The lights came up at the Hollywood Bowl, and there she was — Cynthia Erivo, an LGBQT+ actress with a shaved head and long, gleaming nails — stepping into the lead role of Jesus Christ Superstar. Some leaned forward, curious. Others stiffened. Before long, the internet erupted. Words like “blasphemous” and “demonic” flooded social media. Actor Kevin Sorbo posted a fiery denunciation. Comment threads brimmed with accusations of mockery and intentional insult.

We’ve been here before.

Remember last summer’s opening ceremony at the Paris Olympics, which featured a scene some believed was a reimagined Last Supper, complete with drag queens and a naked blue guy on a platter? Outrage erupted then, too — petitions circulated and believers rallied in protest.

Then there was The Book of Daniel, a 2006 TV drama portraying Christ as a wisecracking, shrug-it-off kind of guy. And Jesus Jeans, blending provocative images and twisted scriptural verses to sell their denim. Oh, and rocker Marilyn Manson burning Bibles on stage. For many believers, these acts crossed a line. Yet within weeks, the uproar faded, replaced by the next cultural flashpoint.

Christians should know by now that sinners are going to sin, and the world will always be the world. Yet, these pop-culture dust-ups often set the agenda for Christians, making the church reactive instead of redemptive. Christianity was never meant to be a faith defined by our ability to spot insults and broadcast indignation. Jesus didn’t say, “By your angry responses to offense, all people will know you are my disciples.”

He called us to something higher: love.

The early church lived in a world filled with mockery, misunderstanding, and outright persecution. Some accused Christians of cannibalism because of their strange ritual of eating the body and blood of their Master. Early graffiti from Rome depicted Jesus on the cross with a donkey’s head, while foolish men bowed down in worship. Meanwhile, rumors spread accusing Mary, Jesus’ mother, of having an illicit affair with a Roman soldier, aiming to discredit the very foundation of the faith. 

 Yet, instead of spiraling from offense to offense, Christians moved from opportunity to opportunity — feeding the hungry, rescuing abandoned infants, caring for the sick during plagues. They let the love of Christ, not the sting of ridicule, propel their mission.

Yes, it hurts when the world blasphemes our Lord and spoofs our faith. But if we spend all our energy defending Jesus’ honor, we risk missing the daily call to live like Him. Offense is temporary; obedience is eternal.

You can count on the world serving up even more reasons to be insulted. The real question is: will we keep getting pulled into the outrage cycle — or will we march forward as disciplined soldiers, carrying out our Master’s directive to teach, baptize, and make disciples? God can defend Himself. Our job is to fulfill the Great Commission.

What if the next time offense came knocking, we used it as a cue — not to rant, but to humble ourselves and serve? That would be a movement worth remembering.