Facebook pretty much banned me.
Not because I threatened somebody. Not because I was spreading hate. Not because I was trying to hurt anybody.
I was preaching Jesus.
And I’m not the only one. Someone else in my church—someone who was simply spreading the Gospel—had the same thing happen to them.
Mine started with an Instagram account.
Facebook told me an Instagram account connected to me had violated their rules.
There was just one problem:
IT WASN’T MY INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT.
I had never created it. Never used it. Never even knew it existed.
Somebody had apparently hacked their way into my Facebook world, and somehow I was the one who got punished.
So I tried to explain it.
But you don’t sit down with a human being at Facebook.
You talk to screens.
Forms.
Automated systems.
Digital walls with no face on the other side.
I explained, “That Instagram account isn’t mine.”
I showed them my real account.
I tried to straighten out the mess.
And eventually I was warned that if I kept emailing, my Facebook account could be canceled.
Think about that.
I was trying to tell them:
“SOMEBODY GOT INTO MY ACCOUNT.”
And somehow the man asking for help became the problem.
So today, my Facebook presence is crippled.
I can sometimes use the website, but the app tells me I’m kicked off. Long posts are difficult. Videos are difficult. Sometimes I have to upload a video somewhere else, wait for it, copy the link, and bring it back to Facebook just to share a message.
I used to have around 2,000 followers.
And yes—it bothered me.
Because I wasn’t trying to build some little kingdom for myself.
I WAS TRYING TO REACH PEOPLE FOR JESUS CHRIST.
But then something happened.
Something I never expected.
While one door was being slammed in my face…
God started opening doors Facebook couldn’t control.
Hospital doors.
Nursing-home doors.
Hospice doors.
Bedroom doors where families are whispering because somebody they love is dying.
I started meeting people face-to-face.
Not followers.
People.
Not likes.
Lives.
Not comments underneath a video.
Tears running down somebody’s face.
I remember one woman.
Cancer.
Her abdomen was swollen and hard.
Death wasn’t an abstract theological subject anymore.
Death was standing in the room.
I asked her one of the questions I sometimes ask:
“Is there anything left unsaid or undone?”
She looked at me and said:
“I want to reconnect.”
Reconnect?
I asked, “Do you mean reconnect with your faith?”
“Yes.”
I asked about her church background.
Baptist.
And suddenly I understood exactly what she was asking me for.
I said, “I know the prayer you want to pray.”
And there, in that room, far away from Facebook algorithms, community standards, account restrictions, follower counts and computer screens…
a dying woman called upon Jesus Christ.
She accepted Him as her personal Lord and Savior.
About a week later…
she went home to see Him.
And Facebook wasn’t there.
There wasn’t a livestream.
There weren’t 2,000 followers watching.
There weren’t hundreds of likes.
There was just a dying woman…
a chaplain…
and Jesus.
That’s when something finally hit me.
For years I thought social media was helping me reach the world.
Maybe it was.
But when that door nearly slammed shut, God reminded me:
THE GOSPEL NEVER NEEDED FACEBOOK.
As a pastor, I might see a few people come to Christ over the course of several months.
But today?
I’m sitting beside people who are staring eternity in the face.
I’m meeting people who want to come home.
I’m meeting people who want to reconnect.
I’m meeting people who need somebody to take their hand and remind them:
Jesus is still here.
So yes, Facebook restricted me.
Yes, they made it harder.
Yes, I believe I was punished for something I didn’t do.
But somewhere along the way, what felt like punishment became a strange kind of blessing.
Because Facebook pushed me away from a screen…
and God pushed me toward a bedside.
Facebook can restrict an account.
Facebook can cripple an app.
Facebook can limit a post.
Facebook can bury a video.
Facebook can take away followers.
BUT FACEBOOK CANNOT BLOCK A HOSPITAL DOOR GOD HAS OPENED.
They cannot stop me from taking somebody’s hand.
They cannot stop me from praying with the dying.
They cannot stop a frightened person from whispering the name of Jesus.
They cannot stop grace from entering a nursing-home room.
They cannot stop the Holy Spirit.
And they certainly cannot stop Jesus Christ from saving somebody who calls upon His name.
So if somebody shuts your door…
LOOK FOR GOD’S DOOR.
If somebody takes away your platform…
LOOK FOR YOUR ASSIGNMENT.
Because sometimes God will let you lose the crowd…
so you can find the one.
And somewhere tonight, behind a closed door, there may be somebody with no followers, no platform and very little time left…
waiting for someone to walk into that room and tell them about Jesus.
And there isn’t a thing Facebook can do about it.