Skinny Jeans and Smoke Machines
There are many ways to describe the current status of modern churches in America. Still, my absolute favorite description is “skinny jeans and smoke machines.”
It’s an insight that highlights the ever-increasing conformity to a particular [pop culture] brand of Christian churches that rally around appearances and production.
Fashion on point? Music and light shows? A feel-good experience? What’s not to like?
Well, all of it.
Over decades, supposedly wise and innovative people have corralled Christianity into an emotional entertainment spectacle.
I’m more than aware some could retort and say, “Well, maybe their way of doing church is just not your flavor of ice cream or cup of tea.”
Okay fine, but the issue isn’t preference; it’s faithfulness. [For previous thoughts, see Entertainment Evangelicalism and Why It Sucks].
I’m not one of those people who thinks every megachurch is awful or off-putting. And I don’t desire to be a roadblock on the yellow brick road of church happiness and influence in their communities.
What I observe and critique are these business behemoths who, under the name of Christ, advance a brand rather than the kingdom.
What are these famous mega-brand churches today — who produce tours, conferences, and clothing brands— if not monuments to the cult of fashionable personality and dazzling entertainment production?
Do we truly trust these types of institutions to foster and form the next generation of Christian disciples?
Moreover, does Jesus trust the entertainment-driven church model to bring about gospel change in the world? I wonder if Christ is impressed with the current state of affairs or if He is infuriated.
Blessed are Those with Swag, For They Shall Inherit Popularity
In an article, author and podcaster Mike Cosper once said:
Celebrity culture turns pastors and worship leaders into icons. Celebrity culture turns worship gatherings into rock concerts. Celebrity culture confuses flash and hype for substance.
No doubt, in American churches, pastors have become some sort of the cool kid on the block. We have, unfortunately, elevated people into prominence and prestige because of their Christian charm.
The stereotype is all too real: celebrity pastor gets up on stage [dressed in high-end fashion clothes and proceed to comment about their smoking hot wife] and possesses this aura and charisma that’s just undeniable. He’s such a “good teacher” and “so relatable,” people say.
Soon, the building is packed service after service for people to be swept up in the moment, and like remoras to sharks, they cling to the celebrity pastor’s lifestyle and words.
But is it prudent and worth it to try to live through these celebrity pastors vicariously? Are these people really worth looking up to [or more accurately stated: idolizing]? I think not.
Apart from the sketchy and shady teaching, their appearance and persona alone are enough for alarm. Something seems off — way off — when a pastor looks like they are sponsors for luxury brands.
There is an entire social media page [PreachernSneakers] dedicated to kindly calling out pastors who appear far too comfortable with the luxurious name brand that costs more than their churchgoer’s monthly rent/mortgage.
One must genuinely wonder what Jesus would say if He encountered a celebrity swag pastor. Maybe it’s just me, but I suspect Jesus might suggest the same thing He said to the Rich Young Ruler [see Luke 18:18–30].
The posts revealing famous pastors’ fashion choices are intriguing, is it not?
The pomp and prestige of the celebrity pastor persona are repugnant and repulsive to those outside the church — which is ironic considering that a common motivation for dressing up is to try to look cool and attract people.
One could postulate that the easiest way to unravel these celebrity pastors is to take away the grand-size brand and lavished lifestyles and place them in heavily persecuted or impoverished places. That may be the way to reveal the Wizard of Oz as just an ordinary man, if you catch my drift.
Somehow I sincerely doubt someone like Carl Lentz would last a year in the underground church in China or in the hut-style churches with limited resources in the deep South American jungles.
Strip away the success and style of big brand evangelicalism and what you’re left with are men who have an innate need for attention, affection, and approval from their desired audience — I think sometimes we forget they are human and sinners just like us, and they struggle with the same innate shortcomings we do.
But in the end, Christian pastors are ultimately called to be one thing: shepherds, not celebrities who line their pockets with fame and fortune.
My Father’s House Shall be a House of… Entertainment?
In the synoptic gospels, we find a well-known scene where Jesus enters the temple, overturns the money tables, and drives out the people with a whip.
While dismantling the money-making monstrosity, He slips in a quote from Scripture: “It is written, ‘My house shall be a house of prayer,’ but you are making it a den of robbers.” [Matthew 21:12–13].
The subtle presence of something worldly in the place where people are supposed to meet and encounter God was enough to cause Jesus to clean house, as it were. Misplaced motivations and priorities made a mess of God’s house, and Jesus wasn’t having any of it.
Fast forward to the present day, and we seem to have similar problems.
Brett McCracken states our current predicament very well:
If you prioritize short-term trendiness, your ministry impact will likely be short-lived. If you care too much about being “relatable” and attractive to the fickle tastes of any given generation or cultural context, the transcendence of Christianity and the prophetic power of the gospel will be shrunk and shaped to the contours of the zeitgeist.
The relevance and cool wave of culture that has swept through the American Church seems short-sighted, having forgotten to keep God’s kingdom at the forefront. In other words, a collective focus more on entertainment rather than eternity.
A quick case study. A popular megachurch put on a Broadway-level production for one of their Christmas services with a dazzling lights show and flying drummers.
If a church has a budget for cinema-grade cameras, fancy lights, smoke machines, and flying drummers, that is a clear-cut sign that entertainment and relevance have crept into the church’s ethos.
