Tuesday, January 13, 2026

Thou shalt not bear false witness!

Most people remember the Duke Lacrosse team for perpetrating horrible acts against a young woman. They were suspended from the university, publicly shamed, stripped of their reputations, and treated as criminals before a trial ever reached a courtroom. Their lives were effectively ruined.

Yes, most people who were alive at the time remember that version of the story. And most people who are alive today still assume their guilt.

They were innocent.

Framed from the start.

False witness tattooed a stain on them that has lasted far longer in public memory than their vindication ever did.

Why is that? Why do so many people still remember them as guilty? I don’t think the answer is simply that the media under-publicized their innocence. I think it runs deeper than that.

My dad and I recently watched the documentary The Devil Next Door about the accused Nazi war criminal John Demjanjuk—known in the 1980s as “Ivan the Terrible.” His trial drew out dozens of witnesses, many of whom stood and testified falsely with absolute certainty that he was the man who committed unspeakable atrocities.

At one point my dad asked, “How could they just stand up there and lie with such passion and resolve?”

It was the perfect question.

My first-blush response was this: their hunger for justice was so intense that they needed their testimony to be true—and eventually it became true to them. Their desire for justice reshaped memory, emotion, and conviction until sincerity replaced accuracy.

The same thing happened in the Duke Lacrosse case. People’s hunger for justice for the “victim” permanently branded guilt onto the accused, regardless of the facts.

One of the Ten Commandments—often treated as one of the “lesser” ones—is this: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. I believe there are two forces in our culture that make this commandment not minor at all, but one of the most grievous.

The first is social media. False witness now has more power than it has at any point in human history. Everyone has access to everyone. Accusation travels faster than truth, and retraction travels nowhere.

The second is victim identity. We live in a culture that increasingly defines itself by whatever oppression that has been perpetrated upon us. We are victims of systems, structures, ideologies, institutions, traditions—real or perceived. Victimhood now carries moral authority, and moral authority often silences scrutiny and overrides truth.

If you doubt that, ask why questioning an accusation or speaking out against an ideology is now treated as an act of hate.

When you combine social media, victim identity, and humanity’s natural thirst for justice, you create the perfect breeding ground for the devastation of false witness. “Believe the accuser” has become the rallying cry of the age and that is a deadly mantra.

How many of you know people who have been falsely accused by an ex-spouse, an ex-employee, or a former friend?

We should all have our hands raised.

False accusation is so common that it made the Big Ten. It is so common that the justice system in the free world was deliberately designed to assume innocence and demand proof beyond a reasonable doubt from twelve people who must be convinced together.

What’s my point?

Our culture needs to be reminded of this. And we need to remind ourselves. Bearing false witness is devastating.

We have witnessed enough false accusations in our lifetimes to know that not everything we read—especially online—is true. Much of it is not just an innocent mistake, but deliberately false.

Test the spirits. Understand human nature. Don’t rush to judgment. Don’t let your desire for justice override your commitment to truth.

Justice is coming. It's coming for us all!


Thursday, January 1, 2026

2025 in the Rear-view Mirror

The older I get, the more each year feels less like a calendar box and more like another chapter God is writing — one I couldn’t write myself if I tried. And if 2025 taught me anything, it’s that joy and sorrow really can walk side-by-side when the Lord is the One holding both. Now that I’ve got this year in the rear-view mirror, I can see just how much living and how much grace He fit into twelve months.

This was the year we lost Poppy — my father-in-law and one of the steady men in our lives. It’s hard to capture a man like him in words that feel big enough. He was consistent. He was present. He loved quietly and deeply and didn’t make life about himself. He adored his family with a warmth that felt like home. We grieve because he mattered. Yet Scripture reminds us that we “do not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Christ’s resurrection really does change what a graveside feels like. We said goodbye but one day the ache will give way to reunion. Until then, we thank God for the gift of his life and the mark he left on ours.


And while grief was finding its way into our days, joy found a seat at the same table. I had the privilege of watching Jay become a husband. Emma didn’t just marry into our family — she became part of our hearts. “Every good and perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17), and these gifts felt especially tender this year.


At the same time, God was leading me through one of the hardest decisions of my adult life — stepping down from my staff role and eldership at Harvest DeSoto, and ultimately from a church body I had served for eighteen years. You don’t spend nearly two decades praying, preaching, loving, crying, counseling, worshiping, and carrying burdens with a people without your heart becoming woven into the fabric of that place. Leaving wasn’t about losing belief in the mission. It was obedience to the God who cares more for my soul than He does for my usefulness. I needed restoration more than I needed a role — even when I didn’t know how much.


I’d love to say I handled all of this with peace and composure, but the truth is my body finally rang the alarm. The stress caught up with me and landed me in the ER — and because humility needs humor, I wound up back there again after slipping on a pineapple. Some lessons you learn spiritually. Others come with paperwork, an IV, and my wife’s eyes telling me enough is enough. 

This was also the year I hugged my Josie and left her at university. Pride and ache collided in a way only parents really understand. Watching her step into her calling reminded me again that our children belong first to the Lord — and He is faithful.

Louie grew and Sondra is the shortest member of the Hinton clan once again. He is navigating middle school well and is realizing his talents more each day. What a joy he is!


I also walked beside several dear friends as they buried parents, grandparents and loved ones this year. Standing near fresh soil never gets easier, but it does make the resurrection mean more. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4). And I watched the Holy Spirit do just that.


And yet, even with so much in motion, God kept certain things beautifully steady. My wife, faithfully loving and serving our family in a way the world rarely sees. My love for my family deepening, not fading. Friends who stayed close. A job of significance and value! Thank you, MW!!  And above all, the unwavering, stubborn faithfulness of God. “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning” (Lamentations 3:22-23). That verse wasn’t theory this year. It was oxygen.

Of course, God also slipped joy into the cracks. I gained a daughter-in-law. I learned I’d be a grandfather. I harvested the best deer I’ve ever taken. I went to see Dan Huff with my faithful friend Brian Edwards, a night that somehow combined music, gratitude, and worship. And I caught my first triple tails and found out what fish can really taste like.  Thanks, Johnny M!


So when I look back at 2025, I see loss and life, grief and gratitude, letting go and gaining, hospitals and pineapples, tears and laughter, and a God who did not once step away. “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you” (Isaiah 46:4).


I don’t know what 2026 will hold.


But I know the One who will be there when it comes.


And that is enough!!