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Creed
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5 min read

Beyond the wave and the feed

Why a generation—and a surfer—are chasing depth in a shallow world

Rick writes and speaks on leadership, transformation, and culture.

A setting sun back-lights a crowd of young people on a beach
Jen Loong on Unsplash.

For years, I've chased waves from Malibu to Maui, each one, big or small, pulling me into something raw, real, extraordinary, authentic, and divine. Between sets, I drift on my board, watching the horizon, waiting for the next wave to rise and carry me into a new spiritual journey. Each time, I'm humbled by an otherworldly sensation, a feeling beyond myself. My heart races, my toes buzz as I paddle and drop into the emerging liquid wall. In that instant, I realize I'm entering an environment that can transport me to another place, a spiritual state of wonder and awe.

When I paddle out into the ocean, I enter a world that pulls me towards something greater. This sense of wonder sparks my curiosity, urging me to look past myself, man-made institutions, and preconceived notions to what you might call the ‘invisible qualities’. For me they go beyond the laws of physics that rule the waves and the carve of my surf board. Thousands of years ago, Saint Paul called them ‘God’s invisible qualities’.    

Surfing deeply stirs my soul, tugging at my mind and heart. It reveals the wonder of each wave and the ocean's vastness, testifying to something more, a wonder and awe beyond my comprehension. In essence, surfing is my church. Every time I paddle into the liquid world of the sea, I see God’s invisible realities

Like surfers searching for the perfect wave, Gen Z is on a divine quest. Their "Jesus Curiousness" reflects a deeper yearning for something beyond the everyday - real answers and a profound sense of purpose.

New research indicates that over half (48-56 per cent) of Gen Z is "Jesus Curious," and yet these numbers do not reflect any uptick in church attendance. Someone recently posted, “The young people of Gen Z are diverse, educated, and social media savvy. When it comes to faith, they’re open to Jesus and his teachings but skeptical about institutions and leaders putting on a façade.” 

While Gen Z definitely shows a renewed interest in Jesus, they are simultaneously distancing themselves from the church. This might present a seeming contradiction, right? How can anyone, much less an entire generation, seek Jesus without engaging with the church? This phenomenon could be considered an oxymoron, much like phrases such as "almost always" or "jumbo shrimp." Or perhaps, this is an emerging trend? 

Adventurer and survivalist Bear Grylls recently articulated a sentiment that, I believe, precisely captures the essence of Gen Z's "Jesus Curiousness" and their quest for meaning outside traditional church settings. His words point to a core human longing: an authentic, genuine, and raw hope in something or someone that offers a personal answer to life's profound mysteries.

He said, “I want people to know that the Jesus I eventually discovered is intimate and beautiful and strong and gentle and relevant and life changing and life enhancing. People ask me the question, ‘what attracts you to Jesus?’ It's hard because it's like trying to say what do you like about the blood running in and around your body or water in the desert? It's like, try to live without it?” 

I think much of this shift - this renewed interest in the person of Jesus - can be traced back to how the Pandemic altered every one of our lives, specifically Gen Z. It contributed to a new and profound sense of despair, a crisis of meaning in all that we thought we knew. For example, when the Pandemic hit, it broke daily routines, both sacred and secular. Life as we knew it was put on pause and we had to look outside of those routines and what we thought we knew and practiced. We were stuck in our homes, often alone and in isolation. It gave us time to think. It created space to ask bigger, more existential questions and explore the essence of purpose and meaning. We were all forced to examine life and what we knew through a new lens. For Gen Z, this served as their catalyst. 

Notably, this larger trend of their rejection of religious institutions favors a personalized, authentic, and socially relevant spirituality. It's marked by how they distinguish between the figure of Jesus and the institution as they seek a deeper understanding of Him through unusual means. Instead of the church pew for example, they explore the commercially popular show The Chosen and contemplate the very human and honest lyrics of new musical artists like Forest Frank, both of which offer an accessible portrayal of Jesus.

