One of my sons — a smart, clear-thinking 19-year-old — asked me recently:
"So… what do you think about the Jews?"
I knew exactly where it came from. Every young man with a phone is bombarded by the same online sewage — conspiracy grifters, antisemitic tropes, and influencers who monetize confusion. He's wise enough to question what he hears, and I'm grateful we still have the kind of relationship where he wants my perspective.
I told him that as Christians, we start with Scripture. God's covenant with Israel in Genesis and Paul's teaching in Romans 9–11 give us the framework for understanding Jews, Israel, and history. But I also stressed something many get wrong: Biblical Israel is not the same as the modern government of Israel. Collapsing those categories — on the Left or the Right — only fuels conflict. God's promises aren't ours to validate or invalidate.
Our relationship with Christ and the inerrant Word of God comes first. And we cannot allow online personalities to hijack that with sensationalism.
We talked about propaganda, victimhood narratives, anger, scapegoating, and the illusion of control over global forces we barely understand. We discussed real adversaries — China, narco-terrorism on our southern border, the slaughter of Christians in Africa, and the attacks on American servicemembers by Islamist extremists. Anyone obsessing exclusively over Israel while ignoring these broader threats is not being intellectually serious.
Then I asked him the question every young listener should ask: Are your favorite hosts offering solutions — or just drama? Who profits from your anger? Why are you letting strangers shape your worldview?
And most importantly: Are you questioning the question-askers?
He understood. He sees the world is rarely black and white. And he understands that nothing is more competitive today than capturing clicks, downloads, attention, and income. After all, it's how his dad pays the bills, too.
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But his question points to something deeper — something darker — happening to young American men.
They're not simply bored or apathetic. They're wounded.
COVID stole their schools, sports, graduations, first jobs, friendships, and momentum. Then the cultural machine called them toxic, privileged, oppressive — guilty by birth for being male, straight, and traditional. They were lied to by the adults who were supposed to protect them: masks, mandates, lab origins, censorship, election irregularities — all denied until they weren't.
Policies that followed created an economy where inflation, housing costs, and debt make adulthood feel impossible. That didn't create despair. It created rage — white-hot and with nowhere to go.
Psychologists track the symptoms. Pastors see the fallout. Politicians and podcasters exploit the anger. But no one has named the disease.
I will.
Revelation Addiction
Revelation Addiction is the compulsive hunt for the next conspiracy theory that will finally expose the elites. It's the emotional cycle: "You ruined my life and called it virtue — and someday the truth will expose you."
The evidence behind each theory doesn't matter; what matters is whether it keeps the anger alive. When predictions fail, the addict doesn't rethink — he blames "disinformation," resets the countdown clock, and devours the next hit of "secret truths" and "I'm just asking questions."
And now we're seeing the consequences.
Erika Kirk found herself forced to defend her motives, integrity, and faith while grieving the death of her husband — because podcasters decided she was a convenient villain to feed their audiences. Evidence wasn't required. Rage was.
Tim Pool's home was even shot at after he voiced a simple opinion that millions privately share: he believes Candace Owens is a fraud. That's all it took for an online mob — conditioned to see disagreement as betrayal — to escalate outrage into real-world danger.
If you think Revelation Addiction is harmless entertainment, these moments should end that illusion. The burn-it-all-down mentality of the George Floyd era is now making a play for young, disenfranchised white men.
The same rage.
The same absolutism.
The same appetite for enemies.
Just aimed in a different direction.
Meanwhile, while millions of furious young men doom-scroll waiting for the conspiracy that will "wake the normies," the Left quietly shows up to school boards, county commissions, and precinct meetings — cementing political power for decades.
Anger is rocket fuel. Revelation Addiction is a jet engine bolted to the tarmac. It promises meaning, but it produces paralysis.
And it's being exploited.
The greatest threat to young American men isn't the Left — it's the people monetizing their emotions. A booming cottage industry now exists to keep them angry: influencers, fringe commentators, and political entrepreneurs who offer rage without responsibility and drama without solutions.
Revelation Addiction feeds two destructive movements built on the same poisonous root: envy.
On the Left, envy becomes socialism — the belief that success is exploitation and inequality is injustice.
On the Right, envy becomes the grievance economy — voices who turn resentment inward toward Jews, conservatives, allies, and anyone admired or accomplished.
They look like enemies. They preach the same message: "You've been wronged. Someone stole what should've been yours."
Scripture calls it covetousness.
Psychology calls it resentment.
Politics calls it a movement.
Whatever the name, it destroys.
Free markets do the opposite. They redeem ambition through work, building, and ownership. They transform envy into responsibility and resentment into productivity.
Which brings me to what I tell young Americans — what I told my son: You don't need conspiracy theories to feel alive. You don't need to burn institutions down. You don't need to resent people who've succeeded.
You can build. You can own. You can prosper.
This is not just political — it's a posture.
It offers young men what Revelation Addiction never will: A future.
Two visions now compete for them: Envy, grievance, division; or Creation, responsibility, hope.
My choice is clear.
I choose building over burning, unity over suspicion, and prosperity rooted in faith rather than fear. Young men deserve better than grifters, propagandists, and conspiracy merchants.
It's time to help them trade Revelation Addiction for real purpose — to put down their phones, pick up their Bibles, lift their eyes to the Lord, and reclaim their lives before this addiction finishes the work their enemies began.
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