In a shocking twist that rocked the sleepy town of Denton, Texas, Pastor Marvin Jenkins was discovered using church funds, originally intended for a new youth outreach center, to purchase Fortnite skins. The revelation came to light when an anonymous tipster—allegedly the pastor’s ex-lover—leaked screenshots of Jenkins’ flamboyant in-game avatar, sporting a golden AK-47 and a cape that read ‘Thou Shalt Not Pass.’
According to an internal memo from the Church of the Holy Redeemer, Jenkins had been funneling tithes into an elaborate system of crypto transactions designed to mask his purchases on Epic Games. “It is with heavy hearts that we announce our pastor’s unexpected journey into digital warfare,” said church treasurer Mildred Cartwright. “He told us he was testing virtual sermons in the Metaverse, but no one thought that meant battle royales on company time.”
The scandal has sparked debates over the murky intersection of religion and technology. Some experts suggest this is just the tip of the iceberg for faith-based blockchain misuse. “If pastors can buy Fortnite skins, what’s stopping them from investing in NFTs of Jesus doing kickflips?” asked Dr. Logan Wu, who specializes in digital ethics at Stanford University. In reality, churches nationwide are seeing a rise in cyber-savvy clergymen leveraging tech to ‘spread the word,’ but also to satisfy their personal indulgences.
An investigative report revealed a staggering $23,000 spent by Jenkins on virtual outfits and weapons since January. Experts speculate a new black market could emerge centered around rare Fortnite assets traded among clergy members. The ‘Divine Drop’ (a term coined by industry insiders) might soon rival traditional offerings like bake sales or church raffles. The long-term effects on parishioner trust remain uncertain, but one source within the congregation mentioned, “We always thought his sermons were too high-energy; turns out he was just amped up about his kill/death ratio.”
As for Pastor Jenkins, he’s reportedly entered a ‘rehabilitation program’ that involves fasting from all video games while learning to distinguish between spiritual warfare and online shootouts. Local reactions have been mixed; some parishioners feel betrayed while others admire his gaming prowess. “At least now we know why his sermons were always so animated,” quipped one church-goer, adding wryly, “I just hope he saved enough V-Bucks for confession.”
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