Church Life

Slaying Dragons in Our Modern-Day Quest

We at Christianity Today are the storytellers. You are the dragon slayers.

A knight fighting a green dragon with a sword on a yellow background.
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Getty

As I write this, the Olympics are streaming into our living rooms. I watch with a particular interest. In what seems like another life, I was a national champion gymnast and Olympic hopeful before my career ended in a catastrophic spinal injury. But I love the Olympics with every fiber of my being and enjoy watching how elite athletes respond to the planetary pressure of the world’s biggest competition. 

Often, when they commence the competition, the athletes are on their heels. The moment has finally arrived. They’re daunted. Afraid of making a mistake. This makes them passive, tentative, and ironically more likely to fall. They had set out on a good quest to slay the dragon. It turns out that when they get there, the dragon is enormous. 

If they’re lucky, they have time to recover. The men’s gymnastics team in Paris competed the first round on their heels—and fell. In the second round, they came out charging—and won the first men’s team medal in a generation. 

This is one of the things you learn as an athlete. You cannot wait for the dragon to attack you. You need to attack the dragon. 

What’s the dragon of our time? Is it outside the camp, some external enemy that threatens the future of the church, perhaps the progressive program of a hostile secular culture? As much as I disagree with that program, I don’t believe it is. Or is it a certain individual or circle of individuals, false shepherds, who have betrayed the faith and misled the faithful? I don’t believe that is the answer either. 

Let the church be the church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. Let us preserve our first love, and the deceivers will not seduce us. In other words, the dragon is not them. The dragon is us—the sin in our hearts, the beam in our own eye, the ways we so easily lose sight of our Savior, neglect our first love, and tear one another apart in pursuit of worldly ends. That dragon is destroying and dividing the church. That dragon is robbing the world of its witness to the kingdom of God’s grace and truth. 

With this issue, we announce the first campaign in our 68-year history. The One Kingdom Campaign is our good quest—and our invitation to you—to defeat the dragon together. It is an effort to reenchant the church with Christ and his kingdom, recast a captivating vision of what it means to follow Jesus and regather a community around that vision. It is an effort to help the church be the church again. 

To be clear, we are not the dragon slayers. You are. The little old lady who has taught Sunday school every week for 50 years is. The missionary who sets out to the far corners of the planet is. The businessperson or scientist or artist who infuses their faith into everything they do. The pastor who preaches faithfully. The parents who show the love of Christ to their little ones. Even the wounded believer who speaks up and says the church can do better. 

You are the dragon slayers. We are the storytellers. Christianity Today is a great storyteller for the global kingdom of God. We need the stories that lift up the eyes of the church, that show what God is doing all around the planet. Stories that unite us across continents, across generations, and across ethnic and political divides. Stories that remind us what it means to love Jesus and represent him even in the darkest places of the world. 

We will continue to share more with you about this campaign—but for now, most importantly, we ask you to prayerfully be a part of it. We cannot do this without you. See the brochure with this issue we have included, or visit OneKingdom.ChristianityToday.com, to learn how you can join this quest. Because it’s your quest as much as ours. 

We must attack the dragon. And it’s going to take all of us.

Timothy Dalrymple is president and CEO of Christianity Today.

News

What It Takes to Plant Churches in Europe

Where some see ambition as key to evangelism, others experiment with subtler ways of connecting to people who don’t think they need God.

Luigi Olivadoti

The goal is audacious. But as far as James Davis, founder of the Global Church Network, is concerned, Christians need deadlines. Otherwise, they will never do what they need to do to fulfill the Great Commission.

His group gathered in Zurich, Switzerland, last September with 400 ministry leaders from across Europe who committed to raising up and equipping more than 100,000 new pastors in the next decade. The network plans to establish 39 hubs in Europe, with a goal of 442 more in the years to come, for training church planters, evangelists, and pastors to proclaim the gospel.

“A vision becomes a goal when it has a deadline,” Davis said at the event.

“So many Christian leaders today doubt their beliefs and believe their doubts. It is time for us to doubt our doubts and believe our beliefs. We will claim, climb, and conquer our Mount Everest, the Great Commission.”

Davis has a number of very motivated partners in this project, including the Assemblies of God, the Church of God (Cleveland, Tennessee), and the International Pentecostal Holiness Church. The network also counts The Wesleyan Church, the Church of the Nazarene, the Foursquare Church, the Church of God in Christ, and OMF International (formerly Overseas Missionary Fellowship) as members of a broader coalition working to complete the Great Commission in the near future. If it turns out their European goal is a bit beyond reach, they will still undoubtedly do a lot between now and their deadline.

And the Global Church Network is not alone. In Germany, the Bund Freikirchlicher Pfingstgemeinden (Association of Free Church Pentecostals) has announced plans to plant 500 new churches by 2033. The group, celebrating its 150th anniversary in 2024, told CT it is currently planting new congregations at a rate of about seven per year. Raising up new pastors is key to its growth strategy. 

And the Bund Evangelisch-Freikirchlicher Gemeinden in Deutschland (Association of Free Evangelical Churches in Germany) has planted 200 churches in the past decade. It has grown to about 500 congregations with 42,000 members. The Free Evangelicals also have plans to launch 70 new churches by 2030, at a rate of 15 per year, and then start another 200 by 2040. 

“Goal setting is a bit of a thing in Europe,” said Stefan Paas, the J. H. Bavinck Chair for Missiology and Intercultural Theology at the Free University of Amsterdam and the author of Church Planting in the Secular West.

He’s not convinced it’s a good thing for Christian missions, though. In fact, he doesn’t think ambition, verve, and goal setting actually work.

Paas’s research shows that supply-side approaches—the idea that if you plant it, they will come—seem promising and often demonstrate early success, but the results mostly evaporate. While it is widely believed that planting new churches causes growth, he said, that’s not what the evidence shows.

“Yes, newer churches tend to draw in more people and more converts, but they also lose more,” Paas told CT. “There’s a backdoor dynamic where people come into newer churches but then leave.”

He examined the Free Evangelicals’ membership statistics from 2003 to 2017 and found that church plants often correlated with quick growth but then slow decline. 

“It’s one thing to draw people, and another thing to keep them,” he said. 

Part of the problem, according to Paas, is that the things that attract people to new churches, like great music, dynamic preaching, and a sense of real passion about something happening, don’t translate into deeper discipleship. People don’t get more involved or committed, and when church stops being new or exciting, they fade away. 

This is why church plants often seem very successful in urban contexts, where lots of new people arrive every day; it can ironically prove easier to attract new converts in deeply secular contexts, such as former Communist countries. But getting people to come in the front door is not as big of a challenge as connecting in deep, meaningful, and life-transforming ways. Many newcomers don’t last.

Paas says Christians should focus more on contextualizing, trying new things, and training pastors to build real relationships. While Davis and others argue ambition is necessary to mobilize people to evangelize the world, church plants in Europe succeed through experimentation and creativity, according to Paas.

“Experimental spaces and fresh expressions are much more important than traditional church plants,” he said. “Innovation is much more important than growth-driven entrepreneurship.”

One church doing this is in Eisenach, a small town with about 42,000 inhabitants in the eastern German state of Thuringia. Eisenach has historical ties to the Protestant Reformation—Martin Luther and Johann Sebastian Bach both lived there, though at different times—but today about 70 percent of the population has no religious affiliation. They are, as the Germans say, konfessionslos (“without confession”).

“Belief is just not a thing here,” said pastor Cordula Lindörfer. “When Eisenachers are in trouble, or in crisis, they don’t think of God or the church. They never look to the supernatural. They just don’t see it as relevant.”

That can make planting a church rather tricky. So Lindörfer and her team, with the support of the Association of Free Evangelical Churches, decided not to start with a Gottesdienst (church service) but to focus first on three other G’s: gemeinschaft, geniessen, and gestatten—community, enjoyment, and permission.

At StartUp Church, their plant in Eisenach, the team invites community members to monthly brunches to discuss topics like whether “justice for all” is a utopian pipe dream or something that could be achieved. The church’s first event, back in 2020, was at a pub. They advertised it as a meetup to “discuss doubts, beliefs, talk about God and the world.”

Today, StartUp has a weekly gathering at a local bar named Cat’s Leap, and families socialize at a local park. 

At one recent gathering, people explored the different possible perspectives in the story Jesus told about workers in a vineyard all getting paid the same, even though they worked different amounts (Matt. 20:1–16). 

Lindörfer said most of the people who come to StartUp are between 30 and 40 years old. Her own job is less that of a typical pastor—she doesn’t do a lot of preaching and teaching—and more moderator and convener.

“Eisenachers are all ready for a conversation; they all have opinions and ideas,” she said. “For me it’s all about creating a space where they feel welcome, where people come to connect rather than compete.” 

Paas thinks this is probably the real future of church growth in secular Europe. Success will have less to do with big goals and more to do with the difficult ones, and it will focus on the daily work of making friends, building connections, showing people God’s love, and inviting them to imagine that Christian faith could be relevant to their lives. 

Anyone who thinks that church planting in Europe is going to be quick and easy should probably stay home, Paas told CT. “Otherwise, you’ll get disappointed; you may even lose your faith,” he said. 

Paas hasn’t lost his. 

When he surveys the mission work taking place across the continent, he finds hope in the promise, as Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 1:18–31, that God uses foolish things to accomplish divine purposes. 

“I know this is God’s work,” he said. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.” 

Church Plant Struggles to Take Root in Liechtenstein

Driving south on European route 43, you might notice there are only five exits for the country of Liechtenstein. Or you might not notice, given how quickly the 24-kilometer-long German-speaking monarchy flies by. 

Sandwiched between Austria and Switzerland and surrounded by the Alps, Liechtenstein is one of the world’s smallest nations. It is also one of the richest. Liechtenstein’s gross domestic product is a staggering $197,000 per person. That’s more than twice the economic value produced in the United States every year and more than three times the value produced by Germany, which is considered Europe’s “economic powerhouse.”

So most people, if they think about Liechtenstein at all, don’t think of it as a mission field.

But most people are wrong, according to the father-son pastor team Paul and Mike Clark. Since June 2022, the Clarks have been trying to plant a church in Liechtenstein. 

“Here there is just as much need for the gospel as elsewhere,” son Mike Clark, 44, told CT on a walk through the capital of Vaduz, a town of about 6,000 people located down from the castle where the monarch, Prince Hans-Adam II, lives with his family.