Cringe level: it’s over 9,000.
When we examine a situation like this, we see a church sold out to the idea that grandeur is necessary to entertain its congregation and attract outsiders.
The wise words of David Wells give us insight into the ironic failure of such church performative tactics:
The younger generations who are less impressed by whiz-bang technology, who often see through what is slick and glitzy, and who have been on the receiving end of enough marketing to nauseate them, are as likely to walk away from these oh-so-relevant churches as to walk into them.
Indeed, I can think of a few people I know who have become somewhat of church vagabonds trying to find a good church that isn’t caught up and hyper-fixated on entertainment or relevance. It can be surprisingly tricky because sometimes the entertainment ethos is subtle rather than brash and bold.
I once visited a megachurch in Charlotte. When I arrived and entered through the massive entrance, the service team greeted me with, “Welcome, enjoy the experience.”
Note the experience. That is an interesting word choice.
Traditionally, church gatherings on Sunday mornings are called “services,” not experiences. But with the rise of relevance and seeker-sensitive brand churches, there was a deliberate language shift.
Service implies an active role; experience implies a passive posture. Service confronts us to sacrifice comfort; entertainment entails sitting back and enjoying the show. Service means getting involved with the things of God; experience means observing the event.
When I visit churches that cater to the experience model [whether by a lot or little], I can’t help but wonder what Jesus thinks about this. We might enjoy this curated worship experience, but does God? Does Jesus enjoy the entertainment evangelical experience?
Sometimes I come back to the words written in Old Testament where, on multiple occasions, God confronts Israel and tells them He hates their gatherings:
“Quit your worship charades. I can’t stand your trivial religious games.” [Isaiah 1:13, The Message].
“I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; and the peace offerings of your fattened animals, I will not look upon them. Take away from me the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I will not listen.” [Amos 5:21–23, ESV].
I wonder if Christ has similar thoughts about the entertainment monster evangelicalism created under His name.
Does God hate our modern experience gatherings? Does the Lord despise are attempts to create and manufacture an experience to stir our emotions to make us feel good about ourselves in church? Are we playing religious church games every Sunday morning by trying to be cool and relevant rather than posturing our hearts in repentance and faith to encounter the living God?
Maybe I’m just a curious cat and cannot help but ask such questions, but I fancy I might not be the only one who ponders our putrid state of affairs here in America.
Now I have no doubt that God can be found in the most unlikely places— mainly because He is the one who does the seeking and saving. With that said, I wonder why so many of these popular brand churches make the real, biblical Jesus so hard to find with all the smoke and mirrors that go into crafting a tailormade emotional experience.
Simply stated, the prevalent model of an hour and a half of fun and good vibes on Sunday doesn’t precisely align with the perpetual call to die to oneself every day, to pick up our cross and follow Jesus no matter the cost to our comfort and ambitions.
Can you imagine how many people have burned out because they thought the Christian life was this feel-good emotional life with God on their side helping them achieve all their hopes and dreams because of their Sunday morning experiences and encounters, only to come face to face with the reality that life isn’t always enjoyable and God doesn’t always give you what you want?
I would not be surprised if the number of people who’ve had a reality check with God and Scripture and the entertainment church model is relatively high — and the number is still growing.
Someone’s Knocking. Can You Get the Door?
In Revelation 3, Jesus says to the Laodicean church, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.”
Commentators and theologians have rightly noted that what makes this passage so fascinating is that despite the lukewarm nature of the church, Jesus still wants in. The admonishment comes with affection; He desires not to ridicule but to renew, restore, and reconcile.
And while I am pretty convinced that Jesus would overturn tables in many modern evangelical churches, I have no doubt He wants in. He still stands at the door of His churches, knocking patiently so that when the door opens He comes in to put things right.
No doubt it is a terrible thing to leave the door closed. In many recent years, we have seen the outcome of leaving Jesus outside the door: scandals of abuse and toxic leadership and the collapse of a so-called trusted community of faith.
At the leadership and lay level, the effects of keeping Jesus merely as the banner we fly rather than the focal point of our everyday life has done little to nothing to produce fruitful disciples.
Sadly, I simply cannot trust the entertainment-driven church model to produce fruit-bearing disciples. If anything, it will produce burned-out, spiritually deprived souls that could walk away from the church.
Pop culture Christianity may be a mass product produced and supplied to meet the demand of many. But what about the real thing? What about Christianity stripped away from the Americanized pomp and priggery?
Historically, when Christians gather together for worship, the purpose is to glorify God, encourage and exhort believers to encounter Jesus, and live out our faith by the power of His Spirit in us. And yet so often, we find American churches more preoccupied with their brand and crafting an exceptional feel-good experience, which leaves people spiritually starving and thirsty.
People in the church are desperate for authentic, biblical Christianity. I’ve honestly lost track of how many conversations I’ve had with people whose eyes have opened up to the vainglorious American church model and the lacking resources for discipleship to deal with life on this side of eternity.
Perhaps God is planting the seeds of renewal for future revival. Perhaps there is a grassroots movement brewing to reform the church by returning to its roots.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Jesus stands and waits.
I wonder, will the modern entertainment evangelical churches answer the door? Or will they keep Him on the outside while they continue the brand of business under the banner of His name? Do they even hear Jesus knocking at the door over the loud and deafening entertainment?
