The sound of five women shouting at once shouldn’t have been possible to hear clearly. But somehow every word cut through the chaos with surgical precision. 12 million viewers watching from homes across America saw Jonathan Roomie stand up from his chair on the view stage, look directly into the camera with the kind of calm that only comes from absolute conviction and speak four words that would be replayed millions of times over the coming weeks. I’m not ashamed of the gospel.
Then he unclipped his microphone and walked off the set while Whoopi Goldberg’s voice rose to a pitch rarely heard on morning television while Joy Behar pointed at him with shaking hands. While Sunonny Host’s face flushed red with barely controlled fury.
But nobody watching that morning understood how a simple interview about a faith-based television show had detonated into the most uncomfortable confrontation in The View’s 27-year history. To understand why Jonathan chose to walk away from five of the most powerful women in media, you have to rewind to the moment when everything still seemed manageable. The invitation had arrived four weeks earlier, delivered with the kind of enthusiasm that made Jonathan’s publicist nearly drop her phone in excitement.
The view wants you, she’d said, her voice breathless. This is massive. Jonathan, bigger than Kimmel. This is the show that sets the cultural conversation. Think of the exposure. But Jonathan had learned something from his experience on Jimmy Kimmel’s stage. 6 months earlier. He’d learned that mainstream media invitations to Christians rarely came without strings attached.
That friendly questions about faith-based content almost always pivoted to theological ambush. That the price of access to large platforms usually included compromising the very message you came to share. Still, he prayed about it, sought counsel from trusted voices, and felt that familiar pull to step into uncomfortable spaces because sometimes that’s exactly where God called his people to go.
The morning of the taping, Jonathan knelt on the worn carpet of his Los Angeles apartment and asked God for the same things he’d prayed for before Kimmel. wisdom, courage, grace to speak truth with love, the ability to see the hosts not as enemies but as people blinded by the same darkness that had once held him.
He thought about his grandmother’s carved crucifix on the wall, about the boxes of letters from viewers whose lives had been changed by the chosen, about Marcus and Sarah and all the others who’d written to thank him for standing firm on truth even when it cost him everything. The car service arrived at 7:00 in the morning and Jonathan settled into the back seat with his Bible open to First Peter. The passage about suffering for righteousness seemed particularly relevant.
The words about being ready to give an answer for the hope within you, feeling less like ancient text and more like immediate instruction. Los Angeles traffic crawled past the windows in its usual dysfunction. Everyone rushing toward whatever dreams or delusions kept them striving in a city built on image.
The view’s studio complex was different from Kimmel’s sleek Hollywood cool. This building carried the weight of decades of countless cultural battles fought under these lights of careers made and destroyed in the span of a single episode. Security waved Jonathan through with practiced efficiency, and he found himself walking down hallways lined with photos of every major figure who’d sat in the hot seat over the years, presidents and activists, celebrities and criminals.
Everyone who was anyone had eventually faced the panel’s questions. The green room was quieter than Kimmels had been. Just one other guest waiting for a later segment. a chef promoting a new cookbook, who nodded politely but seemed preoccupied with reviewing his notes, Jonathan settled into a corner chair and opened his Bible again, finding comfort in familiar passages, even as his stomach tightened with growing certainty that this interview would be harder than the last one, a production assistant appeared with a clipboard and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Mr.
Roomie, welcome to the view. The hosts are really looking forward to this conversation. She handed him a sheet of talking points, just some suggestions about what to mention, how to describe your show, that kind of thing. Jonathan scanned the list and recognized the same pattern he’d seen before.
Every suggestion was designed to make the chosen sound inspirational rather than theological, uplifting rather than convicting, nice rather than true. He folded the paper and handed it back with a gentle smile. I appreciate the thought, but I’ll just speak from the heart about what the show actually is. The assistant’s smile flickered.
The hosts might ask some challenging questions. They’re very passionate about certain issues, especially women’s rights and inclusivity. Just keep in mind that our audience values diversity of thought and respect for all perspectives. Jonathan heard what she wasn’t saying. Don’t be too Christian. Don’t make exclusive truth claims.
Don’t say anything that might offend our progressive viewership. The warning was delivered with professional courtesy, but it was a warning nonetheless. Before he could respond. Another assistant appeared at the door. Mr. Roomie, we’re ready for you. The hosts are finishing their opening segment. You’ll be up after the break.
Jonathan stood slowly, leaving his Bible on the chair, but carrying its truths like armor. As he followed the assistant through corridors that smelled like hairspray and coffee, he could hear the muffled sound of the show in progress. The distinctive rhythm of five women talking over each other in practiced chaos that somehow still sounded coherent.
This was their territory, their kingdom, where they set the rules and controlled the narrative. The stage manager positioned Jonathan just behind the curtain, close enough to see the set, but hidden from the audience’s view. From this angle, he could watch the hosts in their natural habitat. Their chemistry obvious despite political differences.
Their ability to pivot from humor to gravitas impressive, even when he disagreed with their conclusions. Whoopi sat center stage with the authority of someone who’d earned her position through decades of work. Joy occupied the chair to her left, sharp tonged and quick with cutting observations. Sunny brought legal precision to every argument. Sarah provided occasional moderate push back.
Alyssa represented the conservative perspective, though often with enough caveats to make her palatable to the largely liberal audience. Currently, they were discussing some political controversy. Their voices overlapping in that way that made the view simultaneously chaotic and compelling.
Jonathan watched the audience, saw how they leaned forward with hungry attention, how they applauded at preapproved moments, how they’d been trained to react with outrage or approval on Q. This was tribal television, affirming beliefs and mocking opponents, making everyone feel smart and enlightened and morally superior to those backward fools who still believed outdated things.
The segment ended and Whoopi turned toward the camera with her trademark warmth. “When we come back,” she announced, her voice carrying practiced enthusiasm. “We’re talking to Jonathan Roomie, star of The Chosen. If you haven’t seen it, you need to. This show is breaking every record for streaming content. We’ll be right back.
” The way she said it sounded genuinely positive, almost excited. And for a moment, Jonathan felt his guard lower slightly. Maybe this would be different. Maybe after Kimmel. The industry had learned something about respecting guests beliefs, even when disagreeing with them.
