The Bible Doesn’t blink

 The Bible doesn’t blink: brilliance unyoked is a blade in the dark. “For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required” (Luke 12:48, KJV). They’ve got the brains, the covenant, the oath—and they’ve pawned it for Caesar’s silver again. 

The world smells it. Hates it. From medieval bloodbaths to Hitler’s ash piles, Jews have been the whipping boy for every tyrant’s tantrum. Today? They’re the bankers tanking your savings, the smut-lords drowning your kids in digital sewage. Pitchforks are rattling—again. 

God’s Bloody Chessboard 

Here’s the ugly twist: God’s rigging this slaughterhouse. “Blindness in part is happened to Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles be come in” (Rom. 11:25, KJV). He’s letting them stack the chips—banks, filth, power—knowing the table flips when the pot’s full. Zechariah 12:9-10 (KJV) lays it bare: “All nations” gang up on Jerusalem, a global beatdown, then—crack—God crashes in. “They shall look upon me whom they have pierced, and they shall mourn.” The Jews don’t get torched; they get torn open and redeemed. 

This ain’t hate—it’s God’s word. He’s not shredding Abraham’s deal (Gen. 12:3, KJV). He’s smashing them to remake them. Weakness, sickness, death—1 Corinthians 11:32’s rod on a cosmic scale: “chastened of the Lord, that we should not be condemned with the world” (1 Cor. 11:32, KJV). The church isn’t their replacement; we’re the opening band. When the lights dim, they’ll face their King, wounds blazing. 

The Mirror We Don’t Want 

Don’t grin, Christian. You’re no prize. Jews ditched Christ for Caesar; we swap Him for TikTok and feel-good pulpits. They run banks and porn dens; we bankroll them with our scrolling and shrugs. God’s flogging them with history’s whip—us with laziness’ slow bleed. “Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith,” Paul barked (2 Cor. 13:5, KJV). They’re blind by God’s hand; we’re blind by our own dumb choice. 

The Jewish Question ain’t just their mess—it’s ours. A people picked, fallen, still clutched in a fist that won’t let go. God’s game is long, and the board’s drenched red.