The Fake & Fraudulent Prophets Around the President
September 4, 2026 |
Daniel Henderson
Jim Henson shouldn’t have died the way he did. In 1990, strep and pneumonia were treatable. But when Henson finally went to the hospital, the infection had ravaged his body. By the time doctors saw him, it was too late. The man who gave the world Kermit and Big Bird was undone, not by a lack of medical science, but by a theology of denial.
Henson was raised in Christian Science, and while he wasn’t a strict adherent at the end of his life, the damage was done. The script was written into him from childhood: sickness isn’t real, doctors can’t be trusted, prayer fixes everything. So he waited. He hesitated. And the bacteria didn’t. Even when we walk away from our religious roots, they have a way of whispering in our heads. Sometimes those whispers are benign. Sometimes they bury you.
Let’s start with the obvious: Christian Science is neither Christian nor scientific. It’s an oxymoron with a body count. Jesus didn’t tell sick people their illness was an illusion. He touched them. He healed them. He fed them. He entered their pain and restored their humanity. Christian Science rewrites that story into a theology of gaslighting: “You’re not sick, you just think you are.”
Science, on the other hand, deals in reality. Evidence. Cause and effect. CS tosses that out and replaces it with magical thinking in King James drag. It’s not healing—it’s willful negligence baptized as faith.
That’s why kids die of treatable diseases in CS households. That’s why adults suffer in silence. And that’s why Jim Henson didn’t get to grow old. Christian Science is nuts. It’s faith by denial and science by delusion.
But here’s the part that matters: even when you leave, you don’t really leave. Religious worldviews don’t evaporate when you stop going to church. They stick in your bones. They haunt your decision-making. They form the inner voices that second-guess you. Jim Henson’s tragedy is the case study. He didn’t die as a Christian Scientist. He died with Christian Science still rattling around his head.
That’s the cautionary tale. Bad theology doesn’t just warp your view of God—it warps your view of reality itself. And when the stakes are life and death, that warped view can kill you.
It’s easy to pick on Christian Science. They’re a fringe cult with a goofy name. They look like the weirdo cousins of Christianity who never get invited to the family reunion. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: the rest of American Christianity isn’t much better.
I grew up Southern Baptist. From the pulpit, I’d hear pastors proclaim that our denomination had the “right” gospel, the “true” way, the real deal while everyone else was playing church. That smug exclusivity wasn’t fringe—it was mainstream. We were convinced we had the monopoly on God, and everyone else was damned. Sound familiar? Different creed, same culty energy.
Christian Nationalists baptize Caesar and call it Jesus. Prosperity preachers slap a cross on greed and call it blessing. Purity culture sanctifies shame and trauma. Evangelical certainty strangles humility and mystery. No, they’re not praying away measles—but they are choking the life out of faith, community, and joy.
So yes, Christian Science helped kill Kermit’s dad. But before we laugh too hard at the absurdity of Mary Baker Eddy’s fever dream, maybe we should admit that the rest of American Christianity has its own insane quirks—just better branding. We didn’t kill a Muppet, but we’ve built entire empires on fear, control, and denial all the same.
At least Christian Science is honest in its absurdity. The rest of us just hide ours behind worship bands and fog machines.