The thought lasted approximately 30 seconds until he noticed Joy leaning over to whisper something to Sunny. both of them glancing toward where he stood behind the curtain. Their expressions carrying that particular look of people preparing for battle. The commercial breaks stretched for 3 minutes that felt like 30. Makeup artists rushed the stage for final touch-ups.
Camera operators made minute adjustments to their positions. The band ran through a quick rehearsal of the bumper music. Everything moved with the choreographed precision of a machine that had executed this dance thousands of times. Then the stage manager appeared beside Jonathan, holding up his hand with fingers extended.
5 seconds 4 3 2 The red light blinked on and the band launched into their theme music. Upbeat and welcoming, designed to make everything that followed feel friendly, even when it wasn’t. Whoopi’s voice boomed through the studio with warmth that seemed genuine until you remembered this was performance.
Carefully calibrated to make guests feel comfortable before the real questions began. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Jonathan Roomie, star of the chosen. The curtain parted and Jonathan stepped into lights that felt like exposure itself. Into applause that sounded warm but would curdle within minutes.
Into a conversation that would begin with praise for his work and end with five women condemning him simultaneously while 12 million people watched his faith get put on trial. He walked to the panel with a smile that felt increasingly fragile, shook hands with each host, and settled into the guest chair that every previous occupant had warned him was more electric chair than furniture.
Whoopi opened with her usual grace. Praising the chosen success and asking about the experience of portraying Jesus in language that sounded respectful. Jonathan, this show has become a phenomenon. 400 million people have watched it. What’s it like bringing Jesus to life for so many people? The question seemed safe enough designed to let him promote the show and share behindthe-scenes stories.
Jonathan kept his answer focused on the responsibility of honoring who Jesus was, not just as historical figure, but as God incarnate. He saw Joyy’s expression shift almost imperceptibly when he said those words. saw Sunny lean forward slightly, recognized the tells that meant the friendly phase was ending and the real interview was about to begin.
Sarah jumped in next, her tone still warm, but with a new edge underneath. The show depicts Jesus as very loving and accepting, but some of your viewers have noticed you don’t shy away from showing him making hard statements, too. How do you balance that? There it was. the first gentle probe designed to establish whether Jonathan would soften his theology for mainstream acceptance.
He met her eyes directly and spoke with the calm that came from having already counted the cost of honesty. Jesus was both perfectly loving and perfectly truthful. He said those aren’t contradictory. He loved people enough to tell them the truth about their sin and offer them salvation from it. You can’t have real love without real truth.
The temperature in the studio dropped several degrees and Joy pounced immediately. Her voice carrying an edge that hadn’t been there seconds before. So when you talk about truth and sin, Joy said, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. Are you including women who’ve had abortions? Because last time I checked, Jesus hung out with prostitutes and tax collectors, not the religious people who judged them. The trap was obvious.
Engineered with the precision of someone who’d spent decades weaponizing compassion. Frame biblical morality as judgment. Make orthodoxy sound like cruelty. Force Jonathan to either abandon scripture or sound like a monster. The audience shifted in their seats. Sensing blood in the water, Sarah jumped in next. Her tone still warm, but with a new edge underneath.
The show depicts Jesus as very loving and accepting. But some of your viewers have noticed you don’t shy away from showing him making hard statements, too. How do you balance that? Jonathan scanned the list and recognized the same pattern he’d seen before. Every suggestion was designed to make the chosen sound inspirational rather than theological, uplifting rather than convicting, nice rather than true.
He folded the paper and handed it back with a gentle smile. I appreciate the thought, but I’ll just speak from the heart about what the show actually is. Sunny jumped in immediately, her legal training evident in the way she structured her attack. But Jonathan, we’re not talking about ancient adultery.
We’re talking about modern women’s healthc care, women’s right to control their own bodies. Are you really suggesting that abortion is sin when it’s a constitutionally protected right? The studio erupted. Half the audience gasped in outrage. The other half applauded nervously. Unsure if supporting him was allowed in this space, Whoopi raised her hands, trying to restore order, but her face had gone tight with barely controlled anger. Did you just compare abortion to slavery? Her voice carried disbelief mixed with fury.
Did you really just sit on this stage and compare women making choices about their own bodies to owning human beings? Jonathan met her eyes without flinching. I compared two things that were legally protected but morally wrong. The comparison stands because both involve powerful people deciding whether weaker humans count as persons.
In slavery, it was based on race. In abortion, it’s based on development. Either human life has inherent value or it doesn’t. Joyy’s laugh sharp and bitter. Oh, this is rich. A man telling women what they can do with their bodies. How very Christian of you. Sara tried to intervene. Her voice softer but still carrying an edge.
Jonathan. Surely you can see how that sounds to women who’ve had to make impossible choices, who faced medical complications or rape or circumstances you can’t possibly understand as a man. The personal angle was designed to disqualify him based on gender, to suggest that male voices had no standing in conversations about female bodies.
Jonathan recognized the tactic, but refused to be silenced by it. Jonathan had known this question would come, had prayed about how to answer it with both conviction and compassion. Constitutional protection doesn’t determine morality. Slavery was once constitutionally protected. That didn’t make it right.
The question isn’t what’s legal. The question is what’s true. Sunny’s face flushed red, her voice rising. So, a 10-year-old rape victim should be forced to carry her rapist’s baby. That’s your Christian compassion. The question was designed to make him sound monstrous, to force him into a corner where any answer would be weaponized.
The audience leaned forward, some with expressions of genuine curiosity, others with faces already set in judgment. Jonathan felt the weight of every camera zoomed tight on his face, capturing every micro expression for later dissection. You’re right that I can’t personally experience pregnancy, he said quietly. But truth isn’t determined by personal experience.
Either the unborn are human lives deserving protection or they’re not. And if they are, then their humanity matters regardless of the circumstances of their conception or the difficulties of the situation. Whoopi stood up abruptly, an unusual move that signaled the conversation had moved beyond typical interview territory into something raw and more dangerous.