About 70 percent of the 40,000 people are Roman Catholic. There are some small minorities of other religious groups—8 percent of the country identifies as Reformed Protestant and 6 percent as Muslim—but most people are counted as Catholic. 

“Don’t let the official statistics fool you,” Mike Clark said. “Only about 10 percent of these people are in church on any given Sunday.”

Convincing Liechtensteiners to consider going to church—and to an evangelical church at that—has proved to be quite challenging in a country defined by private capital and established Catholicism. Few people seem interested in conversations about faith. Few seem to feel they have spiritual needs. The idea of something different than nominal Catholicism is very foreign to them.

“We’ve tried just about everything to connect with people,” said Paul Clark, a 72-year-old American who has spent decades in Europe. “Setting up an informational table in Vaduz’s city center. Starting a gospel choir. And now launching an Alpha course in the summer,” which teaches the basics of Christianity.

The gospel choir was popular, but no one came back to the church to visit. Getting permits from city hall for the Alpha course demanded lots of time and energy, but the classes weren’t especially popular.

Maybe it will turn out that people are just not that interested in church. Currently, there are actually more casinos (seven) in Liechtenstein than non-Catholic congregations (five). There are only two evangelical churches: Free Evangelical Church in Schaan and Life Church Liechtenstein in Eschen, where the Clarks minister to a small group of people and dream of reaching many, many more. 

Life Church meets once a month in an office park on the outskirts of town. The church’s setup is simple: a few rows of plastic chairs, a drop-down screen with a background image of the Alps, a smattering of tabletops in the back, and a mix of homemade cakes and store-bought chips and guacamole for visitors to snack on. 

Paul Clark leads worship on acoustic guitar alongside a young man from Brazil playing cajon. One Sunday, about 25 people came to the 4 p.m. service. Most were from partner churches in eastern Switzerland and western Austria. They sang “10,000 Reasons” and “Goodness of God” in German. Paul reminded them what the church plant is all about. Quoting the German lyrics of “Shine Jesus Shine,” he prayed that Jesus would shine the light of his Father’s glory on Liechtenstein.

If numbers remain low, they might close by the end of 2024.

“In my experience, if a church isn’t gaining traction in the first couple of years, it won’t ever,” Paul Clark said. 

Luigi Olivadoti
Church plants in Germany, Liechtenstein, and Switzerland show the challenges—and opportunities—for evangelicals in Europe.

He knows what he’s talking about. Paul Clark first came to Europe from Michigan in the 1970s with Teen Challenge. He met his wife, Mechthild, who was also working with Teen Challenge, in West Germany. In the past 50 years, the couple has helped establish six European churches in collaboration with the Association of Free Church Pentecostals. They’re in the German states of Saarland, Rhineland-Palatinate, and Thuringia.

Mike Clark followed in his parents’ footsteps and has helped start ministries in Missouri, the United Arab Emirates, and Oman. 

Both the Clarks, however, say Liechtenstein may be the toughest place they’ve ever tried to tell people about Jesus. Planting a church has been harder here than anywhere else they’ve experienced.

“There’s a cost for following Christ here,” Mike Clark said. “It’s not your life, but it is a certain loss of anonymity and the social pressure that comes with saying, ‘I follow Jesus.’ ” 

But the father-son pair remain resolute. They believe—or maybe hope is a better word—that some hungry souls have questions about faith that they can’t explore in the context of the Catholic church. They want people in Liechtenstein to have a local evangelical option. Today, many would have to go out of the country for that.

In fact, the original idea for the plant emerged when visitors from Liechtenstein came to the Clarks’ more established church, FCG Bregenz (Free Christian Church Bregenz) in Austria. Similar to Life Church, FCG Bregenz operates out of an office park. It’s located in a former textile factory area on the shores of Lake Constance, in a building with a modern, postindustrial feel.

Heading over to Austria, as boundaries between some of the richest nations flitted by, Mike Clark noted, “Borders are no big deal when it comes to commerce in this part of the world.”

He added, “People shouldn’t have to cross borders to come to Christ.”

FCG Bregenz is very international, though, as are many evangelical churches in Europe. Austrians attend services, but so do people from Germany, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein, as well as expats from Kenya, Syria, and the United States.

Mike Clark himself grew up in Germany; studied theology in the US; earned a doctorate in law in the Netherlands; and, with his wife, Laura, spent 15 years in church emergency and development aid work before feeling the call to plant a church in Austria and then another in Liechtenstein. 

The Clarks founded FCG Bregenz in 2016. Mike Clark, who was ordained in a Pentecostal church in 2004, has led it since 2020. 

He brings all of that experience to ministry and his cross-cultural identity comes through when he preaches. When he pops on stage, worshipers might think they are at church in the US. With his beard, skinny jeans, gray sweater, white tennis shoes, and iPad, “Pastor Mike” looks the part of a hip megachurch pastor. But then he starts preaching in excellent German. 

About 60 people attend his Austrian church on a given Sunday, and about that many watch online. According to Mike Clark, FCG Bregenz is one of several churches planted in the westernmost Austrian state of Vorarlberg in the past 10 years. Most of the churches in the network have fewer than 50 worshipers every Sunday, which makes FCG Bregenz a leader. The church has become a training ground for church planters looking to evangelize more Europeans.

Evert van de Poll, a Dutch missiologist, said Europe presents a particular challenge for evangelism. The weight of a cultural Christian heritage and a century of secularization means few people are seeking out churches. 

New forms of individualized spirituality can be quite popular, but that rarely translates into curiosity about spiritual experiences at an evangelical church.

Van de Poll said he has seen evangelicals successfully reach out to migrants and refugees in Europe. And some churches—in Great Britain, France, Germany, Austria, and even rich little Liechtenstein—are trying a more seeker-sensitive model, with contemporary worship, relevant preaching, and a message that the gospel matters today. 

But what works on one side of a European border, Van de Poll said, doesn’t necessarily work on the other. 

“You’d think that the basic principles are the same, but borders matter,” he said. “Pastors and missionaries need to appreciate Europe’s diversity and the dividing lines between different states; cultures; and their varying degrees of Protestant, Catholic, or secular influence.”

This may be the lesson the Clarks learn from Life Church in Liechtenstein. Despite their success in Austria and their varied international experience, nothing seems to be taking root in the affluent topology of Europe’s smallest German-speaking state.

Maybe next year, if the church can string things together that long, a few shoots of life will appear in
the soil.

But maybe not.

“If nothing comes from our efforts … we are probably going to close up shop,” Paul Clark said. “But God called us here, we know that.” 

Evangelicals Flourish in One Town in Switzerland

For a small town, Buchs has a surprising number of churches. The municipality on the eastern edge of Switzerland has a Roman Catholic community, of course, and a Swiss Protestant congregation, but it also has an Evangelical Alliance church, a Free Evangelical Church, a New Apostolic Church, an International Christian Fellowship, and the nondenominational GRACE.Church. 

In fact, there is about one evangelical congregation for every 1,000 people, which has earned Buchs the nickname “Canaan on the Rhine,” a promised land for Swiss evangelicals. 

Only about 2 percent of Switzerland identifies as evangelical. But in Buchs, for some reason, about 10 percent of people worship at an evangelical church.

Why is this town different?

The pastors leading churches in Buchs have a few theories. There may not be a sociological explanation, they say—the Holy Spirit works in ways beyond human comprehension. 

“There is something prophetic in this place,” Ben Stolz, pastor of GRACE.Church, told CT while sitting in a Buchs café drinking a cappuccino. “The town has a deep spiritual background.”

Ulrich Zwingli, the 16th-century Reformer, was born just outside of Buchs. The farmhouse where he was raised still serves as a place of pilgrimage and spiritual reflection.

More recently, the charismatic preacher Leo Bigger was born in Buchs. Raised a Catholic, he was a disco promoter and had his own rock band before becoming an evangelical and rising in the leadership of the International Christian Fellowship (ICF). Today he’s the pastor of the largest Protestant congregation in Switzerland, ICF Zurich, and the fellowship has grown to about 60 congregations in 13 countries. One of them is in Buchs, of course, led by wife-and-husband team Sarah and Werner Eggenberger.

Stolz’s church attracts about 150 people on an average Sunday, with another 30 or so checking in online. The nondenominational congregation is one of the largest in the city and is known for contemporary worship, a relaxed atmosphere, and topical sermons.

Stolz, who grew up in Buchs, describes it as a “modern,” “living” church. He dreams that one day Europe could be “dotted with vibrant, healthy communities” like GRACE.Church, “where people come to know Jesus Christ, experience healing, and thrive through their growing knowledge of the love and grace of our wonderful God.”

Some people, he knows, find that vision upsetting and even offensive. Several years ago, the Catholic theologian Günther Boss, just across the border in Liechtenstein, used GRACE.Church as an example of what was wrong with modern Christianity. He said its theology was thin, its sermons “repulsive,” and it was simultaneously too modern and too old-fashioned. 

“In their form they are very jazzed up, youthful,” Boss told the Liechtensteiner Vaterland, one of the country’s two daily newspapers. “But in their content they are reactionary and have very narrow moral ideas.”

Such criticisms are not uncommon in Europe. Free churches—those that operate without state-granted privileges—are often stigmatized as strange, antisocial sects. In Buchs, however, there are enough evangelicals that most people know one, and here attacks carry less weight than they might elsewhere. 

“We go to each other’s weddings, attend one another’s funerals, celebrate births and baptisms together,” Martin Frey, the pastor of an official, authorized Swiss Protestant church, told CT. “This helps educate people about the free churches and makes the ‘sect’ image seem outdated.” 

Frey considers Stolz a friend and likes to drink coffee with him at the café. He works with other evangelical pastors in town too. They have theological differences, of course, but he knows them, relates to them, and can see how invested they are in meeting Swiss residents’ spiritual needs. 

People in Buchs find something in an evangelical church, according to Frey, that they can’t find in more mainstream religious communities.

“To raise hands, to stand and sing, to proclaim in tongues is very, very far away from the typical Swiss mentality,” Frey said. “The Swiss tend to hold back.”

Yet some people in Buchs feel they’ve connected with God and other Christians only when they stop holding back—overcoming or at least overlooking their own instinctual restraint. 

