World’s highest IQ record holder just dropped a bombshell on X.
Dr. YoungHoon Kim (IQ 276 — officially recognized by Guinness World Records and Giga Society) declared:
“As the world’s highest IQ record holder, I believe that Jesus Christ is God, the way and the truth and the life.”
When skeptics pushed back, the 36-year-old South Korean neuroscientist replied with powerful simplicity: “Amen. Christ is my logic.”
He went further: “The Bible doesn’t need to be updated. The world needs to catch up.”
Now with over 14 million views, Dr. Kim is using his platform to lead souls to God — proving that true intelligence doesn’t run from the Cross.
It kneels before it.
Details in comments 👇
#JesusIsLord #FaithAndReason #HighestIQ #BibleTruth #ChristIsKing
Wow! I’m not crying 😭 Six year old Michael Cooney was born with Cerebral Palsy and was told he might not walk. When his father Marine Staff Sargent Jeremy Cooney returned home from Deployment at Camp Lejeune, then Something Wonderful Happened as his Dad stepped off the Bus, Michael Stood up on his own and took his first unassisted Steps towards his Dad.
A young man lost his life.
A family buried a son.
Parents are living every mother’s and father’s worst nightmare.
And somehow, in the middle of that grief, there were people celebrating.
Not demanding justice.
Not debating facts.
Celebrating.
“We glad Austin dead.”
Think about how broken a person has to be to say something like that.
That isn’t compassion. That isn’t activism. That isn’t justice.
It’s democrat we cruelty.
And here’s the part that infuriates me most: a handful of loud, ignorant people get on social media and suddenly the media acts like they represent millions of Americans.
They don’t represent Black America.
They don’t represent decency.
They don’t represent the overwhelming majority of normal people who understand that when a young life is lost, the proper response is grief, not Democrats celebration.
What we’re witnessing is not courage.
It’s moral decay.
Because when a society starts applauding tragedy, mocking grieving families, and treating human suffering like entertainment, we’ve crossed a line that has nothing to do with race, politics, or ideology.
It’s a question of basic humanity.
How did we get to the point where some people can watch a family suffer and respond with applause?
That’s what “we” talking about today.
#AStoneGroove #SilentMajoritySpeaks
If you're very concerned about extroardinary wealth leading to concentration of power in government, may I suggest a system of horizontal and vertical checks and balances, restricted to limited and enumerated powers?
Hey Jasmine…
Black pilot here.
I think you missed the plot.
Then again, that’s becoming a pattern.
I graduated from West Point.
I went through Army flight school.
I learned to fly the AH-64 Apache.
I deployed to combat and flew 55 combat missions over Baghdad.
Nobody handed me a cockpit because of my skin color.
Nobody lowered the standards for me.
Nobody looked at me and said, “Let’s check a diversity box.”
That’s what people like you don’t seem to understand.
Suggesting that Black pilots, Black engineers, Black doctors, or Black leaders need special preferences to succeed is not empowering, it’s insulting.
I didn’t want a different standard.
I wanted the same standard.
And when you’re flying into combat, the American people don’t care what race the pilot is.
They care whether the pilot is qualified.
Merit isn’t racist.
Excellence isn’t discriminatory.
And reducing every achievement to skin color says far more about your worldview than it does about mine.
He hadn't smiled in days, terrified of his upcoming 12-hour surgery. Then, two Navy SEALs walked into his room.
10-year-old Cody had been in the hospital for weeks, his body broken from a terrible car accident. To save his spine, doctors had to put him in a "halo brace," a metal ring bolted to a vest to keep him still. It was painful, scary, and he hadn't smiled in days.
He was facing another, even more dangerous 12-hour surgery. The night before, his Child Life Specialist, a woman whose job it was to help him cope, asked him what his one biggest wish was. "I want to meet a real soldier," he whispered. "A real hero."
That specialist had a brother. He was a Navy SEAL.
The next morning, the call went out. A SEAL team was in the middle of a 48-hour urban training exercise just miles away. When they heard the request, the team leader didn't hesitate. "We're going."
Two operators, still in full combat gear—faces covered in camo paint, night-vision goggles flipped up—walked into the pediatric ward. The hospital went silent.
They entered Cody's room. He'd been crying, but his eyes went wide.
"Hey, Cody," the first SEAL said, his voice gentle. "We heard we had a real fighter in here."
"You're... you're real," Cody whispered, his eyes locked on their gear.
"We sure are," the second SEAL said, smiling. "And we heard you were going into a tough fight today. We wanted to give you this." He unclipped a patch from his vest. "This is our team patch. We only give it to the toughest guys we know. And you? You're tougher than any of us."
For 10 minutes, Cody wasn't a sick kid. He was a new recruit, being visited by his brothers-in-arms.
Credit - original owner ( respect 🫡)