Her voice shook with emotion that seemed both genuine and performative. I’ve had an abortion,” she said, her words landing like bombs in the silence. “Are you calling me a murderer? Are you saying I killed my baby?” The audience erupted again, louder this time, emboldened by their hosts vulnerability. Several women stood, pointing at Jonathan with shaking hands.
Others shouted their own stories, their own abortions, their own defiance of anyone who would judge their choices. The studio had transformed from entertainment venue into battlefield. And Jonathan sat at the center of the crossfire. That’s a horrific situation that breaks my heart completely, he said, his voice carrying genuine anguish.
But we don’t solve one evil with another evil. The baby conceived in rape is still an innocent human life. The trauma doesn’t disappear with abortion. It just adds another victim to the tragedy. Joyy’s voice cut through the chaos. Dripping with sarcasm and rage. This is exactly what’s wrong with religion. Men using ancient texts to control women’s bodies.
Hiding cruelty behind scripture. And you expect us to sit here and take it? Jonathan’s hands gripped the armrests of his chair. The only visible sign of the restraint he was exercising. His voice remained steady, but something had shifted in his posture. A subtle straightening that suggested he was approaching a decision point.
“If caring about innocent life is violence, then I don’t know what words mean anymore,” he said quietly. And if standing on scripture makes me hateful, then I’ll be hateful. But I won’t pretend that killing unborn children is healthcare just because calling it that makes people feel better. Alyssa, who’d been silent until now, spoke up with visible discomfort.
I think what Jonathan’s trying to say is that you can love people while disagreeing with their choices. That’s not the same as hatred. The other hosts turned on her immediately. their unity fracturing as they rounded on the one voice attempting nuance. Sarah’s face showed frustration. Alyssa, this isn’t about disagreement.
This is about men using religion to strip women of fundamental rights. Sunny nodded vigorously. Exactly. And the fact that Jonathan sits here talking about scripture while women are dying from lack of access to healthcare. That’s not love. That’s violence dressed up in religious language. He looked at Whoopi with an expression that showed real compassion mixed with unwavering conviction.
I’m saying that abortion ends a human life. I’m not judging you personally because I don’t know your heart or your circumstances, but I can’t change what’s true just because it’s painful to hear. Joyy’s voice cut through the chaos, dripping with sarcasm and rage. This is exactly what’s wrong with religion. Men using ancient texts to control women’s bodies, hiding cruelty behind scripture, and you expect us to sit here and take it?” Alyssa, who’d been silent until now, spoke up with visible discomfort. I think what Jonathan’s trying to say is that you can love people while
disagreeing with their choices. That’s not the same as hatred. How dare you? Whoopi said, each word vibrating with fury. How dare you come on this show and call women murderers? How dare you judge choices you’ll never have to make? Joyy’s voice over overlapped hers. Both women shouting simultaneously. This is disgusting. You’re disgusting.
Using Jesus to shame women, to control women, to tell us we’re sinners for making decisions about our own bodies. Jonathan sat very still as the storm of their anger broke over him. Five women now, all speaking at once, their voices blending into a chorus of condemnation. The audience was standing too, some applauding the hosts, others watching in horror, a few making their way toward the exits because this had crossed a line from uncomfortable into unbearable.
Sunny leaned forward, her voice cutting through the chaos with legal precision. You know what this is? This is why women are terrified of Christian nationalism. This is why we fight so hard for separation of church and state. Because men like you want to force your religious beliefs on everyone else’s bodies. Alyssa tried one more time to inject reason.
Her voice barely audible over the den. Can we just take a breath and recognize that people of good faith can disagree about when life begins. No. Joy snapped, turning on her colleague with surprising venom. We can’t because this isn’t about good faith. This is about patriarchy. This is about control and I’m done pretending it’s anything else. Jonathan looked at each host in turn.
Seeing in their faces something beyond political disagreement or theological difference, he saw rage. Yes, but underneath it something deeper. Fear, guilt, the defensive fury of people who’d built entire world views on foundations they suspected might be sand. His presence, his unwillingness to affirm their choices, threatened the very structures that let them sleep at night.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but somehow carried through the chaos. I came here to talk about a show that’s helping millions of people encounter Jesus. Instead, you’ve spent the last 15 minutes telling me I’m hateful for believing what Christians have believed for 2,000 years. Whoopi’s response was immediate and cutting. Maybe Christians have been wrong for 2,000 years. Ever think of that? The audience roared their approval.
The sound washing over Jonathan like a wave of hostility made audible. Jonathan sat very still as the storm of their anger broke over him. Five women now all speaking at once, their voices blending into a chorus of condemnation. The audience was standing too. Some applauding the hosts, others watching in horror, a few making their way toward the exits because this had crossed a line from uncomfortable into unbearable.
I call it offering them truth. Jonathan replied, his voice growing stronger, Jesus said, the truth will set you free. Not comfortable lies, not affirmation of every desire. truth, even when it costs everything. Whoopiy’s response was immediate and cutting. Maybe Christians have been wrong for 2,000 years.
Ever think of that? Jonathan looked at Whoopi with an expression that carried more grief than anger, more disappointment than defensiveness. Maybe, he said quietly, his voice somehow cutting through the noise. Or maybe the culture that celebrated 50 million abortions and calls it progress is the one that’s wrong.
Before Jonathan could respond, Whoopi cut him off with a gesture so sharp it made the camera operators flinch. No, I want to know something else. She leaned forward. Her eyes narrowed. You talk about Jesusloving sinners, but what about LGBTQ people? What about my friends who are gay? What about the transgender kids who just want to exist without being told they’re abominations? The pivot was calculated, designed to trap him on multiple fronts simultaneously.
Jonathan had walked into this studio knowing exactly what questions would come, had prayed through his responses, had counted the cost of honesty. But sitting there with five women glaring at him, with an audience banging for his condemnation, with 12 million people watching him either stand firm or compromise. The weight felt almost unbearable.
Jesus loves everyone. Jonathan said his voice steady despite the pressure. Every person is made in God’s image and deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. But love doesn’t mean affirming every choice. It means telling the truth even when it’s hard to hear. Sarah jumped in, her voice trembling with emotion that seemed both genuine and performative.
