I Want a Jet But I’m Afraid of the Roys Report

A Satirical Reflection on Evangelical Trauma Porn

Let me be clear:
I don’t need a jet.
I don’t even really want a jet.
But something strange happens when The Roys Report tells me I can’t have one.

Suddenly, I feel like I need one.

I didn’t wake up dreaming about private aviation. My ministry schedule isn’t so packed that Delta can’t handle it. I’m not trying to flex my highly lucrative “missionary airways" with gold trim and leather seats. But the second the evangelical watchblogs start foaming at the mouth over anyone who dares board something without a middle seat, a little rebellious spark lights up in my soul.
Maybe I should get one… just because I’m not supposed to.

---

Let’s be honest. It’s not the Spirit of God I’m afraid of — it’s Julie Roys and her self-appointed tribunal of online ecclesiastical auditors. Because God may forgive me for wanting a jet, but The Roys Report will not.

The American Evangelical Hunger for Blood

We’ve entered a golden age of Christian investigative journalism™ — or as I like to call it: trauma porn in the name of “accountability.” The Roys Report has become the TMZ of Evangelical failure — highly clickable, highly shareable, and highly monetizable. It’s the perfect recipe for modern Christian media:

1. Find a scandal.

2. Insert carefully curated buzzwords: “abuse,” “toxic leadership,” “manipulation,” “narcissism.”

3. Add ominous music.

4. Watch the clicks roll in.

We’ve spiritualized our addiction to public shaming and called it “justice.” But it’s not justice — it’s gossip—borderline slander with better SEO.

The Celebrity Pastor Industrial Complex

Now don’t get me wrong — there are some real wolves out there. Men who have fleeced the sheep, manipulated the vulnerable, and built kingdoms on the backs of their followers. They deserve exposure. But that’s not what most of this has become.

Most of what we see now is a cottage industry feeding the algorithm’s insatiable appetite for Christian failure. The formula is simple:

Big Platform = Guaranteed Corruption.

They’ve set up rules that Jesus Himself never uttered:

• Big = bad.

• Growth = greed.

• Fundraising = manipulation.

• Big vision = narcissism.

• Prosperity = prosperity gospel.

• First-class seat = “cult leader energy.”

And of course, the ultimate cardinal sin:
Don’t even think about a jet.

In this system, the safest pastor is the broke, burnt-out, over-apologetic, chronically self-deprecating leader with 37 people meeting in a rented storage unit — who publicly despises every ounce of vision God ever gave them.
You’re allowed to not want a jet — but you must want to publicly despise the idea of a jet.

The Trauma Economy
The real problem isn’t the Roys Report.
The real problem is that we, as the Church, are drawn to what I like to call the art of “therapeutic voyeurism.”.

We’ve confused:

• Discernment with suspicion.

• Accountability with humiliation.

• Justice with public execution.

• Prophetic rebuke with algorithm-friendly gossip.

American evangelicals have developed a taste for the grotesque. We’re no longer shocked by sin; we’re entertained by it. The more salacious the fall, the more we share, comment, and virtue-signal our “grief” on social media. “I’m just so heartbroken over this scandal,” we post, right before we hit play on the fourth podcast episode breaking it down.

We don’t want healing. We want content.

We don’t want restoration. We want retribution.

We don’t want discipline. We want destruction.

Because if we can expose enough bad leaders, maybe we won’t have to face our own prayerlessness, biblical illiteracy, and chronic consumerism that allowed them to rise in the first place.

Accountability or Control?

The Roys Report calls it “accountability journalism.” But what it often functions as is a self-righteous control mechanism. A modern-day Pharisee watchblog that subtly whispers to leaders: Don’t dream too big. Don’t build too much. Don’t prosper too fast. Don’t lead too boldly. Or we’ll come for you.

The spirit of accusation is not the Holy Spirit.

The only safe leader in the Roys economy is the leader who does nothing, risks nothing, builds nothing, raises nothing, grows nothing.

Just sit in your living room with a 20 year old bible study with the same seven people, apologize for being alive, and you’ll be fine.

So No, I Don’t Want a Jet… But Now I Kind of Do

No, I don’t need a jet.
No, I don’t think you need one either.
But the Roys Report has made me want one for one simple reason:

Because they’ve declared it off-limits.
Because they’ve built an entire platform convincing fragile Christians that wanting to build anything big automatically makes you a wolf.

Now if you’ll excuse me — I need to book my commercial flight… again.

Author’s Note (For The Roys Report interns reading this):

This is satire. Relax.