With the recent events involving Shawn Bolz and the public apology from Bethel Church, a lot of conversation has been stirred in Christian spaces.

I don’t want to add to the noise. But I do want to share a few raw thoughts in the moment.

A large part of my ministry journey has been walking with people who have been deeply hurt by the church.

I even ran a one-on-one coaching program called Revive, designed to help people move from church hurt to healing—restoring their relationship with God and reconciling them back to the Body in a healthy way.

I’ve heard stories that would make you weep. I’ve also watched many of those same broken individuals be restored—going on to experience goodness, stability, and life again.

One of the hardest parts of that season wasn’t the pain people carried—it was the opposition I received from other Christians.

Many were in denial that this kind of harm happens, accusing me of attacking the church or causing division, when in reality I was simply trying to live out the ministry of reconciliation.

The heart has always been about people. And it’s painful when the very Body meant to heal ends up wounding you along the way.

A friend once said to me:

“You’re like a field medic tending wounded sheep—while getting beaten over the head by other sheep.”

Sometimes the hardest opposition doesn’t come from wolves. It comes from frightened sheep protecting an image rather than a person.

So in some strange way, moments like this—when things become public and undeniable—bring a small sense of relief.

Not because of the exposure itself, but because it confirms something many of us have known all along: this stuff is real.

And caring for the wounded was never about attacking the church—it was always about helping her heal.

The ministry of reconciliation isn’t just vertical—between humanity and God. It’s also horizontal—between people.

It seeks to restore the wounded, heal what’s broken, and even call the fallen back to truth and integrity.

And that requires maturity on our part—especially when we’re tempted to pick and choose who we believe is worthy of reconciliation.

My heart is with the victims of this situation—and also those who were ignored and ridiculed when trying to bring it to light.

As real as this pain is, I’m also aware of the other extreme.

There is cover-up culture, and there is exposure culture.

Both are dangerous.

I want to briefly speak to exposure culture.

This doesn’t mean every discernment voice or ministry is unhealthy. It means we need wisdom to tell the difference.

There are countless discernment and exposure ministries online, constantly producing allegations, accusations, and judgments.

This is not the same as healthy accountability.

Accountability requires proximity, responsibility, and a path toward restoration. Exposure culture usually doesn’t.

I’m not minimizing real harm or defending wrongdoing—this pain is real, as I’ve already said.

What I am naming is the danger of forming judgments about people we don’t know, based on narratives that aren't true.

Because I’m in the public eye, I also receive accusations and slander from people I’ve never met—people who have never spoken with me, never walked with me, yet still claim to know my heart and character.

• narratives are formed

• judgments are made

• and people assume the role of God over your life

Those experiences have made me cautious—not defensive—about exposure culture, because I’ve seen how easily it drifts from truth-seeking into suspicion and accusation.

And still, I remain fully aware that abuse and harm are very real.

So my concern right now is this:

When a public figure falls, it can unintentionally validate every exposure video online—and cause people to view anyone even loosely connected as complicit.

And that’s dangerous.

Jesus Himself said the wheat and the tares grow together.

Not everything that looks similar comes from the same root. There will always be some ugliness alongside the goodness.

But the risk is that we begin labeling what is good as ugly.

Jesus Himself was accused of being demon-possessed. So how much more will sincere believers be misunderstood?

We need discernment—but discernment shaped by the Spirit, not by social media.

Don’t let the reality of fallen Christians cause you to overlook the reality of genuine followers of Jesus.

I learned this the hard way while tending to wounded sheep—so this isn’t dismissing pain, it’s hard-won wisdom while trying to help heal the pain.

You can look impressive in public. But who you are in private matters far more.

Reputation is who people think you are. Character is who you actually are when no one is watching.

As I travel around New Zealand sharing about the goodness of God—and walking closely with those I coach in The Goodness Journey—I’m seeing something beautiful.

Pockets of people who don’t want platforms, status, or followings.

They simply want to be:

• lovers of God

• faithful spouses

• present parents

• loyal friends

• people of integrity in their communities

They’re content to shine their light well right where they are.

I’m becoming increasingly convinced that some of the clearest signs of godliness today look like this:

• a present father or mother

• a loving spouse

• an honoring son or daughter

• a faithful friend

Not a platform.

Not a following.

Not an income level.

Just the simplicity of being loved by God—and becoming love to the world around you.

I have a lot more I could say, but wisdom calls me to silence on those things for now.

So however this moment affects you, let it draw you back to what actually matters.

Before platforms.

Before opinions.

Before exposure or defense.

Come back to character.

Whether your life is lived mostly in hiddenness or in openness, the invitation is the same:

"Walk humbly with your good Father." (Micah 6:8)

Hiddenness is not a delay. It’s a gift. It’s where roots go deep and integrity is formed long before anything is seen.

And if your life is more visible—if you’re called into leadership or influence—remain anchored.

Stay honest.

Guard your heart.

You may be misunderstood, falsely accused, or lumped in with others who’ve failed—just as Jesus was.

But you don’t live for the verdict of the crowd.

You live for the pleasure of the Father.

Reputation will rise and fall. Platforms will come and go. People will fail us. But character endures

In the end, the measure of faithfulness isn’t how known you were—it’s how deeply you were formed by God’s love, and how faithfully that love flowed through you to others.

And that happens through abiding.

We live for an audience of One.

And when that becomes enough, everything else finds its proper place.