Olivier Favre, a Reformed Baptist pastor and sociologist who coedited Phänomen Freikirchen (Free Church Phenomenon), argues this is the key to evangelicals’ success. They understand human needs. They show people how to connect to each other and have a relationship with the divine. 

“In our very individualized society, where many are alone, the idea of a personal relationship with God, belief that he answers prayers, that he can heal the sick and effect miracles, meets a spiritual need,” Favre writes.

In this way, of course, Buchs is no different than other European countries. The town may have a unique history, a sense of spirituality, and enough evangelicals that they’re not seen as odd and marginal as they are in other places. But still, people are people. Europe is Europe. And efforts to evangelize are all pretty similar. 

At a recent vision Sunday at GRACE.Church, Stolz laid out a plan to grow the church. The formula is friendship and faithful Christian witness, he told CT. He hopes this will soon lead to the construction of a new building in which to worship, making one of the many churches in Buchs a little more visible. 

He wants GRACE.Church to be like a light to people in the dark. Or a warm fire for those who are cold.

“People are lonely,” Stolz said, “and the churches here in Buchs are here to help build connections.” 

Ken Chitwood is CT’s European correspondent.

Ideas

Against the Culture of Demonization

President & CEO

The problem is not when the Christian is in the conflict—it’s when the conflict is in the Christian.

A painting of Jesus chipping.
Christianity Today September 12, 2024
MidJourney / Christianity Today

I grew up in a small evangelical church in California’s Central Valley where there were more blue collars than white. About 25 families filed into the pews each Sunday; they were loving, generous, and thoughtful. We camped the Sierra Nevadas, backpacked Yosemite, and set crab traps in Half Moon Bay. We studied the Word, shared meals when misfortune struck, and made more after-church trips to Taco Bell than any human being should be able to withstand. It was evangelicalism of the sunny California variety that wore its conservatism with T-shirts and surfer shorts and a breezy, convivial disposition. 

When I think about that church, imperfect though it was, I am immensely grateful. It inoculated me against the poisonous caricature I would hear so often in the years following—especially in secular universities—that evangelical churches were fortresses of ignorance and prejudice.

When I left academia in 2009, it was partly out of disillusionment. The humanities departments seemed less interested in intellectual inquiry than ideological conformity. I distinctly remember a doctoral seminar where one of my colleagues dismissed the entire history of Christian missions as nothing but rapacious colonialism. There’s much to lament in that history, I agreed, but surely there were some missionaries, some of the time, who had some good intentions? 

As a matter of intellectual honesty, it seemed the least my interlocutor should accept. Instead, she had me hauled in front of the professor for the thought crime of “defending an evil institution.” 

This was only one in a long series of such experiences. Too many lectures felt like recruitment for political programs, too many seminars like competitions for who could be the first to take offense. Advance a thesis that defied the trends sweeping through the humanities departments, and no amount of evidence and argumentation were sufficient; advance a thesis that served a favored cause, and very little evidence and argumentation were necessary. After all, once you have abandoned the concept of a unitary truth, why not choose a story that serves your tribe? Who cares about accuracy when you can deliver “justice”?

So I left academia to help launch a new media enterprise. It’s ironic now to remember the idealism that accompanied the emergence of the blogosphere and social media in those years. The digital landscape was a wide-open expanse where we could reimagine a public conversation that was charitable, informed, and willing to challenge partisan conventions. Perhaps Christians could shape a form of public engagement that simultaneously defended Christian values and exhibited Christlike virtues. Perhaps social media could be what the university should be: an open marketplace of ideas where the best arguments win on the merits.

Over the years that followed, however, new media businesses established financial models that incentivized the worst in human behavior. The road to wealth and influence led through virality, and the surest path to virality was to stir up tribal animosities. Technology ethicist Tristan Harris calls it a “race to the bottom of the brain stem.” Affirm your audience’s prejudices and presuppositions, stoke their fears, heap scorn on the other tribe, and you collect a passionate and growing following, which you can monetize through speaking and writing engagements.

Put differently, the quickest way to build a readership was not to establish expertise and credibility over a long career of faithful work, but to achieve viral fame by playing into the tribal antipathies of one group or another. What started as attention harvesting became rage farming.

In the early years of virality culture, the dividing lines cut between large groups of people, such as conservative evangelicals and progressive mainliners. Eventually, it became clear that social media platforms could increase engagement further and deliver more finely targeted advertising (which is to say, make more money), by funneling readers into ever-narrower subcategories. Larger communities of common conviction became divided and subdivided into warring camps; each camp was served by its own information sources and united in shared hostility to those around them. The anger we feel for so-called betrayers of our tribe is far greater than the anger we feel for those who never belonged to our tribe in the first place. 

So we arrive where we are today, where evangelicals are bought and sold in the scorn markets and pitted against one another for profit. Where writers and readers alike are addicted to the dopamine of division. It is like the humanities departments where I once lived and worked.

Everything is reduced to the political. Facts don’t matter if the story serves your tribe. Careers are made not by loving and understanding others but by mocking and mischaracterizing them.

To be clear, Christianity Today has never argued that Christians should withdraw from political life. Although the dead are not raised by politics, the living are served by it.

The problem is not when the Christian is in the conflict. The problem is when the conflict is in the Christian. Our engagement with one another and with society should follow the pattern of Christ and not the culture. 

Christianity Today has never fit neatly into anyone’s political agenda because we are more committed to the kingdom of God than to the interests of any party or country. This frustrates those who would patrol the boundaries of political conformity, but we view it as essential to our calling. And we decline to participate in the outrage cycle.

Our calling is to advance the stories and ideas of the kingdom of God. We tell those stories when they are encouraging and when they are hard. We invite orthodox Christian voices to make their arguments for contrary points of view. We seek to understand and exemplify what it means to follow Jesus in our time. CT is comprised of directors, executives, staff, writers, and readers who hold different political stances. We view this as a strength and not a weakness.

One of the songs we sang in that church in California’s Central Valley was “They Will Know We Are Christians by Our Love.” Experiencing the love of the body of Christ left its mark on my soul. As Jesus said in John 13, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (v. 35). And as he prayed to the Father in John 17, it is because of the unity of the church that “the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (v. 23).

This is a weighty thing. The love we show one another, the unity we show to the world, bears testimony to the divinity of Christ and the reality of the love of God. The Church bears the image of Christ to the world, yet today that image is contentious and fragmented.

The kingdom of God is always confounding the expectations of the world. It takes what the world has turned upside down and inverts them back to their right order. It lifts the humble over the proud, the meek over the mighty, the powerless over the powerful. It is profoundly countercultural.

Perhaps the most countercultural thing Christians can do in this present moment is to refuse to demonize one another. Christians with sound hearts and minds will reach different conclusions on what love requires of them in the upcoming election. Support whom your conscience bids you support. But let your first love be your first love, and let our love for one another be our witness to the world that Christ is alive and at work among us.

Timothy Dalrymple is president and CEO of Christianity Today.

News

Died: Daniel Bourdanné, Millipede Scientist Turned IFES Leader Who Loved Christian Books

The Chadian student ministry leader spent his final years promoting publishing in Africa.

Christianity Today September 12, 2024
International Fellowship of Evangelical Students / Edits by Rick Szuecs

Daniel Bourdanné, a scientist from the central African nation of Chad who inspired young evangelicals around the world as the general secretary of IFES and a longtime champion of Christian book publishing in Africa, died on September 6 at age 64 as a result of cancer. 

After years of ministry to students, Bourdanné became general secretary of IFES (International Fellowship of Evangelical Students) in 2007, serving in this role until 2019. An avid reader (and sometimes writer), from 2018 until his death, Bourdanné worked with Africa Speaks to promote Christian book publishing across the continent.

Bourdanné spent much of his life in Francophone nations including Togo, Cameroon, and Côte d’Ivoire before moving to Oxford, England, when he became IFES general secretary. At the time of his death, he was living in Swindon, England. 

“God sent me into the world from this continent, and he brings me back with the world to this same continent, so that I may complete my role as a missionary of the African church,” Bourdanné said in his farewell speech in South Africa in 2019 at the IFES World Assembly. 

“Daniel was proud to be African,” said Tiémoko Coulibaly, general secretary of the IFES national affiliate in Mali. “Though he lived in the West, his heart remained in Africa, the continent of his birth that he never gave up on.”

The son of a pastor, Bourdanné was born on October 18, 1959, in Pala, Mayo-Kebbi Ouest, Chad. At age 10, he lost his father, whose death forced Bourdanné to begin working in the fields, chopping wood, and raising vegetables for his mother to sell. These responsibilities were compounded by a civil war that lasted from 1965 to 1979 and took the lives of thousands. 

A few months before the war ended, Bourdanné won a scholarship to pursue studies in animal ecology at the Université du Tchad. He then earned a bachelor’s degree in natural science at the Université of Lomé, Togo (formerly Université du Bénin). 

In 1983, Bourdanné moved to Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire to pursue a doctorate in animal ecology. In 1990, he defended his dissertation on millipedes, subsequently becoming a member of the International Society of Myriapodologists. 

As he pursued his education, Bourdanné began working as a high school biology teacher. However, his passion to share the gospel with students had been sparked much earlier. “​​At the age of 14 in a Bible study on Revelation 1, I first grasped the vision and passion to see students saved for the Lord,” he once said.

“Directly or indirectly, universities profoundly influence and guide the future of human societies,” he wrote in an article on student evangelism published in the Dictionnaire de théologie pratique in 2011. “Students are often at the forefront of social change around the world. Indeed, when they move together, fueled by their energy, vitality, determination, passion, imagination, and creativity, they have the power to move society.”

In 1990, Bourdanné began working with IFES as a traveling secretary; he was named regional secretary for IFES Francophone Africa (GBUAF) in 1996.  

When he became general secretary in 2007, succeeding Lindsay Brown who had held the position since 1991, the IFES movement was 60 years old and established in over 150 countries. Still, during his 12-year tenure, the movement grew significantly, especially in the diversity of its leadership. 

Under Bourdanné, IFES gave more space to theologians from the Global South. In 2007, he appointed Christy Jutare of the Philippines as the first female regional secretary of IFES to lead the Eurasia region. In ⁠2011, he appointed the first two student representatives to the IFES board of trustees. In 2016, he revived a global theological and missiological reflection journal (Word and World).