I have friends who’ve had abortions. Beautiful, kind, loving women who made impossible decisions in impossible circumstances. Are you calling them murderers? Jonathan shook his head slowly. I’m not saying gay people are fundamentally broken. I’m saying we’re all fundamentally broken. Every single one of us. That’s not hateful. That’s the gospel. We’re all sinners in need of a savior.
Joy stood up fully now. Her voice rising to match Whoopi’s earlier pitch. Stop hiding behind that word sin. You use it to bash people over the head with your religion. to make them feel less than, to justify your bigotry.” The accusation landed with force, and Jonathan felt something shift inside him.
Not anger exactly, but a kind of holy frustration with the deliberate misrepresentation of everything he believed. His voice grew firmer, more direct. I use that word because it’s biblical. Because sin is the diagnosis that makes salvation necessary. If we’re not sinners, then Jesus died for nothing. But we are sinners, all of us.
And pretending we’re not doesn’t help anyone. It just leaves people trapped in brokenness while telling them they’re fine. Sunny’s laugh was sharp and humorless. There it is. The classic Christian dodge. Love the sinner. Hate the sin. As if you can separate someone’s identity from who they are. as if telling gay people they’re fundamentally broken isn’t violence.
The other four hosts turned on her with coordinated fury. Their voices overlapping in accusation. Sara’s face flushed with emotion. Alyssa, stop defending this. Transformation is just conversion therapy with better marketing. It’s still telling people they need to change who they fundamentally are. Whoopi nodded vigorously. Exactly. And we know where that leads.
Suicide rates among LGBTQ youth whose families reject them. Kids thrown out on the streets. Lives destroyed by this exact theology that Jonathan’s sitting here defending. Alyssa tried again to inject nuance. Her voice carrying a desperate quality. I think Jonathan’s point is that Christianity offers transformation, not just acceptance.
That’s not the same as hatred. Joyy’s response was immediate and cutting. Freedom. You call telling people their love is sinful freedom. You call forcing them into a closet or a conversion camp. Freedom. Jonathan’s hands tightened on the armrests. Knuckles going white with the effort of maintaining composure.
Every suicide is a tragedy, he said. His voice carrying real anguish. Every person who feels unloved or unwanted breaks my heart completely. But the answer isn’t to lie to people about what God’s word says. The answer is to show them that Jesus loves them enough to offer them freedom from anything that enslaves them.
Sunny leaned forward, her voice dropping to something more dangerous than shouting. Let me ask you directly, Jonathan. Do you believe being gay is a sin? Yes or no? The question was designed to destroy, to force him into a sound bite that would define him forever, regardless of nuance or context. The studio went silent, every person holding their breath, waiting for his answer.
Jonathan looked at each host, then at the audience, then directly into the camera. The Bible is clear that sexual expression belongs within marriage between a man and a woman. Any sexual activity outside that design, whether heterosexual or homosexual, is sin according to scripture. But I’m not standing on moral high ground. I struggle with sexual temptation.
I struggle with pride and anger and selfishness. We’re all standing at the foot of the cross as equals, all needing the same grace. The explosion was instantaneous and overwhelming. All five hosts erupted simultaneously, their voices blending into a cacophony of outrage that made the previous confrontation seem tame by comparison. Whoopi’s face had gone rigid with fury.
Joy was pointing at him with both hands, her voice reaching a pitch that made the microphones crackle. Sunny stood now, too. Three of the five hosts on their feet surrounding him like prosecutors closing in on a defendant. This is exactly what I’m talking about, Whoopi shouted, her voice shaking with rage. This is bigotry, plain and simple.
Hiding behind a Bible doesn’t make it any less hateful. Joyy’s voice over overlapped hers. You’re dangerous. You’re spreading a message that kills people, and you expect us to sit here and treat you with respect. Sarah’s face showed something between anger and grief. My brother is gay. He’s married to a wonderful man. They have a beautiful life together.
And you’re sitting here telling me his love is sinful. His marriage is an abomination. Jonathan turned toward her. And his expression showed real compassion mixed with unwavering conviction. I’m telling you what scripture says, not to hurt you or your brother, but because truth matters more than my comfort or yours. Sunny’s voice cut through like a blade. Truth. Your truth is hatred.
Your truth is discrimination. Your truth is the reason kids kill themselves. And you have the audacity to call it love. The audience was in full revolt now. Most of them standing, some shouting at Jonathan directly, others recording on phones. capturing this moment for the viral explosion that was already building momentum outside the studio.
A woman near the front screamed that her daughter had attempted suicide after being rejected by her church. A man in the back shouted that people like Jonathan were the reason America was divided. Alyssa sat frozen, clearly recognizing that any attempt to defend nuance would be feudal. The other four hosts had become a unified front.
Their differences forgotten in the face of what they perceived as a common enemy. Jonathan sat at the center of their fury. Calm but not passive, firm but not cruel, carrying the weight of 2,000 years of Christian teaching on his shoulders while five powerful women tried to crush him with the force of cultural certainty.
Whoopi leaned down, her face inches from his, her voice low and dangerous. You know what I think? I think you use Jesus as a weapon. I think you hide behind scripture to avoid admitting you’re just another bigot who can’t handle people being different from you. Joy nodded vigorously, her voice rising again. And the worst part, you’re influencing millions of people with the chosen, teaching them this hateful theology, making them think it’s okay to judge and condemn.
Jonathan looked at both of them, then swept his gaze across all five hosts. Seeing in their faces the same certainty he’d seen in Kimmel, the same absolute conviction that they were right, and he was not just wrong, but evil. His voice when he spoke was quiet but carried through the chaos with unexpected force. I’m not influencing people with my theology.
I’m showing them Jesus, the real Jesus of scripture, not the domesticated version that affirms everything and challenges nothing. And if that makes me hateful in your eyes, then I’ll be hateful. But I won’t apologize for believing what the church has taught for two millennia. Sunny’s face twisted with something approaching disgust.
The church also taught that slavery was acceptable, that women shouldn’t vote, that interracial marriage was sinful. Why should we trust anything the church says? Because Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Jonathan replied, “Cultural applications change. Truth doesn’t. And just because the church has been wrong about some things doesn’t mean it’s wrong about everything.
