There comes a point where mockery becomes unavoidable.

Not because God’s Word deserves mockery—it never does. Because the people claiming to speak for God become so preposterous that satire practically writes itself.

If you’ve never heard of Bobby Conner, he’s one of the more recognizable figures in the hypercharismatic world. His followers present him as a globally recognized “prophetic voice”—a man who receives “fresh words” from God with stunning accuracy and supernatural power.

Then he tells this story.

Standing before a packed church with television cameras rolling, he says God interrupted his sermon.

“The Lord says, ‘Bobby?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘I have something for Pastor Mark.’”

So far, nothing unusual by charismatic standards. But then comes the alleged command from God:

“I want you to rotate him over and suck a hickey on his neck.”

He pauses. “What?”

Then he assures the audience God repeated Himself.

“I don’t recommend this. But I grabbed on Mark…it looked like a tomato. I sucked a big… ripe place on the side of his head.”

And the audience laughs. No one stands up and says, “Brother, that’s blasphemy.” Nobody opens a Bible. Instead, everyone just absorbs another installment of prophetic theater.

This is exactly where the hypercharismatic movement has wandered. It has drifted so far from Scripture that almost any bizarre impulse can be baptized with four dangerous words:

“God told me.”

That phrase has become a blank check.

God told me to bark. God told me to flap my arms. God told me to roll on the floor. God told me to buy this private jet. God told me to divorce my wife. God told me to give you a prophetic wedgie. God told me to suck a hickey on another man’s neck.

At some point sane people ought to ask the obvious question.

Did He?

Or are you simply using God’s name to sanctify your own stupidity?

The Third Commandment isn’t limited to profanity. It forbids taking the name of the Lord in vain. That includes attaching His holy name to words He never spoke.

When someone claims divine revelation for something God never said, that’s a big deal. He is putting words into the mouth of God.

Think about that.

The God whose voice split cedars… The God before whom Isaiah cried, “Woe is me.” The God whose Son is called the Word made flesh…

According to Bobby Conner, that same God interrupted a worship service because He desperately wanted a preacher to leave a love bite on another preacher’s neck.

Come on, this isn’t Christianity. The truly tragic part isn’t Bobby Conner. Every generation has produced religious eccentrics.

The tragedy is the movement that rewards this behavior. The more outrageous the story becomes, the more “anointed” the speaker appears. The stranger the revelation, the more spiritual it sounds. The less tethered someone is to Scripture, the greater his prophetic reputation grows.

Biblical discernment gets replaced by spectacle. The Bereans get replaced by fans. Open Bibles get replaced with open mouths.

Meanwhile, the Holy Spirit—the One they constantly invoke—is the very One being dishonored.

But Jesus said the Spirit would glorify Christ (John 16:14). The Spirit inspired the Scriptures (2 Tim. 3:16; 2 Pet. 1:21). The Spirit produces truth, holiness, self-control, and sound judgment.

He does not manufacture circus acts. He does not compete with Scripture by issuing random, embarrassing commands. He does not entertain crowds through awkward stunts that make people remember the prophet instead of Christ.

Every time someone confidently announces, “God told me…” when God did no such thing, the name of the Holy Spirit gets dragged into the lie. That ought to make us angry.

And here’s what makes this even more serious. People laugh these stories away because they’re ridiculous. I mean, I admit that laughed too, at first. Frankly, how do you not? It’s objectively hilarious on the surface.

Then the laughter dies because behind the comedy sits something deadly serious. The false prophet doesn’t have to outright deny the Trinity. He doesn’t have to reject the resurrection.

He simply has to convince people that God’s voice sounds like whatever pops into his head.

Once that happens, Scripture quietly moves into the passenger seat. That’s how deception works. It rarely begins with outright heresy. It begins with a man claiming private access to God’s mind.

The church desperately needs to recover a scandalously old-fashioned conviction:

God has spoken.

He has spoken finally and sufficiently in His Son and in the Scriptures that testify about Him.

I don’t need or want some clown prophet who claims God told him to leave hickeys on pastors. We need pastors who open the Bible, explain what God has already said, and then sit down.

That’s infinitely more supernatural than charismania’s traveling sideshow.