In the early 21st century, “relevance” became the buzzword in Western evangelical Christianity. Pastors, church leaders, and influential Christians tried to rebrand the faith as they felt a new urgency to make the gospel more appealing to the next generation (who were turning away from the faith in growing numbers as polls showed). This was the time of the publication of the magazine RelevantDonald Miller’s book , and the rise of Rob Bell as an evangelical prototype of Steve Jobs. It was the time when checkered fabric, skinny jeans, beards, and tattoos were part of the unofficial uniform of pastors. It was a publicity effort to market a less legalistic, more culture-friendly, and “emerging” faith; very different from the dusty religion of your grandparents.
I wrote a chronicle of this strange era, meticulously detailed in (hipster christianity), which was released 10 years ago this month. In many ways this book is already a relic, a time capsule of certain segments of evangelicalism at the turn of the millennium. But the dated nature of the book proves the point he was trying to make: that “Christianity cool” is, if not an oxymoron, at least an exercise in futility. Relevance-focused Christianity sows the seeds of its own obsolescence. Rather than rescuing or reviving Christianity, a hipster faith reduces it to a commodity, as fickle and fleeting as the latest runway fashion. Tying the relevance of Christianity to its ability to find favor with the “boys cool” (the latest in a long history of evangelical obsession with the image) is a serious mistake.
Here are a few reasons.
Going after “relevance” is exhausting and unsustainable
As I write in the last chapter, it is problematic to assume that true relevance means constantly keeping up with trends and “meeting the culture where it is:
“This mentality assumes that no one will listen to us if we are not loud and innovative enough; no one will take us seriously if we are not versed in the culture; and no one will find Jesus interesting unless He can adapt to the spirit of the times. But this kind of ‘relevance’ is defined primarily and inextricably by that thing Christianity resolutely defeats: transience. Things that are permanent are not fleeting, fickle, or fashionable. They are solid… the true relevance endures”.
My argument centered on the inherent transience of the “cool” that makes “Christianity cool“Unsustainable by definition. Today’s fashionable, magazine-cover pastor is tomorrow’s past. Church cool today’s fast-growing, crowded 20-somethings will be the old news (used to go there) next year. Instant obsolescence is inherent in the system of hipster Christianity (or anything that is hipster). The fact that most of the fashionable Christian figures profiled in the book today are off the radar of evangelical influence is revealing. Donald Miller is a . Mark Driscoll’s Seattle megachurch disbanded. Rob Bell is a new age guru backed by Y . And so on. The fact that most of the names and trends emphasized in hipster christianity just a decade ago they have been all but forgotten (and would be replaced with a new set of personalities and trends today) proves the book’s premise.
Relevance-focused Christianity sows the seeds of its own obsolescence
I know a few people who have stayed in trendy churches for most of the last decade, but many have gone on to other (usually liturgical and refreshingly boring) churches. Others have abandoned Christianity altogether. It turns out that the church that seemed super cool to your 23 year old self she may not be attractive to your professional 33 year old self with kids. It turns out that a church that preaches sermons on “God in the movies!” more than the doctrine of the atonement, it doesn’t serve you well in the long run. It turns out that a pastor with whom you can drink, smoke, and see breaking bad is not as important as a pastor whose little holiness cool could, perhaps could, spur you to grow in Christlikeness.
David Wells is right, in when he says:
“The marketing church has calculated that unless it makes serious and profound cultural adaptations, it will cease to exist, especially for the younger generation. What you have not considered carefully enough is that you may well be ceasing to exist for God. And the added irony is that younger generations who are less impressed by genius technology, who often see through what is fancy and glitzy, and who have received enough marketing to make them nauseated, are just as likely to to leave these churches so relevant, as to enter them”.
For pastors and churches, pursuing the “cool” is a fool’s task. It’s investing energy in things that will fail you. It’s utterly exhausting (who can keep up with the trends?) and drains energy from the more important, if less attractive, tasks of teaching sound doctrine and making true disciples.
