When the news broke that Pope Francis had died, Christianity Today responded in the only way it knows how: with an incense-scented eulogy that doubled as a love letter to ecumenical confusion.
The article, penned by Franco Iacomini, bore the misleadingly tame headline, "Died: Pope Francis, Friend to Evangelicals," but what followed was less obituary and more beatification—not in the Catholic sense, but in the smug, blurry-eyed Protestant admiration of a man who spent more time cozying up to Pentecostal preachers than defending even the basic pretense of biblical clarity.
Let us not be naive. Jorge Mario Bergoglio—known globally as Pope Francis—was not some quirky retiree from Buenos Aires who happened to dabble in interfaith dialogue. He was the head of the Roman Catholic Church. The Vicar of Christ, according to the harlot church he oversaw. The spiritual CEO of a billion-member empire built on centuries of sacramental error, gospel distortion, and theological tyranny.
But to Christianity Today, he was apparently just a relatable guy who liked coffee chats with evangelicals and had a flair for humility.
According to Iacomini, Francis was beloved by everyone from charismatic youth pastors to Presbyterian Bible society heads. The article revels in stories about Francis calling Protestant friends on their birthdays, asking for their opinions, and even appointing one of them—Marcelo Figueroa—to run the Argentine edition of the Vatican newspaper. You know, as one does when the boundaries between orthodoxy and flattery have been completely erased.
We're told Francis was "not the pope" when meeting with these men. He was just Jorge. Just a humble shepherd who smelled like his sheep. Just a man who liked to laugh, who prayed for his friends, who apologized for past offenses and asked for advice on how to handle Protestants. But here’s the thing… Francis wasn’t just Jorge. He was the pope. And for twelve years, he used that office not to proclaim the gospel but to distort it beyond recognition.