Article
Comment
Film & TV
10 min read

Christianity’s big PR problem

Dancing for the Devil is just the latest shock-jock exposé.

Lauren Windle is an author, journalist, presenter and public speaker.

A dance in silhouette.
Netflix.

A friend of mine just completed her master’s in counselling from Oxford University. On the first day, the group of elite academics sat around and debated the most pressing challenges facing modern society. A huge majority agreed that Christianity was a big concern. Far from viewing the Church and its congregants as benevolent and non-judgmental assets to the community, they described Christians as ‘deeply problematic’.  

For those who haven’t purposely engaged with Christianity, the Church represents the suppression of self-expression, the enforcing of outdated and restrictive rules and the judgement of those who don’t uphold their ideals. These students believed the Church was a barrier to societal progress and the sooner it was stripped of its power and influence the better. 

While anyone who has engaged with Jesus’ teachings would agree that this is in stark contrast to his key messages, it’s hard for anyone who’s been around religion and Christians for the last fifty years to be surprised. And this, I believe, is all part of the Church’s big PR problem. 

Christianity in the media 

The media is all about telling stories. As a tabloid journalist, I was told that if a story didn’t entertain, surprise or outrage, it wouldn’t generate interest. Has it made you laugh (often at someone’s expense), shocked you or inspired you to rage? If the answer was no, it was time to find a different Reddit thread to pilfer. 

This is no longer the slogan of grubby tabloid papers but now the stuff of broadsheets and broadcast media too. The need to flabbergast, affront and amuse has even spilled into our fiction. A recent Netflix chart topping film Wicked Little Letters showed a gracious and timid Christian woman, who constantly quoted scripture, receiving vile poison pen letters. The character, played by Oscar-winner Olivia Colman, initially came across as a bit pious but generally benign. As the story progressed the depths of her character were slowly revealed, showing her to be suppressing darkness and completely unhinged.   

This kind of depiction of Christians – as suppressed and dangerous – is pretty standard. We do also see portrayals of hypocritical scammers who prey on the weak like in HBO’s The Righteous Gemstones. I’ve got an encyclopaedic knowledge of media and pop culture and the closest I think we’ve come to a good characterisation of Christianity is Dot Cotton in the soap opera Eastenders. It really is scraping the barrel when a sanctimonious, member of the blue-rinse brigade with a smattering of redeeming features is the best we can do. 

These fictional characters are, at best, the fun police, and at worst, abusive. But they only reflect the depictions of real-life ‘Christians’ that we are exposed to constantly through non-fiction media like documentaries and podcast exposés. I can’t say for sure, but I’ve often wondered if Louis Theroux started it. I find his faux-clumsy, unassuming approach amusing but his subject matter has often focused on pseudo-Christian cults and hate groups. About a year ago a (non-Christian) friend messaged on one of our many WhatsApp groups, saying: ‘Oh my goodness, I’m watching this Louis Theroux documentary and the people are WILD.’ To which I automatically responded: ‘I’ve told you before, if they show that much hate, they’re not actually Christians.’ It turned out that this time he was interviewing the parents of America’s most medicated kids, but it was a fair guess. 

The baton of shock-jock journalism has now been handed on. It’s no longer just Louis Theroux interviewing Westboro Baptist Church members wielding ‘God Hates Gays’ signs. Now every documentary maker is on the lookout for extremists, abusers and cult-leaders performing horrific acts ‘in the name of Jesus’. And they’re finding them. 

There isn’t enough time or a big enough word count for me to describe all of these documentaries. With minimal Googling skills, I can find; God Forbid: The Sex Scandal That Brought Down a Dynasty (Disney, 2022), In the Name of God: A Holy Betrayal (Netflix, 2021), Sins of Our Mother (Netflix, 2022), Children of God (1994), Unveiled: Surviving La Luz del Mundo (2022), Hell Camp: Teen Nightmare (2023), and the list goes on.  

I’ll run you through some of the most influential and widely watched of the last few years, but I warn you… if Jesus hadn’t risen from his grave, he’d be turning in it. 

There is no attempt to clarify the truth behind the contortion.

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Dancing for the Devil  

Netflix, 2024 

In the week it came out, Dancing for the Devil was viewed by an estimated 4.4 million people. The show discussed the fun and promising dancing career of two sisters who had a substantial following on social media. But when Miranda Wilking, the older of the pair, met her Christian boyfriend, she pulled back from her family in order to invest in his church (which was incidentally also an artist management agency).  It wasn’t like any church I have ever been to. In order to attend, you need a personal invitation from the leader. The pastor Robert Shinn insisted that he had a direct line to God and if congregants wanted salvation they had to listen to everything he said. 