The confrontation had reached a fever pitch. All five hosts now speaking over each other, their voices blending into a wall of condemnation that felt almost physical in its force. Jonathan reached down slowly and his fingers found the small clip holding his microphone to his lapel.
The gesture was subtle, but in the charged atmosphere, it registered like a gunshot. Whoopi noticed first, her eyes widening slightly as she realized what was happening. The other hosts kept talking, their voices still overlapping in accusation. But Jonathan’s hand on that microphone pack made time seem to slow. Wait, Whoopi said, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Are you seriously about to walk off our show? The question hung in the air and suddenly all five hosts went silent, watching him with expressions that ranged from disbelief to vindication. The audience held its collective breath, sensing they were witnessing something unprecedented. Jonathan looked at each host in turn, his expression carrying more sadness than anger. “I came here to talk about The Chosen,” he said quietly.
to share about a show that’s helping people encounter Jesus. Instead, you’ve spent the last 30 minutes calling me hateful, dangerous, and bigoted for believing what scripture teaches. So, yes, I think it’s time for me to go. Real freedom isn’t doing whatever we want. Jonathan replied, “Real freedom is being delivered from the things that enslave us. Sin enslaves.
Jesus liberates, but he doesn’t liberate us to keep sinning. He liberates us to live the way we were designed to live. Sarah’s face showed something between sympathy and frustration. Jonathan, we’re just asking you to defend your beliefs. If you can’t handle being challenged, maybe those beliefs aren’t as strong as you think.
The question hung in the air and suddenly all five hosts went silent, watching him with expressions that ranged from disbelief to vindication. The audience held its collective breath, sensing they were witnessing something unprecedented. Jonathan looked at each host in turn, his expression carrying more sadness than anger. “I came here to talk about The Chosen,” he said quietly.
to share about a show that’s helping people encounter Jesus. Instead, you’ve spent the last 30 minutes calling me hateful, dangerous, and bigoted for believing what scripture teaches. So, yes, I think it’s time for me to go.” The question hung in the air, and suddenly all five hosts went silent, watching him with expressions that ranged from disbelief to vindication.
The audience held its collective breath, sensing they were witnessing something unprecedented. Jonathan looked at each host in turn, his expression carrying more sadness than anger. I came here to talk about The Chosen. He said quietly, “To share about a show that’s helping people encounter Jesus.
Instead, you’ve spent the last 30 minutes calling me hateful, dangerous, and bigoted for believing what scripture teaches. So, yes, I think it’s time for me to go. Whoopi’s face flushed with fresh anger. Don’t you dare lecture us about God’s word. I’ve read the Bible, too, and the Jesus I read about wouldn’t sit here condemning women and LGBTQ people.
He’d show actual compassion. Jonathan looked at her with an expression that showed real pain. Genuine sorrow for the distance between the Jesus she’d constructed and the Jesus of scripture. The Jesus you read about told people to go and sin no more. He called people to repentance. He said the road is narrow and few find it. That’s not the Jesus who affirms everyone’s choices.
That’s the Jesus who challenges everyone to surrender their lives to him. Joy stood up fully now, her voice vibrating with fury. This is unbelievable. You’re actually standing here telling Whoopi Goldberg that she doesn’t know Jesus. The arrogance is astounding. Before Jonathan could respond, “A woman in the audience stood up, her voice breaking with emotion.
” “I had an abortion when I was 19,” she said, tears streaming down her face. It saved my life, my career, my future, and you’re telling me I’m a murderer.” Jonathan turned toward her and his expression softened with genuine compassion that seemed to surprise even the hosts. I’m telling you that abortion ends a human life.
I don’t know your heart or your circumstances. I don’t know the pressure you faced or the impossibility of your situation, but I can’t lie to you about what happened just to make you feel better. Jesus offers forgiveness for every sin, including mine. That’s the gospel, not condemnation without hope, but truth with grace.
The woman sat down slowly, her face twisted with confusion and pain. The hosts watched the exchange with visible frustration. Recognizing that Jonathan’s compassion was undermining their narrative of him as heartless bigot, Sunny recovered first, her voice tight. “That’s emotional manipulation,” she said. Offering forgiveness implies there’s something to forgive.
“You’re still calling her a murderer,” just with a softer tone. Whoopi’s face flushed with fresh anger. “Don’t you dare lecture us about God’s word. I’ve read the Bible, too. And the Jesus I read about wouldn’t sit here condemning women and LGBTQ people. He’d show actual compassion. Sarah’s voice carried genuine curiosity mixed with frustration.
But Jonathan, how can you say Jesus offers freedom when your theology traps people when it tells women they can’t control their bodies? When it tells LGBTQ people they can’t love who they love. Jonathan shook his head, his voice carrying a firmness that hadn’t been there before. I’m calling all of us sinners.
Every single person in this studio, myself included, that’s not manipulation. That’s Christianity. We’re all broken. We all need Jesus. And he offers salvation freely to anyone who comes to him. Whoopi’s laugh was harsh and bitter. Designed. There’s that word again. as if you know better than people themselves how they should live their lives.
Joyy’s voice rose immediately, sharp with triumph. Oh, this is perfect. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. Classic Christian victimhood. The confrontation had been building for nearly 40 minutes. The longest single guest segment in The View’s recent history, and everyone could feel it approaching some kind of breaking point.
Alyssa, who’d been silent for several minutes, spoke up with visible discomfort. Can I just say that I respect Jonathan’s conviction, even though I don’t agree with everything he’s saying, I think we can disagree without demonizing each other. The other four hosts turned on her with coordinated fury.
Their temporary alliance against Jonathan, instantly redirecting toward their conservative colleague. Joyy’s voice was sharp. Alyssa, this isn’t about disagreement. This is about harmful beliefs that get people killed. Stop defending him. Jonathan watched the hosts fracture. Saw them turn on each other. Recognized the dynamic that had been present all along, but was now visible.
They could only maintain unity when they had a common enemy. The moment that enemy was removed, they devoured each other instead. He straightened his jacket with a small gesture that somehow carried enormous weight. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but every person in that studio heard him clearly. “I’m not ashamed of the gospel,” he said.