When asked about the highlights of his tenure, Bourdanné stated that they included witnessing God “take the unusual path” when inviting unexpected people to join the walk with him, along with the joy of seeing God opening doors in difficult contexts.

He also noted a key challenge. “We celebrate our unity,” he wrote in his farewell email to the fellowship, “but we are human, so it is not surprising that sometimes someone may try to promote their agenda or preferences. … Having grown up myself in a context of war and tribal conflict, I was perhaps more sensitive to how this could become a threat to IFES unity.”

One of Bourdanné’s greatest passions was to enable the global church to hear from more African Christians. He did so by encouraging them not to follow a unique school of thought but to become prominent voices in the theological field.

“Some of us may side with Billy Graham,” he stated at the same 2019 speech. “Others [align] with John Stott, or with John Piper, and these differences enrich us more than they divide us.” But he added, “Among these three names, there is no African. Nor is there anyone from Latin America or Asia.”

Bourdanné’s love for students was only rivaled by his love of books. The scientist owned hundreds if not thousands of them, carefully housed in three different libraries—one in his home in England, one in his Oxford office, and one at a residence in Côte d’Ivoire.

At one point, Bourdanné’s passion for the written word led him to start a magazine. He and four friends pooled their resources to fund the first issue and invest in the publication. The magazine ran debt-free until the group disbanded, and aside from a one-time $80 donation from missionaries, they never relied on external help.

In 1995, Bourdanné became the director of the Presses bibliques africaines (African Biblical Press). In 2018, he joined the board of Africa Speaks, where he continued to serve until his passing, promoting the growth of the Christian publishing industry in Africa by encouraging African Christian writers to write and publish and by promoting their books. 

Bourdanné believed that for African Christians, books could be catalysts for transformation. “Africa will not experience its publishing revolution until we win the battle for the love of books,” he wrote. In turn, this passion would “contaminate” Africa positively from the inside, he asserted, his metaphor inspired by Jesus’ words in Mark 7 that what contaminates (or defiles) a person comes from the inside out. 

Bourdanné firmly believed that Africa needed to equip itself for its own progress, which required, in his view, a shift in mentality accompanied by fruitful collaborations with the West.

“What is the use of Africa’s Sunday fervor if the demons of corruption, conflict, and genocide resurface on Monday?” Bourdanné preached in Geneva in 2006 to an audience of primarily European evangelical leaders. “What is the point of our worship and prayers in Europe if our lives are still driven by the pursuit of maximum profit and if our churches remain divided?” 

He called on European Christians to fight for change: “Our actions speak louder than our words. Victims of injustice must see the commitment of Western Christians in this area.”

Though he was more involved in promoting Christian literature in Africa than in writing it himself, he authored Ces évangéliques d’Afrique, qui sont-ils? (Who Are African Evangelicals? 1998), and L’Évangile de la prospérité, une menace pour l’Église en Afrique (The Prosperity Gospel, a Menace to the African Church, 1999), among others.

In 2018, Calvin University awarded him the Abraham Kuyper Prize for Excellence in Reformed Theology and Public Life, noting his work in Francophone Christian publishing and his ministry with IFES. 

“A quarter-century ago, Daniel saw a need for Christian students to have guidance, from a Christian worldview, on a variety of topics that were of great concern to them, and so he took action,” said Jul Medenblik, president of Calvin Theological Seminary. 

Timothée Joset, a missiology professor at the Faculté libre de théologie évangélique (FLTE) in France and member of IFES Global Resource Ministries, said his friend Bourdanné introduced him to the complex issues facing Francophone Africa and global North-South relations.

“What also impressed me was his resilience. He was never resentful, even though he experienced a great deal of racism,” Joset said, noting an example so egregious that theologian N.T. Wright even mentioned it in an Easter sermon. 

After IFES hired him as general secretary, “the British High Commission in Accra dragged its feet over Daniel’s application to come here, and then turned it down with minimal explanation,” said Wright. “Daniel then asked for permission to travel to the UK on his current visitor’s visa, and was told he could. But when he arrived he was detained for 22 hours, his mobile phones were seized, and he was flown back to Africa.” 

Despite these incidents, Bourdanné inspired his peers through his consideration and humility. One of his students remembered fondly how Bourdanné personally sent him books, after the English postal system kept confusing his address with one in another country. Another international colleague recalled how he preferred sitting on the floor during conferences, to allow others to have a chair.

This modesty never kept Bourdanné from challenging his fellow Christians on issues he cared deeply about, such as evangelism. He served the Lausanne Movement as International Deputy Director for French-speaking Africa (21 countries), leading up to Lausanne’s 2010 conference in Cape Town, South Africa. When he left that position, he was appointed to the Lausanne Movement’s board.

“Can we be credible while proclaiming a gospel that ignores the exploitation of the weak by the strong? Can we continue to care only for the salvation of African souls while turning a blind eye to their social situation?” he asked in 2016. “In what way is the gospel good news for communities struggling to meet their basic needs? How can we remain silent in the face of rising social inequalities in Africa, or environmental issues? Proclamation and action must go hand in hand.”

Daniel Bourdanné leaves behind his wife Halymah, originally from Niger, and their four children.  

Books
Review

Meet the ‘Precocious Atheist’ Still Pining for a Misplaced Faith

Donna Freitas hasn’t found Jesus on the other side of depression and trauma. But her search persists.

Donna Freitas standing in front of a dark background slightly in shadow
Christianity Today September 12, 2024
Christopher Lane / Getty

Donna Freitas’s spiritual autobiography, Wishful Thinking: How I Lost My Faith and Why I Want to Find It, stands in the tradition of the “dark-night-of-the-soul” memoir. But unlike mystics such as St. John of the Cross, who found their way through dark times into the light of faith, Freitas is unsure whether she ever believed in God to begin with.

A successful scholar and author of teen and adult fiction, Freitas was raised in a devout Catholic home in Rhode Island. She writes nostalgically about a childhood surrounded by spiritual memorabilia, such as angel figurines and Virgin Mary statuettes, beloved by her grandmother. Attending mass every Sunday was central to family life, especially for her Italian American mother, whose faith was simple, constant, and enduring.

However, belief didn’t come so easily for Freitas, who began to struggle with doubt from an early age. When an acquaintance described her as a “precocious atheist,” the label stuck. And despite going through the motions of confirmation in the Catholic church, she failed to inherit the devout faith of her mother. She writes with toe-curling embarrassment about her “angry atheist” phase as a young adult, including phone calls from college in which she told her mother that “your God is nothing but another Santa Claus.”

Philosophy to the rescue

As you may already suspect, this is as much a story about Freitas’s relationship with her mother as it is about her search for a relationship with God.

Despite a wealth of academic credentials—her research on the lives of young people has yielded notable books like Sex and the Soul and The Happiness Effect—the story Freitas tells is not primarily an intellectual quest. You won’t find any examination of core apologetics arguments, like attempts to reconcile science and faith or address the problem of evil. Belief in God is simply presented as something you either have or you don’t. And Freitas says she doesn’t have it. But she wishes she did, writing,

I may have lost my faith as a child, misplaced it very young. But I have never stopped searching to find it again because if my mother taught me anything, she instilled the notion that our belief in God is precious.

Freitas movingly describes how any hope of holding on to God seemed to disappear when she entered a period of deep depression in her early 20s. Although the darkness lifted eventually, it would return many times throughout her life. She knows that for many people, faith in God is the only thing that makes sense in the midst of such suffering. But the fact that she felt so alone in her “bottomless abyss” was the final confirmation that there was no divine hand waiting to pull her out.

Instead, something else came to the rescue: philosophy.

Freitas’s joyful discovery of the work of existential philosophers is an enchanting part of the book. She describes the emotional thrill of finding intellectual soulmates in Sartre, Camus, and Heidegger. Their works not only spoke to her frequent encounters with the existential void within but also gave voice to her experience (or lack thereof) of faith. 

The book describes Freitas’s attempts to find peace and wholeness through academia and philosophy, which are both touching and agonizing to read. Time and again, she reminds us how much she longs for the simple faith of her mother, and why it seems to remain tantalizingly out of reach.

The memoir is also instructive in framing how Freitas’s journey has been shaped by the Catholicism she inherited. Aware that her readership will likely contain more evangelicals than Catholics—her publisher, Worthy Books, caters largely to this audience—Freitas devotes a chapter to the wildly different assumptions about Scripture and practice embodied by the two groups.

She contends that evangelicals read their Bibles and examine issues like sex and relationships in ways that are rarely encouraged among lay Catholics. I’m sure there are plenty of exceptions to this rule, but her analysis probably reflects the type of cultural Catholicism that dominates a university like Georgetown, where she studied as an undergraduate.

Ironically, despite her own unfamiliarity with Scripture, Freitas’s love of philosophy led her to pursue a PhD in theology. The avowed atheist found herself studying alongside Catholic ordinands and theologians. This turned out to be both a blessing and a curse in her ongoing search for God.

Tragically, Freitas became the target of an obsessive sexual pursuit by an abusive academic priest. When she reported him to the authorities, she says, the church was only interested in protecting the professor and its institutional reputation. It left her devastated.

Yet much good came out of her theological studies. She discovered the lives and writings of female mystics, such as Julian of Norwich and Teresa of Avila. They struck Freitas as proto-feminists of the medieval age—as torchbearers who dared to approach God in ways that transcended the norms of their era.

Unexpectedly, the nearest thing to evidence for God came as Freitas’s mother was dying from cancer. As she considered the countless acts of kindness shown during and after her mother’s illness, she found herself compelled to revise her opinion of the Catholic church: Institutionally, its record might be deeply flawed, but its local members could still minister great healing and love.

“During those months,” she writes,

When my mother was first receiving treatment, God took the form of sausage and meatballs and big pots of tomato sauce and God was in those sick days offered by my mother’s colleagues. God was in the prayers answered that we didn’t need to utter because the parish community got there first and made it so we didn’t have to pray for those things at all.

Faith in others’ faith

Wishful Thinking is a beautifully written memoir in which the journey is more emotional than theological. This will doubtless result in frustration for some readers, as it leaves the author’s search for God frustratingly unresolved.

