When Beth Moore returned to X (formerly Twitter) earlier this week, it wasn’t with fanfare. It was quiet, cautious—maybe even conflicted. And it’s not hard to see why.
Back in June 2024, Moore tweeted, “This place is so disturbing anymore. The amount of bots and porn in my feed is like nothing I’ve ever seen here before.” A few months later, she deactivated her account entirely. Within two weeks, she’d migrated to Threads.
So what changed? More importantly—why are Christians still here?
For over a decade, Twitter was the digital town square for the Church. It hosted theological debates, launched movements like #ChurchToo and helped Christian authors, pastors and justice advocates find an audience. But in the two years since Elon Musk took over, it’s become unrecognizable. What was once messy but meaningful is now flooded with misinformation, porn bots and AI spam. The platform hasn’t just gotten worse—it’s gotten dangerous.
Cybersecurity firm CHEQ revealed in February that roughly 75% of traffic from X was fake, driven by bots and spam accounts—compared to less than 3% on TikTok, Instagram and Facebook. That kind of digital noise makes genuine interaction nearly impossible. Try sharing a thought about Jesus or justice and you’ll likely get five replies from an AI bot selling crypto and three more pushing conspiracy theories.
Even worse is the rise of explicit content. In May 2024, X updated its policies to allow a wide range of sexual content, including AI-generated material. “Sexual expression, visual or written, can be a legitimate form of artistic expression,” the platform’s new guidelines stated. Translation: the floodgates are wide open. Algorithms now surface explicit material far more frequently, and with weakened moderation, users are often exposed to it without warning.
For Christians trying to guard their hearts and minds, logging onto X can feel like walking through a digital minefield.
And that’s not all. As of November 2024, X’s updated terms of service allow Musk’s in-house AI tool, Grok, to train on any user’s content, including private posts. Users can’t easily opt out, and legal recourse is limited to a rural Texas court system with a track record of siding with Musk-owned entities. Want to monitor hate speech on the platform? That could cost you: the new ToS includes a clause that could fine researchers $15,000 if they exceed a million tweets per day in analysis.
It’s a far cry from the “free speech utopia” Musk promised. Instead, X has become a chaotic feedback loop where spam and toxicity reign, and the rules are stacked in favor of the chaos.
And yet, Christian influencers, pastors and thought leaders are still tweeting like it’s 2014.
Some argue that staying on X is a form of digital witness—that being a voice of light in a dark place still matters. And in fairness, there are still moments of beauty. X can amplify stories of crisis, organize grassroots movements and provide visibility for the marginalized.
But at what cost?
Jemar Tisby, a historian and public theologian, was once active on Twitter. He’s since moved to Substack, explaining, “The constant noise of social media drowns out reflection. I’m choosing spaces where I can speak thoughtfully, not just react.” That trade-off—volume for depth—is one more Christian leaders are quietly making.
Media theorist Charlie Warzel told The New York Times that X is “optimized for confrontation, not conversation.” And the more time you spend there, the more you can feel it—like the platform is discipling users toward outrage rather than empathy, toward spectacle rather than substance.
That’s a spiritual formation issue.
When the tools we use start shaping us more than we shape them, it’s time to ask hard questions. What does it mean to be a faithful presence on a platform that incentivizes anger and exposure? Is staying actually helping, or just enabling a machine that’s designed to drain us?
Beth Moore’s return is a reminder that many believers still feel torn. But her tweet from last summer was more prophetic than she probably realized: “This place is so disturbing anymore.”
She wasn’t wrong.
So maybe it’s time for Christians to reconsider what our digital presence is really for. If it’s for attention, platform or habit, we might need to log off. If it’s for mission, let’s make sure the space isn’t actively undermining the message.
And if it is?
The most countercultural thing you can do might just be walking away—not in outrage, not in dramatic fashion. Just quietly. Intentionally. As an act of digital resistance.
Because staying online doesn’t always mean staying faithful.
Editor’s note: Full disclosure, RELEVANT does maintain a presence on X. Over the last several months, however, we have posted less frequently and are posting more on Instagram and Threads.
