The death of Pastor Pat Robertson on June 8, 2023, closed a monumental chapter in American evangelical history — but it also peeled back the curtain on a legacy far more troubling than most believers ever realized. To millions, Robertson was the voice of faith on The 700 Club, a televangelist who brought Christianity into living rooms across America. But behind the polished sermons and televised prayers lay a tangled web of scandal, power, and hypocrisy that continues to haunt his reputation even after death.
Robertson’s rise to prominence began with the founding of the Christian Broadcasting Network (CBN) in 1960, a bold move that transformed a modest television ministry into a multi-billion-dollar empire. Yet, for all its success, cracks soon began to show. In the 1990s, shocking reports surfaced accusing Robertson of diverting charitable donations from his humanitarian group, Operation Blessing, to fund a diamond mining venture in Zaire. Instead of feeding the hungry, critics claimed he was chasing profits, using the Lord’s name as a smokescreen. The fallout led to a $1.7 million settlement, and though Robertson never admitted wrongdoing, the damage to his credibility was irreversible.
His political ambitions added another layer of controversy. During his 1988 presidential campaign, Robertson tapped into evangelical fervor to push a hardline agenda — one that included banning abortion, reinstating mandatory school prayer, and blurring the line between church and state. While his bid failed, it exposed his desire not just to preach faith, but to wield power. His rhetoric alienated moderates and even some Christians who feared he was using religion as a political weapon.
Even more troubling were his bizarre prophecies and inflammatory statements. He once claimed to have “prayed away hurricanes” and publicly suggested that natural disasters were divine punishments for social sins. His comments following tragedies — including blaming the 9/11 attacks on “America’s moral decay” — drew outrage from both political and religious leaders, painting him as a man increasingly detached from compassion and reason.
Behind the scenes, Robertson cultivated relationships with highly controversial figures, including Liberian warlord Charles Taylor, who was later convicted of war crimes. Reports of their financial dealings sparked international criticism and left many questioning how a man of God could align himself with such darkness.
By the time of his death, Robertson’s empire stood as both a testament to his vision and a mirror reflecting his contradictions. He had built one of the most influential Christian media networks in history, yet his legacy remains stained by greed, manipulation, and extremism.
In the end, the story of Pat Robertson is not one of simple faith or fame — it’s a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked influence, where spiritual power became political currency, and where divine calling blurred into self-interest.
Even in death, Robertson’s name evokes one haunting question: Was he truly a messenger of God — or a man who lost his way in the pursuit of power?