Ultimately, however, those female voices from centuries past and the continuing influence of her own mother (and grandmother) helped Freitas to retain some form of Catholic identity, despite having every reason to reject it. As she reflects: “Maybe it seems a little weird to call myself Catholic given how the jury is still out—kind of way, way out—on the belief front for me.”

The closest we get to a final resolution is a moving description of how, despite struggling to find God in church, Freitas now finds that the familiar words, actions, and rituals of the Catholic Mass allow her to connect emotionally with the memory of her mother and grandmother. If she has any belief at all, it is faith in their faith.

This is a personal journey, honestly told. But, as a Christian myself, I wanted to reach through the pages of the book and encourage Freitas to give up searching for the same experience of God that her mother found comfort in. Far better to go to the source, seeking the image of God found in the Jesus of the Gospels.

Perhaps Freitas would tell me that’s the evangelical in me speaking—always fixated on Scripture. But I was struck by how rarely the figure of Christ featured in a book about someone trying to make sense of Christianity. If you want to find God, surely that’s the place to start?

A notable exception comes when Freitas describes a sudden moment of clarity while reading Sartre during her philosophical awakening. The philosopher’s concept of “bad faith” refers to the danger of investing our self-worth in temporal things—careers, relationships, love—that will inevitably let us down.

Freitas acknowledges that, for Christians, Jesus must be the answer to Sartre’s “bad faith” dilemma. But, when plunged into the abyss of depression by relationship breakdowns and traumatic life events, she says she has simply never found Jesus waiting for her:

This is where the difference between a believing Christian and a faith-challenged person like me reveals itself. I plunge into that darkness and wish for someone to carry me to the other side of this hell. But the only way I ever get there is if I somehow find the way out again alone.

For a season, Freitas tried to implement Sartre’s solution—surrendering to the meaninglessness of life and perhaps finding a way to live above the maelstrom of the storm. But she struggled to make it work in practice.

However, I believe Jesus has a better response to nihilism than Sartre. In his famous story about the wise and foolish builders (Matt. 7:24–27), he pointed out how easily life lets us down when we construct it on the shifting sands offered by this world. Instead, he advised his hearers to weatherproof their souls against the storms of life by building on the rock of his own life and teachings.

That may sound like wishful thinking to some people, but it has proven a solid foundation for countless lives and even whole civilizations. I hope that Wishful Thinking (beautifully written as it is) won’t be Freitas’s last word on her search. In my experience, Jesus often surprises those who keep seeking.

Justin Brierley is a writer, broadcaster, and speaker in the UK. He is the author of The Surprising Rebirth of Belief in God: Why New Atheism Grew Old and Secular Thinkers Are Considering Christianity Again.

News

Kenya Greets Kirk Franklin and Maverick City Music with Excitement—and Skepticism

Kirk Franklin and Maverick City Music are popular with Kenyan Christians, but some are increasingly wary of their influence.

Chandler Moore of Maverick City Music and Kirk Franklin perform during the Kingdom Tour.

Christianity Today September 12, 2024
mpi04 / AP Images

In June, Kirk Franklin and Maverick City Music’s Chandler Moore performed with actor and rapper Will Smith at the BET Awards. Smith premiered his single “You Can Make it” on a dark, smoke-filled stage, standing in a circle of fire with a small choir of vocalists in a raised semicircle behind him. The performance incorporated the sound of a gospel choir and solos by Franklin and Moore, but those nods to Christian music seemed to be in service of a message that was only vaguely spiritual, referring to heaven and hell but focused on personal struggle and triumph.

Though the performance boosted the single to No. 3 on Billboard’s Hot Gospel Songs chart, the performance sparked controversy in Africa, where Franklin and Maverick City Music would soon embark on their Kingdom World Tour (KWT). Some Christians there called the performance “satanic.” News outlets in Zimbabwe reported that some of the opening acts— including Annatoria, winner of The Voice UK and a recent Maverick City Music collaborator—had pulled out of the Harare concert. Others called for a boycott, telling fellow Christians to stay away from the tour, which also made stops in Uganda, Zambia, Malawi, Ghana, South Africa, Tanzania, and Kenya.

Few listened.

Before it finished in August, the KWT drew enthusiastic crowds across Africa, filling arenas and selling out its concert at Kenya’s Uhuru Gardens (a 60,000-person venue).

“It will be a moment in my life that I will never forget,” Franklin said in an interview. “To travel to many countries at one time and to feel the Black experience on this continent and on this planet, and to be reminded how unified we are as Black people—we are just separated by water. We are never separated by spirit.”

Though its overall commercial effect seemed minimal, Franklin and Moore’s BET performance prompted some soul-searching among African Christians about their relationship with American artists, even among those who attended the concert.

Daniel Shirima, a Kenyan emcee and event organizer, said that even as part of the crowd, he was preoccupied with the backlash.

“Many Kenyan Christians, including myself, feel blessed by their songs … but compared to the warm reception of past artists, this felt different,” Shirima told CT. “Some are questioning Kirk Franklin’s walk with God, influencing others not to attend or to feel skeptical.”

The KWT was Maverick City Music’s first performance in Kenya. The group had risen in popularity in the country during the 2020 pandemic, and songs like “Jireh” and “Bless Me” have become some congregations’ favorite worship songs.

Franklin has been popular with Kenyan Christians for over two decades and has performed in the country twice—in 2007 and 2011. Franklin’s 1998 album The Nu Nation Project achieved international success, going double platinum and selling over 3 million copies worldwide. For many Kenyan fans, that album was their introduction to Franklin’s music, and he has remained popular in the country, building a multigenerational audience with his eclectic blend of gospel, R & B, and rap.

The veteran Christian artist has faced increased scrutiny from American and African audiences in recent years in response to videos of suggestive dancing and rap lyrics that some perceive as irreverent or blasphemous. Kenyan gospel artist Jefro Katai said that a 2022 performance in which Franklin rapped the line “the Lion and the Lamb will bow down to the GOAT” (referring to the acronym for “greatest of all time”) gave listeners pause; some heard it as a sacrilegious suggestion that Jesus would pay homage to an artist.

“We are familiar with the teachings of Christ as the Lamb, and we are also called to be sheep,” said Katai. “I think many Christians heard that rap on a surface level and frowned on Kirk.” 

The global reach of the American Christian music industry has meant that the public personas of its artists are up for global discussion. Katai said that African Christians have always had to evaluate the influence of American artists and negotiate which differences to accept as cultural rather than moral.

“American artists can have some tattoos and piercings, for example,” he said. “And some of them are liberal in their politics,” pointing out that some conservative Kenyans objected to Franklin’s willingness to appear publicly with liberal American politicians like Vice President Kamala Harris.

However, Katai said, most Kenyan Christians historically have been willing to overlook those differences when an artist’s music seems to be serving the global church. In Shirima’s view, music from the US has served and will continue to serve the African church.

“Africans are generally very supportive of artists whose songs minister to them,” Shirima said. “We’ve seen this with artists like Don Moen and CeCe Winans, whose songs are sung in our churches. We truly appreciate their talents and giftings.”

Kenyan Christians generally listen to an array of music from Nigeria, South Africa, and the US, in large part because of the production quality and because their local industry isn’t big enough to support full-time recording artists.

“That one can be a gospel artist as a profession [in the US] is quite encouraging. But the reality in Africa is that one also needs a second job to make it in gospel. I sense things are changing, but most Christians are still dealing with bread-and-butter issues,” said Kiarie Mwenda, a management consultant and a longtime fan of Kirk Franklin.

For some, the gap between the lived realities of African Christians and American Christian performing artists is a cause for concern. Some suspect that in addition to an imbalance in economic power between African audiences and American artists, there are competing worldviews.

Olivia Kibui, a recent graduate from Daystar University, is convinced that the interests of American Christian artists can’t be neatly separated from the global political and economic landscape.

“Any media from the US always has an agenda. Always. It is never just what you see. And all their machinery is usually involved,” said Kibui. She also insists that American Christian media is partly to blame for the surging interest in New Age and alternative spirituality.

“These tours have more to do with the ideals and ideas of men than God,” she said. “Kenyans since the ’90s have been followers of US evangelical ideas. Generally, American Christianity is very shallow.”

Not all Kenyan Christians are as pessimistic about the influence of American Christian media. Eva Ishengoma, a Tanzanian businesswoman now living in Nairobi, says that Kenyans value the music of Don Moen, Kirk Franklin, and Maverick City Music because it’s good music.

“Kenyans warmly welcome Christian musicians that come from the US. When secular musicians come, they are received well, so long as Kenyans love their music,” she says. “Africans are receptive to artists from the US as long as their songs are hits.”

In recent years, Christian artists like Travis Greene, Todd Dulaney, William McDowell, Lecrae, Andy Mineo, KB, and Trip Lee have performed in Kenya for enthusiastic crowds. The only recent example of strong opposition or backlash to a Christian figure from the US was to charismatic evangelist Benny Hinn when he visited earlier this year.

Although some opening acts dropped out of the Harare concert, the performance in Nairobi went as planned, with Zambian artist Pompi opening the show and performances by Malawian musician Jeremiah Chikhwaza and Bethuel Lasoi, a songwriter and worship leader at Nairobi’s International Christian Centre. The tour wrapped up in the UK at the end of August with a performance at London’s Wembley Arena.

The mixed response of African audiences to Maverick City Music and Kirk Franklin may be a harbinger of intensifying scrutiny American Christian musicians who seek to cultivate a global audience. As American artists leverage social media and translation to reach Christians around the world, their personas, affiliations, and politics are increasingly visible, and perhaps increasingly alienating.

And yet, the music of Kirk Franklin and Maverick City Music has played a significant role in the faith journeys of many Africans, who have forged strong personal connections with the songs themselves and the musicians who wrote or performed them. For some, it seems unfair to brush aside the artists and music that have ministered to them so powerfully.

“On a personal level, the life and music of Kirk has kept me sober,” said Mwenda, reflecting on his decades spent listening to Franklin’s music. “And Maverick City got me through the COVID season.”

Culture

The Squandering of ‘God’s Not Dead’

The 10-year-old franchise is right that Christians face challenges. But its latest installment, ‘In God We Trust,’ is another disappointment.

The Squandering of ‘God’s Not Dead’

David A. R. White as Reverend David Hill in God's Not Dead: In God We Trust

Christianity Today September 12, 2024
©2024 Copyright Pinnacle Peak Pictures

A decade ago, Barack Obama was president. Louis C. K. was hosting Saturday Night Live. And the first film in the God’s Not Dead franchise was in theaters.

