Page 51 of Divine Temptations

This guy has gone viral. I’m talking over2.7 million viewson TikTok for one video alone, and that’s just the one with the crying woman and the shaky camerawork that makes it look like found footage from The Blair Witch Project: Church Edition. In the video, Jude touches this woman’s forehead and within seconds, she claims the pain is gone. Crying, she begins to walk, and the crowd explodes. And Jude? He looks like he’s on a holy runway, strutting straight into the Kingdom of God with a fan blowing his shirt open just enough to count abs.

And yeah, he’s hot. I saw the linen pants too. I’m gay, not dead.

But here’s what bothers me, aside from the fact that he looks like a very kissable cult leader. There’s no follow-up. No medical records or independent verification. No receipts. Just testimonies and a lot of breathless Instagram stories that all sound suspiciously rehearsed.

So I’m going to Riverbend, Virginia. Yes, that’s an actual place. Yes, it sounds like a town from a CW drama where someone gets murdered every Tuesday. It’s small, quiet, and it has exactly one Starbucks and way too many church marquees with phrases like “Let Go and Let God.”

Apparently, Jude runs a ministry center there. Not a church exactly, but a “healing space.” Which already sounds likeGwyneth Paltrow and a mega-church had a baby and named it The Sanctuary. There are weekly services. Prayer circles. Layings-on of hands. And, most interestingly, no obvious paper trail. No 501(c)(3). No board of directors, and no actual record of where the money’s going.

Which, to me, smells like holy-grade bullshit.

So, here’s the plan. I’m packing up my field mic, a notebook, and my healthy skepticism, and heading to Riverbend. I want to see this man in action. Get in the room. Feel the energy. Find the cracks. Find the lies. Or hey, if I’m wrong? If he’s the real deal? I’ll say so.

But I doubt I’m wrong.

I’ve spent years dissecting these kinds of performances, and I know the beats. I know when someone’s using belief as a marketing tool, and Jude Brooks plays that part too well. He’s magnetic. He’s beautiful. And he’s probably lying through his very straight, very white teeth.

So buckle up, listeners. This season, we’re starting off with mystery, miracles, and a man who makes Jesus cosplay look downright pornographic. I’ll be updating you from Riverbend, as I chase down the story and, hopefully, the receipts.

And Jude, if you’re listening? I’m coming for you.

Chapter Three

Julian

There’s a specific kind of silence you get in the mountains, and it isn’t really silence, it’s layers. Wind rustling through trees. Birds calling out like gossipy neighbors. The hum of tires on asphalt as I wound my way along Route 39, heading east toward Riverbend. No car horns or subways screeching. No ambulances trying to soundtrack your existential dread. Just peace. Actual, real, unnerving peace.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this... unclenched.

The rental car was a little silver Kia that still had that new car smell. I’d cracked the window, letting in the breeze. It smelled like fresh grass, wildflowers, and distant rain. Basically, the opposite of the subway platform where I’d last fought for air.

The mountains rolled around me like a giant green quilt, and everything looked washed clean. The sky was wide and bluer than I thought sky could be. Puffy clouds drifted lazily, like they had nowhere to be. Trees flanked both sides of the two-lane road, thick with leaves and wild undergrowth, and every so often the road would dip just enough for me to glimpse the Shenandoah River winding along like a silver ribbon.

It was a place people moved to when they decided to leave civilization behind and start fermenting their own kombucha.

And, annoyingly, it was kind of gorgeous.

I exhaled long and slow, rolling my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how tightly wound I’d been until somewhere around mile marker fourteen when my spine unlocked like an old file cabinet. City tension doesn’t dissolve easily. It usually takes tequila or therapy. But apparently, Virginia mountain air could do the trick, too.

I passed a handmade sign nailed to a post:

RIVERBEND–3 MILES.

Painted letters. Slightly crooked. Charming, if you’re into rustic fonts and mild cult vibes.

Then came the billboard.

Big. Glossy. Unmissable.

COSMIC GRACE MINISTRIES — Healing Begins with Belief

Worship Wednesdays | Miracles Nightly | All Are Welcome

Featuring a giant photo of Jude freaking Brooks, all beard and beatific smile. He looked like the cover model for Modern Prophet Monthly.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

“I’m going to expose you,” I muttered, eye twitching.