If there’s any person Wilson has hurt, it’s Jesus Christ, whose message he has turned into a hateful, smug, error-filled, bigoted primer on how to be irrevocably “predestined,” unless it turns out you’re not, while still taking pride in exhibiting rotten fruit contrary to those listed in Galatians 5.
He’s then managed to hurt thousands of people in Moscow, Idaho, who don’t want anything to do with a Jesus who’s in any way like Doug Wilson, and he’s been a heat-seeking missile of personal and direct harm to those unfortunates who find themselves in his flock. He can be, I’ll grant, a witty, puckish guy — in spite of or because of, depending on your level of overall maturity, his past fondness for what the Ancients called Titty Humor.
But, sadly, there’s not a damned thing funny about any of it — not even the lemming-like, lickspittle loyalty he demands from otherwise sane and/or intelligent men and their women who are champing at the bit to employ pretzel logic and heartbreaking earnestness to prove themselves worthy to their Master. The real Master, the LORD who asks us, lovingly, to not even try to impress Him, doesn’t find it amusing. The Day Doug Wilson and his feckless, beholden toadies are called to give an account of their lives to that LORD will, I guarantee you, not feature a shred of anything less than a heartbreaking, soul-crushing tragedy of profound loss as devoid of humor on that Day as his ministry is of wisdom and compassion on this one.