They told the members to ‘die to themselves’, meaning give up everything to obey their leader. They also insisted that members cut themselves off from their families and gave up eighty per cent of their income to the church. Miranda is still in this church community and strongly denies that she is a victim or is in a cult. Commenters on her social media persist in pushing her for answers. The first comment on a dancing video I viewed asked: “Is this the woman that is owned by that Chinese priest?”  

Shiny, Happy People 

Prime, 2023 

This docuseries is an exposé of the Duggar family, the stars of American noughties show 19 Kids and Counting. The original programme followed the lives of the Christian parents as they home schooled their modestly dressed children, and popped out babies at an alarming rate. The show was cancelled in 2015 when it was reported that the oldest son Josh had sexually assaulted young girls, including his sisters. Shiny, Happy People starts off by exploring the story of this odd family, their disturbed son and the cover-up that ensued. But the documentary develops into an exploration of the abuse propagated and protected the Christian fundamentalist organisation they were a part of. Writing for Jezebel, reporter Rich Juzwiak said the series was: “A damning portrait of a Christian organization that created a power structure leaving so many of its followers open to abuse, and a profile of exactly how that played out in one family."   

Our Father 

Netflix, 2022 

The story follows a former fertility doctor Donald Cline, who impregnated his unsuspecting clients with his own sperm, fathering ninety-four children by fertility fraud. Cline was a family man, church elder and devout Christian. Towards the end of the documentary, it becomes clear that these actions were the result of his pseudo-Christian beliefs. It is thought that he was, in fact, a member of Quiverfull, a strict branch of conservative Christians who reject contraception. It appears that Cline's motivation for illicitly spreading his seed was that he believed that to have more children was to have more blessings. 

Keep Sweet: Pray and Obey  

Netflix, 2022 

This documentary follows the polygamous Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (FLDS), a spin-off from Mormonism. The motto “keep sweet: pray and obey” was often chanted in the group as an instruction for women when interacting with men. Women were "to be in control of [their] emotions and [they] didn't display things like anger or resentment or frustration". The women all wore pastel-coloured, frilly dresses and their leader Warren Jeffs, took a mere seventy-eight of them to be his wives. Jeffs is currently serving a life sentence in Texas for child sexual assault. In researching the response to the documentary, I came across a Reddit thread where the reader confessed that: “Learning about the FLDS church has made me question my faith as a Christian”. The anonymous forum user said: “Somewhere midway through the 3rd episode of the documentary it dawned on me how much similarities there were between The FLDS and Christianity.” [sic] 

A key problem 

This final admission by a Redditer, leads me on to a key point. These manipulative cult leaders use just enough biblical truth to make their teaching plausible. Jesus says: “If you come to me but will not leave your family, you cannot be my follower.” Robert Shinn says cut off your family and follow me. With an impressionable mind and little understanding of the Bible, a person could be forgiven for thinking these are compatible and complementary statements. They are dramatically different, as the first aims to unite you with your creator and acknowledges that in some cases a decision to follow Jesus will cause such upset it will mean losing important relationships. Jesus does not ask his follows to isolate and cut off caring family members, he is for healthy community and offers his followers freedom not captivity. 

These documentaries constantly cite scripture and show clips of abusers using God’s word to justify their crimes. So, to that Reddit user who was worried that there were similarities between FLDS and Christianity, of course there are – they designed it that way. Without the familiar of snippets of the gospel in their message, they wouldn’t be able to foster the initial sense of safety followers need to get sucked in. 

The agony for a practicing Christian is that, in all their detailed research and shocking-details, at no point do any of the documentary makers explain that these horrific actions and principles are not reflected in the Bible but are in fact (sometimes deliberate, sometimes ignorant) user error. There is no attempt to clarify the truth behind the contortion. Not once does someone correct the flawed teaching and bastardisation of the gospel message by explaining the true context and intention behind the verses. Even if viewers can acknowledge that these are extreme circumstances, they aren’t left understanding the edifying nature of God’s love, his word and the Church (when done right). Instead, those who don’t know Christ are just left to ponder the twisted teaching and gape at the horrendous fallout. If this was my only contact with God, Jesus or the Bible, I would think it was problematic too. 