The words landing with the force of a declaration that had cost him everything to make. It’s the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, and I won’t apologize for believing it, even when believing it makes me unpopular.” Then he turned and walked toward the exit, not rushing, but not hesitating. Each step deliberate and measured.
The cameras followed him instinctively, capturing every angle of what would become one of the most viral moments in the view’s 27-year history. Whoopi’s voice cut through the stunned silence. So that’s it. You’re really walking off. Jonathan paused at the edge of the stage, his hand on the door frame and turned back one final time.
The lighting caught his face in perfect profile and every camera captured the moment with cinematic clarity. You invited me here to attack my faith, he said. I came anyway because I hoped we could have an honest conversation. But honest conversation requires both sides to listen. You’re not listening. You’re prosecuting. So yes, I’m leaving.
Just like Jesus left when people weren’t willing to hear truth. Joyy’s voice rose in fury. Don’t you dare compare yourself to Jesus. The arrogance is breathtaking. Jonathan’s smile was sad, carrying more grief than triumph. I’m not comparing myself to Jesus. I’m following his example. He walked away from mockers, too.
Then he was gone, disappearing through the studio doors into the hallway beyond, leaving five hosts staring after him in various states of rage and disbelief. The audience sat frozen, half of them wanting to applaud, the other half too shocked to react at all. For five full seconds, no one moved or spoke.
Then Whoopi found her voice attempting to regain control of her show. “Well,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “I think that tells you everything you need to know about that kind of Christianity.” When confronted with real questions, they run. But even as she spoke, something was happening that would undermine every word. The clip had already been screen recorded by dozens of audience members.
was already being uploaded to social media, was already beginning its journey toward viral ubiquity. Within minutes, it would be viewed 10 million times. Within hours, 50 million. Within days, it would spark a national conversation about faith, freedom, and whether truth claims could coexist with tolerance.
The studio descended into chaos as producers rushed the stage. As the hosts argued among themselves about how to proceed, as the audience buzzed with conversation that ranged from supportive to outraged, outside the studio, Jonathan sat in his waiting car while his phone vibrated with such persistent urgency that the driver glanced in the rearview mirror with concern.
The notifications were coming so fast they created a continuous hum. Messages and calls and alerts stacking on top of each other until the device felt hot in his hand. He turned it face down on the seat and stared out the window at Los Angeles traffic. Feeling a strange calm settle over him despite knowing he’d just walked off one of the most powerful platforms in daytime television.
Back inside the studio, the show had descended into barely controlled chaos. The commercial break that should have lasted 3 minutes stretched to seven as producers scrambled to figure out how to proceed. Whoopi sat rigid in her chair, her hands gripping the armrests with enough force to make her knuckles white.
Joy paced behind the panel, muttering to herself about the audacity of Christian persecution narratives. Sunny had her phone out, already drafting a statement for social media. Sara looked shell shocked, as if she’d witnessed something she couldn’t quite process. Alyssa sat very still, recognizing that any comment she made would likely make things worse. A producer rushed onto the set with panic evident in every movement.
“We need to address this when we come back,” she said urgently. “Frame it as him being unable to handle honest questions. Make it clear we don’t platform bigotry.” But even as she spoke, another assistant appeared with a tablet showing social media metrics that were climbing so fast they seemed unreal.
The clip had been viewed 20 million times in the last 12 minutes. The hashtag had already formed organically, spreading across every platform with terrifying velocity. When the show returned from commercial, Whoopi had composed herself into something approximating professional calm.
Though her voice carried an edge that regular viewers would recognize as barely controlled fury. As you just saw, she began. Our guest, Jonathan Roomie, chose to leave rather than defend his harmful views. We want to be absolutely clear that we stand by our right to challenge beliefs that damage real people. The audience applauded, but it sounded different now.
less like genuine approval and more like people choosing sides in a war they sensed was just beginning. Joy jumped in immediately. Her voice sharp. When someone comes on this show and calls women murderers. When they tell LGBTQ people they’re sinful for existing. We’re not going to sit quietly and nod along. We’re going to call that out for what it is.
But the damage control felt hollow because something was happening outside the studio that would render every carefully crafted statement irrelevant. The clip wasn’t just viral. It had achieved that rare cultural phenomenon status. The kind of moment that transcends entertainment and becomes a referendum on deeper questions about faith, freedom, and whether Orthodox beliefs could coexist with progressive values.
Conservative commentators were already running segments calling it the most important stand for religious liberty in modern television. Progressive voices branded Jonathan a dangerous fundamentalist whose theology belonged in the dark ages. Moderate journalists tried to find middle ground, writing think pieces about whether it was possible to disagree with someone’s beliefs while respecting their right to hold them.
At the Chosen’s production offices, phones had been ringing non-stop since the first clip appeared online. Dallas Jenkins had been in a budget meeting when his assistant burst in with a tablet showing the viral moment. He’d watched it twice, his expression shifting from concern to something approaching vindication when network executives called, demanding damage control. Dallas’s response was immediate and unequivocal.
We stand with Jonathan completely. What happened on that show wasn’t about him being unable to handle questions. It was about five hosts who ganged up on him for having the audacity to believe scripture. The executive on the other end started talking about sponsors and distribution partnerships and the need to distance themselves from controversy.
Dallas cut him off with unusual firmness. We made the chosen to show people who Jesus really was. Jonathan just demonstrated that on national television, “If you think we’re throwing him under the bus to protect business relationships, this conversation is over.” He ended the call and immediately tried Jonathan’s number, unsurprised when it went straight to voicemail.
“Brother,” he said after the beep, his voice carrying both concern and pride. “I just watched what happened. You didn’t just walk off that stage. You walked into something bigger than any of us expected. The team stands with you. I stand with you. Call me when you’re ready. By late afternoon, The Chosen’s streaming numbers had begun climbing in ways that defied every prediction.
The show’s website crashed three times from traffic overload. New subscriptions poured in at a rate that overwhelmed the payment processing system. Merchandise orders flooded the fulfillment center so fast they had to bring in emergency weekend staff. Donations from viewers who’d never contributed before came in with notes attached, thanking Jonathan for his courage. Within 24 hours, viewership had surged 82%.
