Social media platforms are a breeding ground for rage-baiting.
One mother posts videos of her two-year-old daughter regularly eating large portions of donuts, hamburgers and marshmallows for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Maybe a few blueberries appear on the plate, which the child ignores.
Viewers are horrified. They comment. They share. They rage. So much so, one of these videos hit almost 60 million views and 2 million likes.
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In turn, the algorithm rewards the mother with money. So, she posts more videos of her daughter’s terrible diet.
The cycle continues.
Now she has an Amazon wishlist where followers send her free food and supplies, even as they criticize her parenting. The two-year-old becomes a commodity, her exploitation monetized by outrage.
This is rage-baiting at its most profitable, and it’s just one example among thousands of influencers.
‘Confusing strong feelings with meaningful action’
It’s no wonder Oxford Dictionary chose “rage bait” as their word for 2025, defining it as “online content designed to provoke anger or outrage for increased engagement.”
Social media platforms don’t just allow rage-baiting — they’re built to reward it. The algorithm doesn’t care whether you’re liking content or hating it. It only cares that you’re engaging it. Rage becomes money.
Every outraged comment, every hate-watch, every share with a caption like “I can’t believe this,” all feeds the beast. Creators get paid while you get a cortisol spike and the hollow satisfaction of expressing disgust to strangers who agree with you.
Christians especially care deeply about justice, about protecting the vulnerable, about calling out wrongdoing. These are good impulses, but rage-baiting exploits them.
When we see a child being fed only junk food, our righteous concern for that child is real. But rage-baiting trains us to confuse strong feelings with meaningful action.
Clicking, commenting and sharing doesn’t help the child; it pays the parent to continue.
Best response?
So how should Christians respond?
First, learn to recognize rage-bait. Ask yourself: Is this content designed to make me angry? Does it present a situation in the most inflammatory way possible? If you feel that immediate surge of rage, pause. The feeling might be manufactured.
Second, don’t feed the algorithm. Starve it. Don’t engage with the content if possible. Scrolling past it is not indifference but rather discernment. As the old hymn reminds us: “Oh, be careful, little eyes, what you see.” What we consume feeds us, and a steady diet of manufactured outrage depletes us of nutrients.
Third, replace rather than restrict. Paul’s instruction in Philippians 4:8 isn’t just about avoiding bad content but about actively dwelling on what is “true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy. Think about such things.” This might mean following different accounts (and blocking others) or reading longer-form content that requires thought (the B&R is a good start there).
Fourth, redirect righteous anger toward meaningful action. If you’re genuinely concerned about child exploitation online, support organizations working to support children. Volunteer at a food bank or with your church to support local kids who are often overlooked. Chanel rage-bait energy into actual Kingdom work.
Social media can be a strategic tool for businesses, churches and communities to efficiently share short-form content and connect.
However, our sinful nature can turn something good into something rotten. That rot builds up in the deep damp crevices of social media, oozing into our minds, where it molds, and turns into a blackness that only God’s salvation can restore.
Taming the beast
Let’s be proactive and pay attention to experiments like Australia’s ban on social media for teens under 16, or Utah’s requirements for parental consent and age verification. These policy approaches have their own complications, but they represent a recognition that something has gone terribly wrong.
In the meantime, Christians need to personally practice discernment and understand we feed the beast that profits from our impulses. Our outrage won’t tame it. Only our refusal to be manipulated and a determination to fuel Kingdom work has more impact than engagement metrics.
What we behold, we become. So choose carefully.
EDITOR’S NOTE — This story was written by Zoë Watkins and originally published by the Baptist and Reflector.