Take it from me, you’re doing yourself a disservice if you allow this negative press to cloud your judgement. 

The solution 

Many have seen the punchy headlines and felt the growing discontent directed towards Christianity as a result, but few have the means to do anything about it. Until a Christian foundation in Kansas launched a $100million campaign called “He Gets Us” promoting Jesus to the masses. The adverts ran during the 2023 Super Bowl – the most expensive advertising spots on US television. In the various billboard and video ads, the foundation presented Jesus as an immigrant, a refugee, a radical, an activist for women’s rights, a defender of racial justice and a protestor of political corruption. 

There’s so much right with the intention behind this. Reintroducing Jesus to a new generation who are less likely to have been churched and are less likely to understand the nature and story of Christ. But when it came to light that the advertising campaign’s funding was associated with an organisation that lobbied for anti-LGBT and anti-abortion laws, we were right back to square one in the public perception: problematic, dangerous, judgmental and suppressed Christians.  

So, what do I think we should do about it? I’ve been in alcoholic recovery for more than ten years and there’s something rather beautiful about Alcoholics Anonymous’ principle of ‘attraction not promotion’. I don’t think we can compete with the click-bait tactics in the media. We wouldn’t want to – it would be fundamentally inconsistent with Jesus’ message. A documentary detailing the life of someone who matched these cult leaders’ and criminals evil with extreme good deeds, would never be as enticing. There are loads of films about Mother Theresa’s life that don’t make the top ten on Netflix. Let’s not play them at their own game. 

I think rather than punching people in the face with the goodness of God and ramming it down their throat, we’ve just got to show up, day by day, consistently demonstrating a Christian love that is so incompatible with what they’ve seen on TV that they can’t help but differentiate between the two. Speaking of Mother Theresa, she reportedly said: “If you want to bring peace to the whole world, go home and love your family.” Well, I reckon if you want to tackle Christianity’s big PR problem, go home and love your neighbour. 

To those who are reading this who don’t believe there’s a non-judgemental and welcoming Christian faith, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what you’ve been shown or even possibly experienced. What Jesus offers is indescribably better than that. As someone who felt the Church was a place of exclusion and harsh rules I could never live up to, I walked out. It was ten years later when I finally decided to give it another try and what I found was remarkable care, love, consistency and support. Take it from me, you’re doing yourself a disservice if you allow this negative press to cloud your judgement. Don’t let Christians ruin Christ – and I’m using the term ‘Christians’ in the loosest possible terms here. 

Essay
America
Comment
Leading
Politics
6 min read

Democracy, hypocrisy and us

A deep dive into the pitfalls of political vision and our response to them.

Josh is a curate in London, and is completing a PhD in theology.

Donald Trump holds his arms out to his side while speaking.
Trump addresses a faith leader event.
x/realdonaldtrump.

Coverage of the Republican candidate for Vice-President, J.D. Vance can't help but return again and again to his Christian intellectual influences. Whether it's an interview with Rod Dreher or an analysis of Patrick Deneen and other 'New Right' thinkers, many US political journalists are having to give their readers a crash course in some of the most controversial ideas in contemporary theology. One recent Politico article stands out because it didn't just introduce an unsuspecting audience of political obsessives to an obscure theologian, it also told them (us) about contradictory ways one might read said obscure theologian. And yet these contradictions force us to confront a difficulty facing anyone engaged in democratic debate.  

In the article , Ian Ward sought to explore the impact of Rene Girard's scapegoat mechanism on Vance. In doing so, Ward underlines the importance of Girard's ideas in the intellectual circles around J.D. Vance and his mentor, Peter Thiel.  

Girard, a French academic who died in 2015, is remembered foremost for his analysis of the relation between desire and conflict. Girard proposes that desire is ‘memetic, that is to say, it mimics; I want what I see that others want. This naturally leads to conflict, a conflict that can only be resolved by a scapegoat. Identifying a scapegoat, an out-group, is a force powerful enough to create a sense of solidarity between those would otherwise be in conflict over shared desires. 

The Politico take considered how Vance's reading of Girard might relate to Vance's defence of his running mate's false suggestion that Haitian immigrants are eating their neighbour's pets in Springfield, Ohio. It went as far to suggest that—rather than a rejection of Girard's analysis— Vance could be understood to be applying a pragmatic reading of Girard. Ward writes:  

Though Girard never said so outright, some of his interpreters have argued that Girard’s idea of the Christian ethic — which in theory offers an alternative to ritualistic violence as a basis for social cohesion — cannot in practice serve as the basis for a large, complex and modern society. 