You may know the concept: A college student stands up to an atheist philosophy professor who’s trying to bully his class into denying God. The two engage in several debates; the student successfully defends God’s existence. The professor ends up turning his life over to Jesus before he’s hit by a car and killed.

The movie was a massive box office hit, earning over $60 million on a budget of just $2 million. It’s not hard to understand why. Though much has changed in ten years, evangelicals then as well as now were reckoning with the prospect of an increasingly post-Christian United States. The rise of the religious “nones” had begun. Conservative Christians who felt that pop culture portrayed their views as stupid or evil—see The Simpsons, South Park, The Daily Show—finally got to see one of their own play the hero, trouncing a Richard Dawkins–like adversary. (And saving his soul too.)

But God’s Not Dead also met with criticism from Christians and non-Christians alike; it became the poster child for what’s wrong with faith-based films. Viewers mocked the movie for its bad acting and poor writing, and they condemned it for its dumbed-down arguments about God’s existence and its caricatures of atheist villains.

Alissa Wilkinson, film critic for The New York Times (also a former critic at Christianity Today and my professor at the late King’s College) has commented extensively on the failures of God’s Not Dead. “It’s always been easy to poke holes in the movie’s fast-and-loose relationship with reality and its essential fantasy of persecution,” she wrote for Vox in 2019.

“The film heralded a future,” she continued, “one that has since arrived, where culture is fully bifurcated—where the streaming services you subscribe to can double as markers of identity, and where selecting the inspirational Christian option means making a proclamation about your politics.”

That future has indeed arrived—and so have more God’s Not Dead movies. In God’s Not Dead 2 (2016), a teacher fights for her right to talk about Jesus in the classroom; a law is passed requiring pastors to submit their sermons for government review. In God’s Not Dead: We the People (2021), government atheists attempt to ban homeschooling.

And now, one more: God’s Not Dead: In God We Trust premieres in theaters on September 12. In this iteration, the government will no longer fund a women’s shelter because a Bible study is held on its premises. Reverend Dave, whose church supports the shelter, is persuaded to run for office so he can allocate money appropriately. At the movie’s end, onscreen text tells audiences to “vote.” God’s Not Dead has come full circle—from the relatively small stakes of a classroom and a passing grade to a call for Christians to grasp political power.

If it’s not already obvious, I’m no fan of the God’s Not Dead movies. But that’s not because I dismiss the concerns that motivate them.

There’s some potential in the In God We Trust story. Reverend Dave’s dynamic with his reluctant political strategist, Lottie Jay, is a classic Mr. Smith Goes to Washington setup. One scene, in which Lottie advises her candidate before a talk show appearance and he interrupts her to pray, got a genuine laugh out of me.

Imagine a well-made, Aaron Sorkin–esque, legal-political drama from the perspective of the Religious Right. Such a film might pose questions like: What does it look like to have Christian convictions in a pluralistic, secularizing nation? How do Christians in positions of authority bravely speak scriptural truth while also loving their neighbors well? These questions are far from irrelevant for evangelicals like me.

But God’s Not Dead: In God We Trust squanders any opportunity it might have to weigh in on them. Characters don’t dialogue with each other so much as trade ham-fisted buzzwords. The acting ranges from wooden to wildly over the top. The religious and political arguments are lazy and surface level.

And crucially, reality is distorted. The bad guys are motivated by a shallow hatred of religion as something that stands in the way of personal power. The media and government are so universally anti-Christian that even in a state like Arkansas, cynical Lottie tells Reverend Dave to stop discussing his faith.

These distortions matter. Embracing a caricature of your opponents’ views makes you ineffectual at both loving them and addressing their real concerns. On the flip side, thinking that any politician who speaks about God publicly must be honest makes you vulnerable to charlatans. Insisting that Christians on “our side” won’t be seduced by political power makes us less watchful.

It’s not that Christian claims of marginalization are wholly wrong. It’s that marginalization hasn’t happened in the way that God’s Not Dead warned it would. The original film implied that sending kids to college would endanger their faith—though actually, the college educated are among the most likely to attend church. The US government has not stripped Christians of their rights; in fact, in recent years, the Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled in favor of religious liberty. (Though what constitutes free exercise is far from settled; see Bethany Christian Services’s recent suit against Michigan.)

Instead of facing outright persecution for being Christians, Christian marginalization is happening around particular social issues as our culture increasingly demands conformity on gender, sexuality, and abortion. Most US evangelicals aren’t suing the government or giving apologetics-laden speeches to defend the Incarnation; we aren’t being imprisoned for being caught with Bibles.

But many US evangelicals are facing pressure—in workplaces, schools, and other organizations—to either quietly go along with norms that are now increasingly taken for granted or else face accusations of bigotry. And as this cultural pressure increases, so too is legal or policy pressure for pro-life activists or parents who hold traditional views on gender.

It’s far simpler to wail about “Christian persecution” than to deal thoughtfully and faithfully with this reality. The problem with “simpler” is it doesn’t actually help Christians navigate their world. Perhaps that’s why God’s Not Dead has largely dropped out of mainstream relevance. Its last two movies were both distributed as Fathom Events (an alternative to a traditional release), and hardly any reviewers covered them.

There’s one exception to the rule of this franchise: God’s Not Dead: A Light in Darkness (2018). Reverend Dave works with his atheist brother to fight his church’s removal from school property but eventually realizes that his efforts are only contributing to hate and division on campus. He gives up the cause, even though he’s winning, and apologizes to everyone.

The movie is well written. It’s well acted. It portrays atheists sympathetically and gives them a chance to verbalize their legitimate grievances against Christians. In fact, you could argue that it went too far in the other direction, acting like any criticism believers faced was always their own fault.

What happened to the movie? Nobody liked it; it made only $7 million at the box office. And critics, both Christians and non-Christians, panned it. As Wilkinson put it, “In the end, this God’s Not Dead installment is just like the others: putting on a pious face but failing to imagine what real sacrifice might look like.”

I found most criticisms of the film to be “straining at gnats.” Giving up power is heroic, even if you wish someone gave up more. A Light in Darkness showed a willingness for Christians to start a dialogue, to apologize, to put down their defenses and listen. It began to make a case for the Christian way of doing things, with peacefulness and humility.

Ten years after its inception, it’s hard not to see the God’s Not Dead franchise as a wasted opportunity. The movies emerged at a time when Christians needed a way to wrestle with our decline in numbers and cultural influence. We needed stories about how to stand up for ourselves in the world as it really is without becoming what we’re fighting against. We still need those stories. Here’s to praying that in the next ten years, other storytellers come along who can do better.

Joseph Holmes is a Christian culture critic and host of the podcast The Overthinkers.

Theology

Will Your Presidential Vote Send You to Hell?

Decisions made on Election Day have implications for Judgment Day. But let’s not confuse one day for the other.

Christianity Today September 11, 2024
Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: Getty / Unsplash

This piece was adapted from Russell Moore’s newsletter. Subscribe here.

Since by nature of my work I’ve had to weigh in on a lot of controversial issues over the years, I’ve been cussed out a time or two. Sometimes, I’ve been yelled at with, “God damn you!” When an unbeliever says that, it’s one thing. Christians, though, mean it literally.

A family I know and love was rattled recently to get a note from someone they considered a longtime friend suggesting that the family was going to hell. The cause for the impending brimstone was not that the family denied the faith, embraced some heresy, or adopted some unrepentant life of immorality. At issue was that the family did not support a presidential candidate.

The note-sender put in all the provisions of “I’m only saying this because I love you,” which works for cruelty the same way “This doesn’t actually count as sex” works for people who want to sleep with each other without giving up their purity rings. Adding a “bless your heart” to the “God damn you” doesn’t really change it that much.

This sort of situation comes to me at least once a week these days and, in some ways, it’s jarringly new in our history. I can’t think of churches splitting over whether Dwight Eisenhower or Adlai Stevenson should sit in the Oval Office, for example. I can’t imagine family members refusing to speak to one another over who voted for Jimmy Carter and who for Gerald Ford. That has changed over the past decade or so, and some of us aren’t used to it yet. I pray we never will be.

Much of this has to do with larger divisions in American life—the polarization of the populace, the tribalization of the parties, the trivialization of politics itself. And some of it has to do with changes in the American church.

A market-driven religion seeks to appeal to “felt needs” and especially to what drives the passions of the people to whom it wants to appeal. When the concern is what happens after death or how to be forgiven of guilt, a market-driven religion emphasizes those things.

And when the market secularizes to caring more about how to thrive in the workforce or how to spice up a marriage, a market-driven religion will reflect that. When the market further secularizes to the point that what people want is “red meat” about why their political or ethnic or racial “enemies” are bad, a market-driven religion can do that too. And it has.

That’s why we end up with an American religion in which people can gladly partner with prosperity gospel teachers who would be thrown out of a Billy Sunday crusade, not to mention the Council of Nicaea. These same people simultaneously denounce as maybe-not-even-regenerate those who are orthodox on every article of the faith but who won’t violate their consciences on supporting political causes or candidates they believe to be wrong.

In a politicized, secularized American Christianity, some seem to think that the apostle’s admonition to make your calling and election sure (2 Pet. 1:10) has to do with posting the right pop-political opinions on social media.

We live in a time when religious experience has grown cold and dead, and political affiliation feels alive and invigorating. Plus, it’s easy. Trolling your neighbors on social media for their politics may cost you some self-respect, but you can budget for that.

On the other hand, bearing witness to Christ and persuading your neighbors to give their lives to him requires something of you. Modeling Christ in word and life for your Haitian immigrant neighbors fleeing violence and poverty will require you to interrupt your life and comfort. Reposting memes falsely accusing them of eating household pets—because somebody’s cousin’s friend from high school said they did—takes only a few seconds.

While this might feel new to many of us, we should recognize that it’s rooted in something very old: an Americanized version of one of the earliest heresies in the church.

Much of the New Testament, especially Paul’s letters to the churches in Rome and Galatia, addresses a dispute about what it means to follow Christ and to be united to him in faith. Those the apostles pronounced to be false teachers suggested that the Gentiles seeking to follow Christ must first become Jews, with the marks of circumcision and the observance of diets and days. Concerning the teachers who insisted on circumcision for these Gentiles, Paul wrote to the Galatians, “To them we did not yield in submission even for a moment so that the truth of the gospel might be preserved for you” (2:5, ESV throughout).

