Satan Casts Out Satan, and Bethel Church Casts Out Shawn Bolz

It was only a matter of time before Bethel Church, the grand cathedral of charismatic charlatanry, decided to throw one of its own to the wolves. And who better than Shawn Bolz—a man whose entire career has been built on the kind of “prophecy” that conveniently aligns with whatever the audience wants to hear?

Like a magician caught palming cards at his own rigged table, Bolz has now found himself excommunicated not by a council of discerning elders at a legitimate church, but by the very carnival that made him a headlining act.

Bethel, the very organization that has spent decades baptizing gullible souls in a river of mystical nonsense, has suddenly decided that Bolz’s so-called prophetic gift might not be on the up-and-up. Now they’re hyperventilating over the idea that he may have been mining the social media accounts of his audience members for his eerily specific “words of knowledge,” as if the entire modern prophetic movement isn’t just a Pentecostal version of a cold reading scam.

But don’t be fooled—this isn’t about protecting the flock. It’s not like we haven’t been warning for over a decade that Bolz is nothing more than a cold-reading scam artist. Bethel Church didn’t wake up one morning and suddenly develop a conscience. This is about public relations, damage control, about distancing themselves from a scandal that might tarnish their already dubious reputation.

And so, they dragged out their long-winded, hand-wringing statement, full of empty platitudes and spiritual doublespeak, to assure everyone that they tried to hold Bolz accountable.

They just weren’t sure.

Let’s talk about what they were sure about.

For years, Bethel had no problem platforming Bolz. They had no issue with his psychic-style readings, his “divinely inspired” phone numbers, his laughably specific prophecies that just so happened to include pet names and anniversaries.

They nodded along as he rattled off information that any tech-savvy teenager with a search bar could uncover. They booked him. They praised him. They endorsed him. But now that the magic trick has been spoiled, now that the whispers are growing louder, they want to play the role of the reluctant arbiter of truth.

Yet, Bethel’s entire foundation is built on the same flimsy scaffolding as Bolz’s sideshow. They are the mother church of modern-day apostolic buffoonery, the proud sponsors of everything from faith healings that never quite heal to glory clouds that always seem to conveniently disappear when a real camera shows up.