A Billion Dollar Lie Wrapped in Frosting

Want a word of wisdom? Pretty-packaged gluttony is still a sin.

Crumbl isn’t selling cookies.
They’re selling addiction disguised as entrepreneurship, glamorized on TikTok, and passed off as “family fun.”

But how can you believe anything is wholesome about a 1,200-calorie cookie engineered to trigger a chemical reward loop and wreck your metabolism?

Yet we’re celebrating it because it looks clean, is “fun, " and makes money.

But what’s the cost?

Mormonism, Marketing, and Metabolic Manipulation

Crumbl was founded in Utah by two wealthy Mormon cousins — Jason McGowan and Sawyer Hemsley — both former LDS missionaries. And that’s no small detail.

Because Mormonism isn’t rooted in biblical theology — it’s built on performance, perfectionism, and control. Their doctrine isn’t truth, it’s image.
Everything is curated, from the spotless homes to the clean-cut entrepreneurs to the pastel branding.
But Jesus had a name for that kind of religion:

“Whitewashed tombs — beautiful on the outside, but full of death on the inside.” (Matthew 23:27)

Crumbl is just one more polished tomb.
All frosting. No fruit.

Mormonism’s “Word of Wisdom” bans coffee, alcohol, and tobacco. And yet somehow, selling sugar bombs to children is fair game? This isn’t holiness. It’s health hypocrisy.

Clean Image. Dirty Motives.

Culturally, the Mormon aesthetic is killing it right now — big lashes, modest fashion, spotless homes, and “family values.” It looks righteous on Instagram, but it’s built on image management, not transformation.

“Woe to you… You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.”
— Matthew 23:25

Crumbl reflects that exact false virtue. It's a billion-dollar company built not on nourishment, but on pretty-packaged gluttony.

The founders have home gyms and fit physiques. They don’t eat these cookies daily, but they’re happy to sell them to you and your kids. And they know exactly what it’s doing to your health.

This is the new prosperity gospel:
They profit. You binge.
They lift. You crash.
They eat protein. You eat poison.

The Ingredients Tell the Truth

Crumbl markets itself like a local bakery — warm, nostalgic, and homemade. But the ingredient list tells a different story.

Take their classic milk chocolate chip cookie:

Enriched bleached flour, margarine (with seed oils), processed sugar, artificial flavors, emulsifiers, food dyes, and preservatives.

That’s not “homemade.” That’s a science project wrapped in nostalgia.

These cookies are designed for shelf stability and dopamine, not nourishment. They’re built to override your body’s natural signals so you don’t stop after one bite. Or one cookie. Or one box.

The Fruit of the Spirit Isn’t Strawberry Frosting

We need to stop hiding behind the lie of “everything in moderation.”

Moderation is not a fruit of the Spirit. Self-control is.

And self-control doesn’t mean occasionally choosing things that destroy you. It means knowing what enslaves you — and saying no.

You wouldn’t give your kids a little heroin “in moderation.” So why are we okay with feeding them 60 grams of sugar, artificial dyes, and engineered flavors in one sitting?

Gluttony is still a sin.
Even if it’s pretty.
Even if it’s profitable.
Even if it’s packaged as family-friendly fun.

Engineered to Hook Kids — Just Like Big Tobacco

Crumbl knows exactly what it’s doing. Their marketing is psychological warfare:

  • Innocent pastel boxes that make you lower your defenses.

  • New weekly flavors to create artificial scarcity and FOMO.

  • Rotating menus to keep dopamine spiking.

  • Social media challenges that turn eating into entertainment.

This is the same strategy Big Tobacco used to sell flavored vape pens:
Make it cute. Make it fun. Target the youth. Hook them young.

This isn’t dessert. It’s digital-age gluttony — optimized for virality and addiction.

And even the secular world is starting to push back. Food critics and customers alike are calling Crumbl out for:

  • Underbaked, overly sweet, artificial-tasting cookies

  • Absurd portion sizes (700–1200 calories each)

  • Exorbitant prices

  • And a business model built on excess, not excellence

Growth Isn’t the Same as Goodness

Crumbl is expanding rapidly. But so did Babylon.

Just because something grows doesn’t mean it’s blessed.
Just because it’s successful doesn’t mean it’s righteous.

Not everything that is profitable is praiseworthy.
And not everything that’s family-owned is family-honoring.

We’re watching a new idol rise — baked, boxed, and influencer-approved.
And Christians are cheering it on because it’s “fun.”

Meanwhile:

  • 1 in 2 adults in the U.S. is diabetic or prediabetic.

  • 1 in 5 kids is obese.

  • Heart disease is still the #1 killer.

But sure, let’s defend the cookie company.

This Is the Fruit of False Religion

Crumbl is what happens when a religion teaches rules without repentance.
Outward control without inward change.
Wholesome branding without holy fear.

Mormonism swaps coffee for cookies and calls it healthy.
It prizes appearance over truth. Entrepreneurship over obedience.

And now it’s exporting that culture nationwide, one oversized, underbaked sugar bomb at a time.

The Real Problem Isn’t Crumbl

It’s that we’ve accepted gluttony as normal.
We’ve accepted addiction as funny.
We’ve accepted aesthetics as virtue.

But God doesn’t care how curated your life looks on Instagram. He cares if you’re treating your body like a temple or a trash can.

“So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”
— 1 Corinthians 10:31

Crumbl doesn’t glorify God.
It glorifies sugar, self, and the spirit of Babylon.

It’s Time to Choose Better

Do you want to teach your kids real joy?

Then don’t teach them to celebrate every moment with a cookie.
Teach them to cook real food.
To honor their bodies.
To see through spiritual counterfeits and aesthetic lies.

Because joy isn’t found in frosting.
It’s found in obedience, freedom, and truth.

And that’s not for sale at Crumbl.

Convicted, but not sure where to start?
You don’t need another detox. You need a discipleship plan for your body.

Let’s talk. My 15-minute discovery call is totally free and designed to help you figure out your next best step.

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