For the apostle, those who added to the gospel were not thereby practicing addition but subtraction. A gospel of “Christ and” is another gospel altogether (1:6). Paul speaks of those who wish to add additional entrance requirements to the gospel of Christ crucified and resurrected as “anathema,” as those who should be cursed (vv. 8–9). If one is united to Christ, the old categories are broken down, and people who ordinarily wouldn’t be united together—Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, zealot and tax collector—find themselves in this mystery where the only defining category is Christ and Christ alone (Col. 3:11).

The gospel, of course, works itself out in life—both in terms of how we live our lives personally and how we live our lives together, socially, culturally, and politically.

People can be committed, though, to the same goals of justice but differ as to how to get to them. The Bible mandates care for the poor. On some matters, the application is explicit and clear-cut: One should not exploit the pay of one’s laborers, for instance (James 5:1–6). On other matters, believers may disagree on exactly which public policies benefit the poor and what unintended consequences might actually hurt them. Somebody on that will likely be wrong. That’s why we have debate and moral persuasion.

Some Christians believe the pro-life vision of care for the unborn always requires voting for the Republican ticket, no matter what. Others believe the pro-life vision is harmed long-term by tying it to sexual anarchy, misogyny, contempt for the vulnerable, and mob violence. Some believe their consciences require them to vote for a candidate with whom they disagree, even on major issues, but who will respect the rule of law and the constitutional order. Others don’t believe they can vote for either candidate in good conscience.

As you know, I have very strong views on the presidential election. I have and will continue to make those views known. To do otherwise would be to violate my own conscience, and my own sense of what it means to love my country. Some people disagree with me—even up to half the country. I do not believe those viewpoints are morally or rationally equal, of course, or I wouldn’t hold the views I do.

That doesn’t mean, though, that I think that those who disagree with me are, by definition, not Christians. To do so would be to add to the requirement of faith in Christ a commitment to see the political and cultural stakes of the moment the way I do. That would be veering close to the Galatian heresy. And that, the Bible says, really does endanger our souls.

We have the obligation to speak out when support for any partisan movement or personality is conflated with Christianity itself. It’s especially odd when those who defend slaveholding or white supremacist Christians of the past as “men of their time” or as good Christians with “blind spots” are nonetheless willing to say that only those who vote the way they do can be genuine Christians.

More serious than all of the issues combined—more serious even than the future of the American Republic itself—is the conflation of the gospel with a human personality or power. When the church yawns at Trinitarian heresy or scoffs at what Jesus defines as the fruit of the Spirit but unites around a partisan identity, we are heading toward something closer to the imperial cult against which the risen Christ warned the first-century churches—congregations persecuted by that cult for refusing to say, “Caesar is Lord.” Decisions one makes on Election Day have implications for Judgment Day. But if we confuse one day for the other, we’ve lost more than an election. It’s bad enough when we say to our political opponents, metaphorically, “Go to hell.” It’s even worse when we think that’s the gospel.

Russell Moore is the editor in chief at Christianity Today and leads its Public Theology Project.

News

Pro-Life Voters Find Trump Disappointing—but Harris Even Worse

Person watches debate on a TV screen depicting Trump and Harris side by side with a flag beside it.

The first presidential debate between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris took place Tuesday night.

Christianity Today September 11, 2024
Allison Bailey / AFP via Getty Images

During the first presidential debate between former president Donald Trump and vice president Kamala Harris, both candidates spent a few minutes discussing abortion policy, yet pro-life Christians didn’t get the conviction or clarity they were hoping to hear. 

Trump twice declined to give a clear answer on whether he would veto a federal abortion ban should Congress pass one and reiterated that he believes abortion restrictions are best left to the states. Meanwhile, Harris said she would recodify Roe v. Wade if it came to her desk and didn’t say whether she supported any restrictions on abortion at all.

Trump appointed three of the US Supreme Court justices who overturned Roe v. Wade in the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization ruling in 2022. During the debate, he referred to the justices’ “genius and heart and strength” and “courage” in the Dobbs decision.

He defended the move as something the majority of Americans wanted—to be able to vote on the issue themselves state by state. 

“It’s a horrible place to plant your flag:, ‘Life is a state’s rights issue.’ No, it isn’t,” said Ryan Bomberger, founder of the conservative pro-life organization The Radiance Foundation. “Should civil rights have been a state’s rights issue? Because when that happened, it didn’t go well.”

Bomberger plans on voting for Trump but also said that seeing Republicans retreat on life has been “devastating.”

The discussion during this week’s debate reflected how pro-lifers have found their convictions on the sanctity of life sidelined by both major parties, with Republicans under Trump backing away from what has been a core voting issue for religious conservatives and Democrats doubling down on the right to abortion.

Trump didn’t voice any specific pro-life positions other than opposing abortion in the third trimester. He also sought to highlight Democrats’ extremism on abortion, accusing them of supporting “execution after birth” of babies.

Trump’s answer on a national abortion ban led to a back-and-forth with the moderator.

“If I could just get a yes or no, because your running mate, J. D. Vance, has said that you would veto if it did come to your desk,” ABC News moderator Linsey Davis asked, referencing a hypothetical national abortion ban. Getting such a bill over the finish line would require Republicans to control both chambers of Congress.

“I didn’t discuss it with J. D., in all fairness,” Trump said, then said that Vance might have a different view of the issue. Trump had previously also implied he wouldn’t sign a bill banning abortion nationwide.

“We’re headed back to this space where social conservatives aren’t sure what deal they’re getting with Donald Trump,” John Shelton, policy director for former vice president Mike Pence’s foundation, Advancing American Freedom, told CT.

Trump’s move toward the political center on abortion—or failure to speak with clarity about his position—means there is less of a contrast between the two parties when it comes to life.

“A lot of people are dispirited, demotivated,” Shelton said. Yet, “ultimately, you don’t necessarily have to trust that Trump is going to be great on this. You can just trust that Harris will be worse.”

On the debate stage, Trump said that bringing up whether Harris would sign a bill to codify abortion rights was a waste of time, since such a bill would require Democratic majorities in both chambers of Congress. “We don’t have to discuss it, because she’d never be able to get it,” he added.

Harris clarified that, should Congress pass a bill codifying a constitutional right to an abortion similar to Roe v. Wade while she was in office, she would sign it. She also came out swinging against states that have restricted or banned abortion. 

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Some Christian pro-life leaders pushed back on how Harris brought faith into her responses, referencing couples who “pray and dream” of building a family with reproductive assistance and suggesting that religious beliefs can align with abortion protections.  

She emphasized the difficult position women are put in when they seek abortions and claimed, “One does not have to abandon their faith or deeply held beliefs to agree that the government, and Donald Trump, certainly, should not be telling a woman what to do with her body.”

Harris declined to give any specific limitations she would support on abortion and expressed incredulity that abortions at nine months occur. “Nowhere in America is a woman carrying a pregnancy to term and asking for an abortion,” she said. “That isn’t happening; it’s insulting to the women of America.”

Trump referenced controversial comments by a former Virginia governor on third-trimester abortions. The majority of abortions take place in the first trimester (93%) with 6 percent occurring between 14 and 20 weeks and 1 percent performed at or after 21 weeks, according to Pew Research Center. The United States is one of a handful of countries that allows elective abortion past 20 weeks.

Since the Dobbs decision, a number of states have loosened restrictions or voted against placing more restrictions on abortion, including in Kentucky, Ohio, and Kansas, leading some politicians and strategists to blame these electoral losses on a backlash to Dobbs and the GOP’s overall position on abortion. Since then, national Republicans have sought to back away from the issue.

Currently, 63 percent of Americans say that abortion should be legal in all or most cases, according to the Pew Research Center. In contrast to other religious groups, a majority of white evangelicals oppose abortion, with 73 percent holding it should be illegal in all or most cases.

In July, the Republican Party watered down its previous position on abortion. It scrapped language that called for a national abortion ban, instead punting the issue to the states. 

“I have to admit I have serious scruples following the number of shifts in the GOP platform and the general messaging that has pretty overtly abandoned pro-lifers and social conservatives,” said Marlo Slayback, director of programs for the Intercollegiate Studies Institute. She said some are optimistic that Trump might reverse course once elected, but others aren’t convinced.

“They fear this will mark the inflection point of the GOP that historically stood by the pro-life cause, that the pro-life issue and even other issues important to social conservatives, like traditional marriage, will be abandoned in a misguided effort to win elections as Americans adopt more liberal views on these issues,” Slayback, a young Catholic mom who describes herself as a single-issue voter on abortion and life issues, told CT.

Overall, committed pro-life voters are unsatisfied with the lack of urgency around abortion. Ethics and Public Policy Center fellow and Southern Baptist Theological Seminary professor Andrew Walker told Politico that he knows “not a small number” of conservative evangelicals who are not going to vote for Trump over the issue.

“Former President Donald Trump no longer has a convincing case for why pro-lifers should vote for him,” bioethics professor Charles Camosy, who is Catholic, wrote for The Atlantic.

Abortion will be on the ballot in ten states this November: Arizona, Colorado, Florida, Maryland, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New York, and South Dakota.

In most cases, the ballot initiatives would amend the constitution in these states to remove or ease restrictions on abortion. Nebraska is an exception: Voters will consider dueling ballot initiatives, one that allows abortion up until fetal viability and another that would leave the state’s 12-week ban in place and continue to ban abortion in the second or third trimesters, with some exceptions. The amendment that gets the most votes will be implemented.

One of those states is Trump’s current state of residence. He had previously criticized Florida GOP Gov. Ron DeSantis for the state’s current abortion policy, which limits abortion after six weeks, as “too short” and a “terrible mistake.” When asked about how Trump would vote on a state referendum that would codify access to abortion, the former president said he would “be voting that we need more than six weeks.” Later, he clarified that would not vote for Florida’s initiative.

After criticizing Trump’s shifting stances on abortion, Live Action founder Lila Rose, an evangelical-turned-Catholic activist, said she hoped Trump would change his mind and earn back pro-lifers’ votes. During the debate, she wrote on X that she was glad Trump didn’t confirm Vance’s remark that he’d veto a national ban.

