Reality Unfiltered: Faith or Fanaticism?

A reflection on holy rage, keyboard battles, and the power of grace

I found myself in an all-too-familiar corner of the internet—one where religious debates get hijacked by personal egos, and theological discourse turns into verbal warfare. All I did was offer a few clarifications on what the Catholic Church actually teaches. What followed was a barrage of insults from a fellow “Christian” who seemed more determined to condemn than converse.

This person called Catholics idolaters, liars, demon followers, and even cursed us with plagues and generational judgment. (Yes, really.) She quoted Scripture with the subtlety of a sledgehammer and accused me of not having the Holy Spirit—all while berating me in all-caps rage.

Now, let’s be clear:

This blog isn’t really about her.

It’s about the kind of spiritual posture that turns faith into fanaticism.

It’s about how easy it is to sound holy while behaving anything but.

And more importantly, it’s about what God taught me through the fire.

Holy Rage or Hidden Ego?

There’s nothing wrong with passion for the faith. There’s nothing wrong with defending the truth. But when passion becomes poison, and conviction becomes condemnation—then we have a problem.

Some people think they’re defending God’s Word when really, they’re defending their own interpretations, biases, and anger. And the most dangerous part? They do it in the name of righteousness.

For someone so obsessed with idolatry, this woman had clearly made an idol out of her own opinions.

She quoted verses without context. She mocked others while claiming to preach truth. She spoke as though God needed her rage to enforce His Word. And she kept repeating herself like a parrot on autoplay—ignoring every calm clarification and correction I offered.

And yes, I responded always with grace and humility as Jesus Christ has taught us. But not the way she did.

Choosing Grace Over Winning (Original Version)

I didn’t yell. I didn’t curse. I didn’t throw Bible verses like daggers.

I spoke with grace, even when I added a little “holy sass” to remind her I wasn’t intimidated. But I never insulted her. I corrected her lovingly, sometimes firmly, but always rooted in truth—not ego.

Because here’s what I’ve learned:

You can win a fight and still lose the faith.

Sometimes the godliest thing you can do in an argument… is walk away.

Jesus had all the answers. But He didn’t chase after every Pharisee who wanted to bait Him. He knew when to speak and when to be silent. That silence wasn’t weakness—it was power under control.

So I stopped replying. Not because I lost.

But because I refuse to be like the ones who think shouting louder equals being holier.

The Sound of a Parrot Preaching

She kept going even after I bowed out. Still repeating herself, still ignoring the clarifications I’d already made. It honestly felt like arguing with an echo chamber. Or worse—a parrot.

And that’s when it hit me:

Fanaticism doesn’t dialogue. It just echoes.

It doesn’t seek understanding. It only seeks to win.

It’s not hungry for truth. It’s addicted to self-righteousness.

I wasn’t angry at her. I was heartbroken for her. Because no matter how much Scripture she quoted, she missed the core message: God is love. And when your “truth” is louder than your love, you’re not evangelizing. You’re just bullying in Jesus’ name.

What I Learned (and What I Pray)

Believe it or not, I’m actually grateful for the encounter.

It taught me what not to become.

It reminded me that patience and kindness are fruits of the Spirit, not accessories you wear when convenient. And it reminded me that some people are so far inside their own echo chambers that the only thing you can do… is pray.

So yes, I still pray for her.

Not because I think I’m better, but because I hope God softens whatever hurt made her this hardened. That He replaces rage with compassion. That she sees people not as enemies, but as souls God loves.

And to clarify—I wasn’t the one yelling in caps or mocking others. I responded with grace, clarity, and a bit of well-placed wit. But never hatred. I believe in staying rooted in dignity, even when the other person’s decorum has left the building.

To Anyone Reading This

If you ever find yourself caught in a theological debate,

please remember this:

The most powerful testimony is not how loudly you argue—but how deeply you love.

Truth is a sword, yes.

But Christ never used it to wound. Only to free.

So stay gracious. Stay grounded.

Correct with clarity, not cruelty.

And when the conversation becomes just noise—

Walk away with dignity. ✨

Main character energy only.