In a world where digital perfection is first, Gen Z is looking for something outside of the traditional church, something authentic, a genuine connection to something real, something beyond this tangible world. Jesus to them represents this authenticity, someone to whom they can both approach with questions and find answers that potentially satiate their deepest curiosities:  What are we here for? What do we do? Is there more?

What’s interesting about this post-Christian generation is that they are not abandoning faith or becoming spiritually apathetic as many would suspect; rather, their exploration is a sincere journey for a genuine faith, leading some to consider them the most spiritual, non-religious generation to date. 

This surge in "Jesus Curiosity" doesn't suggest Christianity is losing its relevance. Conversely, it’s proof that something new, something raw is emerging and causing a shift in the spiritual landscape. It’s redefining labels and changing older definitions that may no longer fit. The underlying human desire remains constant: a quest for deeper meaning in life.

As we look at this generation and its sincere inquiry into the deeper things, we observe a spiritual renewal, a seeming revival worldwide, unprecedented in recent decades within a post-Christian society. Some call it the Quiet Revival. Gen Z does not want to fake it. They “just want to figure it out”. They are on a true quest, engaged in a journey of enchantment. At the center of their journey is Jesus, not religion and not the church. 

As my surf session ends, the salt roughens my skin and the sea's echo lingers in my soul like a quiet song. Walking back to my truck, board under arm, I relive each wave's freedom, the sound, the churn, the emerging shape. The raw power of the sea connects me to something greater, deepening my quest. You see, surfers and Gen Z in our sojourn share a common search, a common language - a search for something intangible, something immeasurable. We are on a quest to find, to see, and to know what St. Paul called God’s invisible realities.

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Truth and Trust
6 min read

The BBC and the quest for Truth

Space for neutrality is shrinking; two French philosophers explain why

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

BBC News logo.
BBC.

Watching American news always feels very different from the British version. Changing channels from CNN to Fox News feels like you're switching to a different universe altogether, as on each one you're getting a very different interpretation of events. The BBC has always been thought to rise above this. In the UK and beyond, through the World Service, the Beeb has, until recently, been viewed as an oasis of impartial, authoritative reporting in a world of propaganda and state-run media.

Now, allegations of bias, with evidence that BBC editors doctored a speech of Donald Trump to make it sound worse than it was, one-sided coverage of transgender issues, and perceived anti-Israel prejudice, have led to doubts about the truthfulness of BBC reporting, and the resignations of the Director General Tim Davie and its CEO, Deborah Turness.

It does seem that the BBC has fallen into an echo chamber, reflecting the generally liberal, metropolitan left-leaning ethos of the chattering classes. And that is a problem, especially for a taxpayer-funded corporation. At the same time, it is much harder for media companies these days to be neutral. Once upon a time, there was perhaps a broad space for impartiality and a general trust that institutions like the BBC could be trusted to tell the truth. Trying to be politically and culturally balanced these days, however, is like trying to walk along an ever narrowing mountain arête with an increasingly slim path of independence, while the steep and sheer slopes of the culture wars beckon on either side. The idea of a media platform maintaining strict neutrality is becoming harder and harder to sustain these days.

In Britain, that narrow arête has become smaller and smaller, with the BBC perceived as falling on one side of the debate, and GB News emerging to offer a perspective from the other, offering different assessments on what's going on, increasingly mirroring their American counterparts.

Now there is a reason why this space for neutrality is narrowing, rooted in cultural and philosophical developments over the past 50 years or more.