The conventional wisdom said that this kind of controversy would tank a faith-based show, that mainstream rejection meant commercial death. But the conventional wisdom had failed to account for the millions of people who were hungry for someone to stand firm on biblical truth without apologizing or retreating or softening the message to make it palatable.
Jonathan spent that evening in his apartment, finally turning his phone back on to find 963 new emails. His agent had called 14 times, each voicemail more frantic than the last. Text messages from friends and family filled his screen. Some supportive, many confused, a few angry that he’d thrown away his mainstream career for the sake of theological points that didn’t matter to most people.
He made coffee in his small kitchen and sat at the table where he’d prayed that morning, asking God for wisdom and courage. Now 12 hours later, he opened his laptop and began reading through the messages. The hate mail was exactly what he’d expected. Variations on bigot and homophobe and woman hater.
Threats disguised as concern for his safety. messages from industry insiders letting him know with varying degrees of sympathy that he’d committed career suicide. But mixed among the vitrial were other messages, hundreds of them that made his hands shake as he read. A college student writing that she’d been about to get an abortion next week, but watching him stand firm had made her reconsider whether her baby might actually be a life worth protecting.
a pastor thanking him for showing his congregation what it looked like to value truth over popularity. A former lesbian writing that his refusal to affirm had paradoxically made her feel more seen than all the progressive Christians who told her God celebrated her sexuality. Then he found the email that made everything crystallize with perfect clarity. The subject line was simple.
You saved my daughter’s life. He clicked it open and began to read. And by the second paragraph, tears were streaming down his face. The sender’s name was Catherine, and she was the mother of a 17-year-old girl named Emily, who’d been struggling with gender dysphoria for 3 years.
Multiple therapists had recommended immediate transition. Her school had changed her name and pronouns without parental consent. Catherine had felt powerless to protect her daughter from what she believed was a lie wrapped in compassion. a former lesbian writing that his refusal to affirm had paradoxically made her feel more seen than all the progressive Christians who told her God celebrated her sexuality this morning.
Catherine wrote her voice breaking through even in text. Emily watched your interview on The View. She watched five powerful women call you hateful for believing what scripture teaches. And then she watched you refuse to back down. She came to me crying, but they were different tears than before. She said, “Mom, if he believes the Bible enough to lose everything, maybe I should actually read what the Bible says about who I am.
” We talked for 3 hours, really talked for the first time in years. She’s not suddenly healed. The struggle is still real, but she’s questioning the lies now instead of embracing them. and it’s because you didn’t apologize. Thank you for loving my daughter enough to tell the truth. Jonathan saved the email alongside dozens of others.
Understanding that these were the fruits that mattered, the harvest that came from planting seeds of truth even in hostile soil, he thought about the host’s accusations that his beliefs killed people. And here was evidence that the opposite was true. standing firm on scripture, refusing to soften hard truths, had literally saved Emily’s life.
His phone rang with a call from an unfamiliar number. Normally, he wouldn’t answer, but something made him pick up. A young man’s voice came through, shaking with emotion. Mr. Roomie, my name is David. I’m 24 years old and I’m gay. I’ve been watching The Chosen for 6 months and I watched your interview today. Jonathan waited, his heart racing, unsure where this was going.
David continued, his voice gaining strength. I want you to know that every progressive Christian I’ve talked to has told me, “God celebrates my sexuality. Every affirming church has said, I don’t need to change.” And you know what? None of it has brought me peace. because deep down I know what scripture actually says.
I’ve just been hoping someone would give me permission to ignore it. He paused and Jonathan could hear him crying softly. But watching you refuse to give that permission, watching you stand on truth even when it cost you everything, that’s what actually gave me hope. Because if you believe it enough to lose your career over it, maybe it’s true.
And if it’s true, maybe Jesus really can transform me. I’m not saying I know what that looks like yet, but I’m willing to find out now. Thank you for not lying to me. Jonathan talked with David for 40 minutes. Answering questions about faith and struggle and the difference between healing and managing temptation.
When the call ended, he sat in his kitchen staring at his grandmother’s carved crucifix on the wall. understanding with sudden clarity that this was why God had called him to those hostile stages. Not for his own platform, but for people like Emily and David. People who needed someone to demonstrate that biblical truth was worth standing on, even when the whole world demanded compromise.
Three weeks after that morning on The View, Jonathan stood in a small community center in rural Montana, speaking to an audience of 80 people who’d never attended a Hollywood premiere or cared about Neielson ratings. They’d come because someone in their town had shared the clip of his walk-off. And it had sparked conversations about faith and courage that were still rippling through their churches and dinner tables.
A woman approached him after his talk, holding the hand of a teenage girl who looked like she’d been crying recently. “This is my daughter, Rachel,” the woman said, her voice trembling. “She attempted suicide 6 months ago after her youth group told her that struggling with samesex attraction meant God couldn’t love her.
We found her in time, but just barely. Not for his own platform, but for people like Emily and David. people who needed someone to demonstrate that biblical truth was worth standing on even when the whole world demanded compromise. 3 weeks after that morning on the view, Jonathan stood in a small community center in rural Montana.
Speaking to an audience of 80 people who’d never attended a Hollywood premiere or cared about Neielson ratings. They’d come because someone in their town had shared the clip of his walk-off. And it had sparked conversations about faith and courage that were still rippling through their churches and dinner tables. Not for his own platform, but for people like Emily and David.
People who needed someone to demonstrate that biblical truth was worth standing on. Even when the whole world demanded compromise, the view never invited him back. But that wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was how the conversation had shifted even among secular commentators. 6 months after the interview, a moderate journalist wrote a retrospective piece, noting that while she disagreed with Jonathan’s theology, she’d come to respect his consistency.
In an age where everyone apologizes for everything, she wrote, “Watching someone refuse to bend was strangely compelling, even when you wished they would bend in your direction. The cultural conversation hadn’t resolved. If anything, the divisions had deepened. But something had shifted in how Christians approached public witness. Jonathan received countless messages from believers who’d been silent about their faith in professional settings, who’d learned to code switch and soften and apologize for believing outdated things. His walk-off had given them
language for boundaries, for the difference between being winsome and being compromised. Catherine, the mother who’d written about her daughter, Emily, sent an update eight months later. Emily had fully dransitioned and was now helping other teenagers navigate gender confusion with both compassion and truth. She credits you with showing her that biblical authority matters.