Scapegoating is inevitable, deploy it to your advantage. We cannot know how exactly this or any reading of Rene Girard factors into his political tactics. What we can know is that Vance's public fascination with big ideas opens him up to a charge upon which a healthy democracy depends: hypocrisy.  

In contrast, there is often a surprising transparency to Trump's appeals to self-interest, Addressing a audience in July, Trump declared:  

Christians, get out and vote, just this time. You won't have to do it anymore. Four more years, you know what, it will be fixed, it will be fine, you won't have to vote anymore, my beautiful Christians. 

As much as Vance and others try to change this, there is little ideological content, no substance behind ‘Make America Great Again’ insofar as Trump tells it. It is politics at its most transactional and what Trump offer his supporters, beautiful or otherwise, is so often a scapegoat. Trump tends to be pretty open about this and, as ugly as this kind of politics is, there is a strange kind of honesty to it. But Vance is different. He has big ideas. And however weird you may think these ideas are, and however much tension there seems to be between his love of Rene Girard and his scapegoating of Haitian immigrants, democracy is better for that tension. Constructive democratic debate, in some sense, depends on hypocrisy. Without it, democracy would be nothing more than a negotiation around mere self-interest.  

A politician with an ideological vision is one that can be held accountable. Keir Starmer's recent decision to pay back £6,000 worth of gifts is a case in point. Had he not sought to set himself as a contrast to the Boris Johnson of Partygate, the criticism of his accepting clothes and tickets would not have had the same bite. 

Stumbling into politics haunted by a sense that things could be better will make us hypocrites on impact.

The first generations of Christians encountered a similar problem. The law they believed that they had received from God showed them a vision for the good life just as it revealed all the ways they fell short. As the early church leader Paul wrote: “through the Law comes the knowledge of sin.” We might add that through political ideology or aspiration comes the knowledge of political hypocrisy.  

Had Vance never publicly explored Girard's theory, if he were only an opportunist more like Trump, we would have one less means by which to hold him to account. Every politician will be found lacking when judged by their public ideological aspirations. And the more ideological aspirations, the greater the charge of hypocrisy. Hypocrisy will always be found wherever we find people debating and aspiring to ideas more perfect than they are.  I'm not defending any individual hypocrisy; the residents of Springfield, Ohio and newcomers across the US deserve so much better. Hypocrisy is always disappointing, but it is less disappointing than the alternatives: either a naked pursuit of self-interest or a naïve expectation of ideological purity. 

The question for each of us in a democracy is how we live with hypocrisy, expecting it while still expecting more from those who wish to serve us in public office. And a moment's introspection reveals that it is a charge that confronts each of us also: the shaming gap between my aspirations for my life and the reality. To ask how we live with these hypocritical politicians is really to ask how we live with ourselves? 

With that we return to Girard. He claimed that Jesus Christ willingly became a transparently innocent scapegoat and in doing so undermined the mechanism. In the Politico article, Vance is quoted as follows:  

In Christ, we see our efforts to shift blame and our own inadequacies onto a victim for what they are: a moral failing, projected violently upon someone else. Christ is the scapegoat who reveals our imperfections, and forces us to look at our own flaws rather than blame our society’s chosen victims. 

The exacting logic of the crucifixion prevents us from scapegoating even the scapegoating politicians. 

But Jesus’ death is more than an embodied social critique. In coming to us and dying in the person of Jesus, God showed his love for imperfect people struggling under the weight of perfect ideas. He came to give the home and safety we all desire, offered freely to hypocrites.  The point of Christ's death is not, at least in the first instance, to inspire me to treat others better. It is God's unconditioned offer to the broken and hypocritical, as the broken and hypocritical, not as he'd rather we be. 

Paul puts it like this: "God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Yes, God's grace is too dramatic, too strong not to provoke us and empower us to change, but his love comes to us before any change. It comes to us as we are, nursing our pitchforks and that self-righteous sense that it's all really someone else's fault.  

Stumbling into politics haunted by a sense that things could be better will make us hypocrites on impact. We must not excuse this hypocrisy; we should hold ourselves and our leaders to account. And yet we can do so gratefully haunted and gratefully held by a God who came for hypocrites.