Foucault’s challenge

In the 1970s and early 80s, French philosopher Michel Foucault taught a whole generation of students - and his ideas became embedded in universities across the world - that claims to truth were in essence assertions of power. Foucault had been a Marxist, believing that power had to be wrested away from the hands of the ruling classes and placed in the hands of the proletariat. After the Paris student riots of the late 1960s, he changed his mind and started to believe that power is never concentrated in one place. It flows in multiple directions in any human relationship or institution. In such interactions, all kinds of power dynamics are at play, and you need to be very watchful to notice how they work. Power produces ‘truth’ - in other words a justification for its existence - and such ‘truth’ produces power, in that this ‘truth’ reinforces the power relations it was designed to justify. He often claimed not to be making a moral judgement – in fact moral judgments were irrelevant: “My point”, he said, “is not that everything is bad, but that everything is dangerous.” If all truth is power, then nothing is neutral. Everything is dangerous. You can’t trust anyone.

The result is that there is really no such thing as a neutral, absolute truth. All claims to truth come from a particular perspective on things. There is no ‘view from nowhere’ that stands above all our limited perspectives, and therefore the idea of finding ultimate absolute truth is fruitless.

Foucault’s target was the idea inherited from the Enlightenment that we could find truth through impartial rational inquiry. So for him, the idea that something like the BBC was an arbiter of neutral, rational truth was a mirage all along. The irony is that if the BBC has drifted into a left-leaning echo chamber, it has wandered into space deeply influenced by Foucault’s ideas – ideas which by definition make its claim to any kind of neutrality increasingly difficult to sustain.

The prevalence of these ideas explains why it is harder and harder for news outlets to remain neutral, or claim to offer the truth of things. 

Pascal’s perspective

So what does Christian theology say to this? At one point in his Pensées, another French philosopher, Blaise Pascal (unlike Foucault, a Christian one from the seventeenth century), says to the Foucault-type sceptic of his own day:

“I maintain that a perfectly genuine sceptic has never existed. Nature backs up helpless reason and stops it going so wildly astray.”

In other words, it's impossible to be a total sceptic about truth. Even the most progressive philosopher puts the kettle on and expects it to boil. He wakes in the morning expecting the sun to rise. There is such a thing as capital-T Truth and an order to the world that we didn’t create, and can be relied upon. We simply have to receive it and be grateful for it.

So far, so conservative. Yet Pascal then casts doubt on our ability to know that truth absolutely:

“Let us then concede to the sceptics what they have so often proclaimed, that truth lies beyond our reach and is an unattainable quarry, that it is not to be found here on earth, but really belongs in heaven, lying in the lap of God, to be known only in so far as it pleases him to reveal it.”

Perhaps surprisingly, Pascal agrees with Foucault, that absolute truth is unattainable to us here, at least if we think we can find it by some process of impartial human reason. Only God knows the truth. Our perspectives are inevitably limited and the only way we can know the ultimate truth is if it is revealed to us.

Which points to the heart of what a Christian believes about truth - that ultimately it is not so much rational and propositional but personal. Jesus does not say ‘here is the truth’, or ‘this is the truth’, but ‘I am the truth’.

Truth, in other words, is not just something you read on a page. It is not the product of brainy people sitting in a room analysing the data. Data always has to be interpreted and that's when fallible, inevitable and unspoken human prejudice creeps in. Truth is personal. You see it in a life – most perfectly in the life of Jesus. And if it is to be found here and now, it comes out of a life that has learned to be like Jesus, truthful in all kinds of simple personal interactions, honest even when it's inconvenient, generous even when you have little to give.

Truth, in Christian understanding, is a quality of life. It is not something that can be expected to arise from some august body of clever people – the Royal Society or the BBC. The BBC, like ITN, GB News, CNN, and Fox – and like the rest of us - will always be biased - and maybe it’s better to acknowledge that than try to hide it. To have a limited take on things is part of the human condition.

The only way we can rise above that to the ‘truth that comes from above’ as the Bible calls it, a truth which is “pure, peaceable, gentle, full of mercy, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy” is the spiritual path of inner growth, through prayer, the practice of goodness and compassion.

Truth is not something we possess but something we grow towards. When the BBC – or any corporation for that matter - embraces the spiritual path of yearning for the ‘truth that comes from above’, then we might get nearer to trusting it again. 

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
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