In The Last Days: When the Church is Exposed for Greed and Not Being Charitable ‘After All’

By QCP Media

In the last days, truth has a way of revealing itself, not through prophecy alone, but through the actions of those who claim to walk in truth.

A viral social media experiment by a young woman named Nikalie Monroe has set off a firestorm of debate across the internet about the modern church, charity, and accountability. Her series, which began as a TikTok experiment, shows Monroe calling various churches across the country, from Kentucky to Louisiana, posing as a desperate mother of a two-month-old baby who had run out of formula. As the phone rings, the faint sound of a baby crying plays in the background.

Her question was simple:

“Can you help me get a can of baby formula?”

But the answers revealed something deeper than anyone expected.

Over the course of 37 recorded calls, many churches offered apologies but no assistance — some saying their outreach was only for members, others citing lack of funds or available resources. Yet, a few — including two Christian churches and one Islamic center — did respond with compassion, immediately offering to purchase the formula.

Among those praised online was the Islamic Center of Charlotte in North Carolina, which issued a heartfelt statement after their clip went viral:

“To know that our actions helped shift a perspective and allowed you to witness the heart of Islam is a powerful affirmation of the values we strive to live by.”

Their words resonated deeply across faith communities, and sparked even more questions about what Christianity, the world’s most vocal religion about giving, truly practices behind closed doors.

Not everyone took Monroe’s experiment well. One church that declined the request, Living Faith Christian Center in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, became a focal point after its pastor, Bishop Raymond W. Johnson, publicly condemned the experiment during his Sunday sermon.

“The person who pretends to have a crying baby to trick churches — that’s low,” Johnson said, calling Monroe’s actions “the spirit of a witch.”

Johnson defended his church’s charitable record, saying they have quietly fed thousands without seeking recognition. Still, the internet’s reaction was divided, some agreeing that deception shouldn’t be used to test faith, while others questioned why a simple request for baby formula warranted such a harsh rebuke.

Another pastor, Dr. Matt Brown of Germantown Baptist Church, also faced backlash after denying the same request. Online users began digging into the church’s financial records and posting inconsistencies between its public image of generosity and its actual financial transparency. Soon, former members began sharing stories of “church hurt” — times they turned to the church for help only to be denied, shamed, or silenced.

The collective outrage has reignited a timeless question:

What is the role of the church if not to feed the hungry and care for the poor?

Many critics have pointed to Malachi 3:10, the scripture often quoted during offering time, “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house.”

But if the storehouse is full, they ask, where is the meat for the widow, the orphan, and the struggling mother with no milk for her baby?

Too often, parishioners are urged to “sow a seed” even when their own lights are being cut off, while pastors drive luxury cars and live in gated communities. Some congregations equate questioning leadership with “rebellion against God.” In doing so, the church that once comforted the broken now rebukes them for speaking up.

Whether Monroe’s experiment was right or wrong, it undeniably exposed something raw about the state of faith in America. The conversation isn’t about one woman’s prank — it’s about a system of selective compassion.

The same churches that preach forgiveness sometimes fail to extend it. The same pulpits that condemn greed can appear steeped in it. And the same institutions that call for repentance may now be facing their own reckoning.

If the church truly desires revival, it must start not with another conference, another tithe message, or another campaign, but with humility. The kind that looks a desperate mother in the eye, real or not, and says:

“We’ll find a way to help.”

Because in the last days, it won’t be the sinner who exposes the church, it will be the silence of those who stopped caring.