Every year, as March 17th rolls around, we’re smothered beneath an avalanche of green—green beer, green shamrocks, green everything—as if someone accidentally detonated a giant Leprechaun-themed confetti bomb. Amid this nauseating sea of verdant monotony, a dissenting few choose to wear orange, not as an alternative color choice, but as a rebuke to the cloying narrative that all roads lead to Rome—a Rome, mind you, which has proven itself a direct off-ramp into spiritual ruin.

Why orange, though? Why break from the mindless green conformity?

Well, here’s a shocker…because history demands it, because conscience requires it, and because integrity insists upon it. Orange isn’t just another pretty shade to pair with your green Guinness. It’s a deliberate slap in the face to the narrative hijacked by Rome—a narrative spun from cobwebs of superstition, works-righteousness, and spiritual vanity.

The color orange commemorates William of Orange’s 1690 victory at the Battle of the Boyne, a battle where the chains of Catholic domination were smashed by a Protestant king who refused to bow to papal tyranny.

But here come the accusations, loud and predictable as a pack of spoiled children screaming at bedtime: “How dare you politicize St. Patrick! Don’t you know he was a Catholic?” And with that one shallow retort, the historical ignorance paraded by Rome’s cheerleaders shines brighter than a neon sign at midnight.

The uncomfortable truth—the truth Rome desperately hopes you’ll never bother digging up—is that Patrick’s true beliefs, if there were any, would be far more comfortable in the pulpit of a fire-breathing Protestant preacher than beneath the gold-plated dome of St. Peter’s Basilica.

And whether or not this claim is historically watertight (spoiler alert, it’s pretty convincing), the symbolic truth remains just as potent…orange declares unequivocally that salvation is by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone—not through kissing relics, muttering rosaries, or performing backflips through Rome’s endless hoops of penance.

How ironic, isn’t it, that the same Catholic apologists who shriek about appropriation and cultural sensitivity have so shamelessly appropriated Patrick himself, draping him in layers of ecclesiastical superstition as if he were nothing more than another prop in Rome’s religious theater? Rome’s army of rosary-rattling hypocrites has done more to distort Patrick’s legacy than any Protestant ever could.

Yet somehow, they accuse those of us who wear orange on days like today of division and provocation. Hypocrisy much? Rome’s revisionist campaign would be hilarious if it weren’t so dishonest.

But let’s press pause for a second. Have you ever wondered why Rome gets so triggered when confronted with the simple color orange? Why do they react as if a bucket of ice water was dumped over their incense burners? Could it be because orange symbolizes something far more threatening to Rome’s spiritual monopoly—a return to biblical Christianity that places Christ alone on the throne?

Could it be because the idea of justification by faith alone reduces their labyrinth of indulgences and papal decrees to nothing more than ashes and dust?

You bet your shamrocks it does.

Orange, therefore, is a relentless indictment against Rome’s bloated, convoluted, gospel-denying religion. And it’s no coincidence that the same institution that claims to hold the keys to Heaven is also the same institution so consistently leading people down the road to Hell, like a spiritual Pied Piper whose sweet song ends at the edge of a cliff.

So, when you see someone daring enough to wear orange amidst the green hysteria, understand this—they’re not being divisive. They’re defiantly refusing to swallow the syrupy lie that all roads lead to Rome. They are simply declaring, with vivid and unapologetic valor, that Roman Catholicism is just a gaudy rest stop on the broad highway to perdition.

Maybe next year, amid your green-stained festivities, you’ll pause and ask yourself: Am I celebrating Patrick—or Rome’s distorted caricature of him?

If the answer unsettles you, perhaps it’s time to trade that nauseating shade of green for a splash of uncompromising, historical, gospel-affirming orange.