We are often changed by the culture we are trying to achieve
Overemphasis on cultural acceptability, in whatever culture you find yourself in, inevitably leads to a theological compromise. The obsession with the image of evangelicalism, driven by pragmatism, has been its downfall. Being seeker-sensitive almost always means smoothing over difficult doctrines or ignoring them altogether. Preaching for applause, clicks, and credibility from a particular group almost always leads to a theological distortion. “It’s time to bring Christianity into the 21st century” is often code for “let’s stop dwelling on sex, profanity, holiness, inerrancy, and all that unpopular fundamentalist stuff.” Attempts to square Christianity with the politics of whatever audience you wish to impress (and this happens across the spectrum) eventually lead to faith shaped by politics rather than politics shaped by faith.
Preaching for plaudits, clicks, and credibility from a particular group almost always leads to a theological distortion.
I have noticed a pattern in the decade since Christianity hYoposters. A theologically conservative twenty-something seminary graduate is excited about planting a church in some post-Christian place that has a terrific cafe (Portland, Brooklyn, San Francisco). He moves there and starts a church with the good intentions of transforming the highly secular culture for Christ. But over time, the highly secular culture transforms him. The seemingly missional immersion in libertine morality, politics “woke”, and the city’s gentrifying neighborhood craft beer scene shapes him in its image. Instead of changing the culture, he is changed by it. An initially earnest attempt at “relevant Christianity” gave way to cynicism, compromised witness, and perhaps even abandonment of the faith. Mark Sayers discusses this dynamic insightfully in his 2016 book, Disappearing Church (the missing church). It’s a big reason why hipster Christianity has failed to energize the evangelical movement.
Undoubtedly, involving culture is vital: understanding it, diagnosing it, appreciating aspects of it. But don’t be naive about its risks (I speak here with a lot of experience). Do not underestimate the formative power of our increasingly post-Christian and digitally mediated world.
We are heirs, not inventors, of Christianity
Ultimately, the evangelical church’s obsession with relevance, of which “hipster Christianity” is just one manifestation, stems from one of its greatest vulnerabilities: ahistorical presenteeism. The average evangelical has woefully little understanding of Christian history and church tradition (because how could they be relevant to the totally unique needs of millennials the dead guys of yesteryear like Agustín). But ignorance of the past makes evangelicals susceptible to all kinds of theological and ecclesiological confusion. Rather than continue the church’s past, build on the foundations of Christian history, and joyfully steward received doctrine and practice, many are more interested in constant reinvention. The assumption is that each new generation must “do church” in a new way.
Ignorance of the past makes evangelicals susceptible to all kinds of theological and ecclesiological confusion.
Certainly contextualization is important, and adaptation to the times is necessary to a certain extent. Certainly, it is not worth keeping everything inherited from previous generations. But secular observers are right to be suspicious when they notice the large number of churches that present themselves as new, different, and original (“We are in a JC Penney abandoned!”. “Our worship group sounds like a mix of Pink Floyd and Sigur Rós!” “We are charismatic Calvinists with a coffee roaster at church!”). One can’t help but feel that churches are just consumer products looking to differentiate themselves in a crowded marketplace: business schemes and gimmicks to sell some spiritual experience.
That’s what “church fashion” invariably communicates: just another thing being sold to you. This is a problem for many reasons, as I wrote in hipster christianity:
“If I choose Christianity primarily because it’s cleverly marketed, as I might choose an iPhone, the risk that I won’t be true to that ‘brand’ forever is high. After all, I was never drawn to the ‘thing’ itself, only to attractive marketing, which can easily be outmaneuvered by competitors in the future. Trying to sell the gospel as coolThis, then, is a dangerous proposition, because it bases the appeal of the gospel on an external definition of marketability and genius that will appeal to people but has very little to do with the actual content of the message. Converts to this gospel will likely be like the seeds in rocky soil in Matthew 13: without any roots.”
Selling “cool Christianity” doesn’t work
It can be tempting for pastors and church leaders these days to get desperate, resorting to outrageous novelties and gimmicks to get people’s attention and sit in church. But remember that if the faith we attract people to does not accurately reflect the faith Jesus gave us, if our attractive church minimizes the cost of discipleship (Luke 14:25-33), for example, it will not be a faith sustainable or transformative.
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