Other evangelical leaders predicted that despite their concerns on the issue, religious conservatives would come home to the former president when it comes time to vote.

Franklin Graham, son of the late evangelist Billy Graham, told Religion News Service that Trump’s track record on abortion outweighs his rhetoric this election cycle: “While his position on abortion may not be as absolute as some would hope, it doesn’t change the fact that he has been the most pro-life president in my lifetime and is the only pro-life presidential candidate on the ballot this election.”

Faith & Freedom Coalition head Ralph Reed said that evangelical support for Trump won’t waver because of Harris’s “extreme” positions on abortion.

Isaac Willour, a conservative commentator, analyst for Bowyer Research, and Pennsylvania voter, told CT he only expects defections if a second Trump administration actually expands “reproductive rights” and abortion access. 

“I think a large swath of the pro-life movement doesn’t follow the ins and outs of everything that Trump’s been saying the past four weeks,” he said. “If he wins and then governs in the way that Trump who showed up to the March for Life would … I think the pro-life movement will welcome him back with open arms.”

Culture

How Colombia’s Most Popular Christian Artist Landed in Houston

Alex Campos has a new home in Texas and a new musical focus—Latin worship.

Christianity Today September 11, 2024
Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Wikimedia Commons

Colombian cyclists often refer to themselves as escarabajos or “beetles,” drawing a comparison between the journeys of the small bugs across their varied terrain with those of bicyclists pedaling up and down their country’s mountainsides. For one of Latin America’s most popular Christian artists—a self-proclaimed escarabajo—a grueling ride can help generate a new song.

“There is no recipe. I don’t have anything special. While I’m riding my bike, there’s a melody, a theme going around in my head,” said Alex Campos, who hails from Bogotá, a city that sits at more than a mile and a half high. “It’s about being connected, meditating not only on the Word but on the things that God does in your life—the good and bad.”

It may be true that Campos has no secret recipe for a hit song, but he has won five Latin Grammys over the course of his career and is one of the most influential Latin American Christian artists in the industry. His most popular songs, like Al taller del Maestro (“To the Master’s Workshop”), have crossed from Christian to secular radio stations throughout the Spanish-speaking world. He averages 1.9 million monthly listeners on Spotify and has 2.55 million channel subscribers on YouTube.

According to Colombian Billboard journalist Luisa Calle, who highlighted Campos’s “Pan Duro” as one of the best Latin American Christian songs of 2023, persistence and musical versatility have sustained his long career. 

“Campos does not think that he has already achieved everything. He continues to evolve; he continues to innovate; he continues pursuing new goals,” Calle told CT.

Campos’s ability to work in various Latin American folk and dance genres has allowed him to collaborate widely and produce music that draws on a different combination of styles and regional musical traditions, said Calle. Campos has worked with not only an array of Christian popular musicians but also mainstream vallenato (a Colombian folk genre) and ranchera (a traditional genre rooted in rural Mexico) artists, including Fonseca, Silvestre Dangond, Jorge Celedón, and Yeison Jiménez. “Pan Duro” is a bachata (a dance genre originating in the Dominican Republic) song that also draws on bolero (a Cuban poetic song style) and ballad sensibilities.

“Colombian artists are very versatile because there is great musical diversity in our country,” said Calle. “Alex has been able to make the most of that.”

These days, Campos has given up the mountains of Colombia for Houston, Texas, a city whose downtown is nearly at sea level. The Christian pop star is now releasing music as an independent artist and attends the Spanish-speaking congregation of Lakewood Church, a move that reflects some of the broader trends in global contemporary worship music and transnational evangelicalism in the Americas. His latest album, Esencia, released on August 23, has a new sound, combining conventions of contemporary worship music from the US and Australia with style elements of Latin pop and other regional Latin American genres.

With Esencia, Campos continues to lean into his versatility as he starts a new chapter of his career, turning his attention to music that serves church congregations and contributes to a growing body of contemporary worship music written in Spanish, for Spanish-speaking communities (rather than translated). Campos has served as a worship leader and preacher throughout his career (he was featured in Hillsong’s 2012 Global Project), but the album marks his entry into worship music as a songwriter.

“I have wanted to make a congregational album for a long time,” Campos told CT. “Esencia is an album of music that can be sung in churches. I’m very excited about that.”

In the Latin American Christian music industry, as in the US, worship music has become the dominant genre within the niche, and artists who have written radio hits are increasingly seeing worship music production as both a spiritually fulfilling endeavor and a strategic career move. This trend has made waves in Brazil, as popular secular artists are crossing over into the Christian sphere to release worship tracks.

Christian music is one of the fastest-growing musical genres in the US—growth that is fueled by the popularity of worship music. Artists like Brandon Lake are finding success straddling the boundary between Christian pop or rock and contemporary worship. And as that boundary has become fainter, Christian artists are increasingly creating music for congregations and Christian radio.

Campos has been navigating the changing Christian music industry for years, but now he’s doing so from a home in a new country.

“It is difficult to let go of your culture, food, and family. We did not come because we wanted to, but out of obedience to God. It took me a year to understand his purpose for us here,” said Campos. “I feel like I’m starting my career all over again.”

Although he isn’t typically outspoken about his politics, Campos said that political changes in Colombia contributed to his decision to leave the country.

In 2022, former guerrilla leader Gustavo Petro, a leftist leader with an unfriendly relationship with the country’s evangelical churches, was elected president of Colombia. When he was mayor of Bogotá, Petro’s office refused to allow Góspel al Parque, the largest free Christian music festival in Latin America, to take place as planned in 2013. Some have perceived Petro’s election to the presidency as a sign that the country is becoming more and more politically fraught for Colombian evangelicals.

During a 2019 television interview, Campos was asked what he thought of then presidential candidate Petro. “If that man is elected president, I will leave the country,” he said.

Reflecting on the interview, Campos said, “I think I was expressing what many Colombians were feeling—that if a leftist government came to power, it was necessary to go out and look for other horizons.”

Campos moved to the Houston suburbs with his family in April 2022. He has found new career opportunities in Texas, but the transition has come with personal challenges. The musician struggled with depression during his first months in the US, a painful experience he says helped him empathize with other immigrants. It also spurred him to double down on his faith.

“Many of the Latinos who come here end up getting absorbed in work, and they move away from the church,” he said. “But we know that if God brought us here, it is because this country needs to be passionate about the Lord again, and Latino Christians are part of his plan to rekindle that flame.”

Campos speaks openly about his belief in God’s ability to heal and work miracles. In 2002, he was diagnosed with a tumor in his throat and lost his voice just days after beginning the tour to launch his first album. Doctors warned that his singing ability would be affected by the surgery to remove it, cutting his vocal capacity in half. According to Campos, when he went in for a consultation before his surgery, the tumor was gone.

“When I understood that God didn’t want my voice but my heart, I was healed.”

After that health scare, Campos embarked on a decades-long career that has made him arguably the most recognized Colombian Christian artist in Latin America.

Now he is expanding his reach in the US market, writing and recording songs in English and in Spanish. Campos’s 2023 album, Vida, included a song with English and Spanish lyrics. “Libre,” the single from his new album, also has lyrics in both languages and features popular American Christian artist Tauren Wells. The song, released on June 21 of this year, has over 1 million views on YouTube.

After a decade of being signed to major record labels such as CanZion or Essential Records (Sony Music), Campos is pursuing his career as an independent artist, an increasingly popular path for artists who can leverage social media to promote their music without the oversight (or overreach) of a major label. Last year, Campos managed and produced his own 13-concert tour around the US.

Lakewood Church in Houston, Campos’s new home church, is led by Joel Osteen and is one of the largest in the US. Costa Rican musician and preacher Danilo Montero is the pastor of Lakewood’s large Spanish-speaking congregation. Before Montero, the congregation was pastored by influential worship artist Marcos Witt.

The stability and support of Lakewood have allowed Campos to pursue his career as an independent artist and participate in worship music production and leadership in both English and Spanish. Although Campos is not on staff at Lakewood, he is an occasional collaborator with Lakewood Music. Campos said that Houston has been a good place to build relationships with other Christian artists and worship leaders.

“Recently the guys from Miel San Marcos [a Dove Award–winning Guatemalan Christian band] were at my house,” Campos said. “Bani Muñoz, Harold and Elena, Ingrid Rosario, or Thalles Roberto … There are a lot of people here to share coffee, lunch, a good chat. We are edified by living near so many fellow Christian musicians who have blessed us.”

As Campos has turned toward worship music as a songwriter, he has had to adapt his poetic lyricism and gift for imagery.

“His lyrics are quite complex; they are not the simple or conventional lyrics we generally see within Christian music,” Billboard’s Calle told CT. “I think the personal stories he describes in his songs—stories of struggle and faith—and his vulnerability help him to connect with people.”

Although Escencia is clearly a foray into contemporary worship music, Campos has not abandoned his interest in blending Latin American genres. As the album’s subtitle, “Latin Worship,” suggests, Campos is bringing those genres into conversation with the style and aesthetic characteristics of popular worship. Songs like “Libre,” “Gracias Cristo,” or “Te Amo” fit the canons of modern worship. But others like “Rumbo Pa la Iglesia” boldly mix musical styles as different as regional Mexican and joropo (a genre originating in the eastern Colombian plains). “Veo Tu Gloria” oscillates between Argentine tango and Puerto Rican salsa.

These days, Campos writes for the church as he navigates life in a new country and in the context of a new faith community, away from familiar landscapes. Last month, Hurricane Beryl brought huge pine trees down onto their house and car.

“Just as nature recovers over time, we too can find within ourselves the strength to overcome challenges,” Campos wrote on Instagram. “This incident is not the end, but a new beginning. It teaches us to value what we have, to be resilient and to trust that we can always rebuild and flourish again.”

Campos isn’t building a career from scratch, but he sees this season of his life and career as distinct, marked by writing music for the global church and helping define the evolving genre of Latin worship. He is still an escarabajo at heart, steadily and persistently moving along, traversing difficult terrain and finding ways to keep momentum.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m building a new career,” said Campos. “He has taken me out of my comfort zone, which just makes me more dependent on faith in Jesus.”

Hernán Restrepo is a Colombian journalist living in Bogotá. Since 2021, he has been managing Christianity Today’s social media accounts in Spanish.

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