Catherine wrote that standing on scripture isn’t hateful. It’s the most loving thing someone can do. The Chosen moved into its sixth season with a boldness that success might have made impossible. The latest episodes tackled Jesus’s hardest teachings without apology. The ones about counting cost and narrow gates, about hating family members by comparison to loving him, about taking up crosses daily. Critics accused the show of becoming more divisive.
viewership climbed to record heights, surpassing 600 million total views. Jonathan’s mainstream career never recovered in the way Hollywood measured recovery. The casting calls stopped completely. Awards shows went silent. Entertainment magazines that had once courted him now ran articles about his fall from grace, always framing his stand as career suicide rather than conviction. But different opportunities had opened.
Unexpected and somehow more satisfying faith-based films that wanted authentic leading men speaking engagements at churches hungry for voices that wouldn’t dilute truth. A life that looked smaller by industry standards but felt larger in ways that transcended metrics. On the one-year anniversary of the View interview, Jonathan received a handwritten letter with no return address.
The handwriting was shaky but elegant. The words few but carrying enormous weight. You don’t know me. It began. But I am alive today because you refused to back down. I’m 19. I was scheduled to get an abortion 2 days after watching your interview. I’d convinced myself it was just tissue, just a choice, just healthcare.
But watching you stand firm on the value of life made me reconsider. I had my baby 3 months ago. She’s beautiful. She’s real. She’s here because you told the truth when it would have been easier to lie. Thank you for loving us both enough to risk everything. Jonathan folded the letter carefully and placed it in his Bible alongside Catherine’s message about Emily, alongside David’s email about choosing transformation over affirmation.
alongside dozens of others that represented lives changed by refusing to compromise. These were the measures that mattered, the metrics that would echo into eternity long after the view had been forgotten. He thought about that morning on the panel, about five powerful women condemning him simultaneously, about walking off that stage with nothing but his convictions.
It had cost him opportunities he’d valued, doors he’d wanted to walk through, the comfort of being universally accepted. But it had bought something more precious. It had bought integrity, authenticity, the peace that comes from knowing you chose faithfulness over fame. The video still circulated, still sparked arguments, still divided people into camps that would probably never fully reconcile.
But for everyone like Rachel who wrote to say, “You showed me Jesus loves strugglers.” For everyone like Emily who wrote to say, “Your refusal to affirm helped me find truth.” For every anonymous mother who wrote to say, “My baby is alive because you stood firm.” The cost had been worth it. Dallas called one evening with news that made Jonathan laugh despite the gravity.
We just got word that several major studios want to partner with us on the chosen movie adaptation. Real money theatrical release, but they want creative control over theology. Jonathan’s response was immediate. No compromise. Show Jesus as he was or don’t show him at all. Dallas’s laugh carried both relief and vindication. That’s exactly what I told them.
Some things aren’t for sale. Two years after the view, Jonathan stood in that same modest apartment where he’d prayed for wisdom before accepting their invitation. The walls were still bare, except for his grandmother’s crucifix. The boxes of letters had grown into filing cabinets full of testimonies from people whose lives had been changed, not by his acting, but by his refusal to apologize for truth.
He picked up his phone and texted Dallas a simple message. ready for season 7? Let’s keep showing them who Jesus really was. The response came immediately. Already writing, “This time we’re doing the hard parables. The ones about servants thrown into darkness and guests removed from the wedding feast. No more playing it safe.
” Jonathan smiled, understanding exactly what Dallas meant. They’d spent six seasons introducing Jesus as he was in the Gospels. Now they’d show what he taught. Even the doctrines that made everyone uncomfortable. Even the truths that divided rather than united because that was the Jesus he’d walked off the view defending. Not the Jesus of cultural Christianity who affirmed everyone’s choices.
Not the Jesus who’d been domesticated into a life coach dispensing positive affirmations, but the Jesus of scripture who demanded everything and offered everything in return. The Jesus worth losing a career for because he was the one thing that actually mattered. The city stretched below his window. Full of people chasing dreams that would ultimately disappoint.
Seeking satisfaction in things that could never deliver. But in that modest apartment with bare walls and filing cabinets full of changed lives, Jonathan Roomie had found what most people spent their whole lives searching for. Not fame, not fortune, just the simple, costly, beautiful peace that comes from standing firm on truth, even when five powerful women and half the nation tell you to compromise.
He’d walked off that stage with nothing but his convictions, and discovered that conviction was the only currency that mattered in the economy of eternity. Somewhere across America, Rachel was learning to walk with Jesus through her struggle. Emily was helping other teenagers find truth. Catherine’s baby, who’d been scheduled for abortion, was celebrating her second birthday.
David was growing in faith and transformation. Anonymous mothers were holding babies who existed because someone refused to call abortion healthcare. Thank you for following this story. Let us know in the comments below. If this story has moved you and you’d like to stand with us in bringing more voices of truth and hope to light, please consider supporting our work.
Even the smallest gift helps us continue creating and sharing these powerful stories. You can find the donate link in the description. And of course, don’t forget to subscribe so you won’t miss the next chapter we’re preparing for you. He’d walked off that stage with nothing but his convictions and discovered that conviction was the only currency that mattered in the economy of eternity.
Somewhere across America, Rachel was learning to walk with Jesus through her struggle. Emily was helping other teenagers find truth. Catherine’s baby, who’d been scheduled for abortion, was celebrating her second birthday. David was growing in faith and transformation, and he’d make that choice again tomorrow.
And the day after that, for as long as God gave him breath and courage to keep choosing faithfulness over popularity, truth over comfort, Christ over culture, because in the end only one voice mattered, and that voice had said, “Well done, not well-liked.” The morning stretched ahead, full of purpose.
Jonathan had work to do, a savior to portray, a gospel to proclaim, a world to reach with the message that had cost him so much and given him everything. He walked to his window, looked out at the city, waking to another day, and whispered a prayer of thanks for the courage to walk away from what didn’t matter so he could walk toward what did.
