Article
America
Creed
Justice
6 min read

Is it okay to be mean as long as you are mean and right?

Here's what a mean street preacher really taught me.

Nathan is a speaker and writer on topics related to faith, life and God. He lives near Seattle, Washington. His writing is featured frequently in The Seattle Times. nathanbetts.com

Behind a passer by a street peacher holds up a large yellow sign with a message on it.
Street preachers on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
LaTerrian McIntosh on Unsplash.

A few months ago, my cousin was visiting my hometown of Seattle for work. We planned to meet one evening for a Mariners baseball game during her visit. I suggested that we meet near the wonderful Ken Griffey Jr. statue near the stadium gates. What I hadn’t realized was that this was the precise spot a street evangelist had also decided to station himself in order to share (mostly shout) his message of judgement and destruction the same evening. Kind of like a pre-game verbal hors d'oeuvres. I arrived at the meeting point a few minutes before my cousin, giving me ample time to hear the preacher preach.  

Now, I grew up in church, and, in fact, am myself a speaker and writer on topics involving faith and God. In other words, I’ve had over 40 years to experience the church’s, umm, “quirks”. I’d like to think that very little coming from the mouths of faith preachers could shock me. Alas, I was wrong. 

As I began to listen to the preacher, lines like “weeping and gnashing of teeth” scorched through the preacher’s megaphone. Yep, nothing new there. The preacher used the word “judgment” a lot. Actually, impressively a lot. I’ve never before heard the words “God” and “judgment” used in conjunction more times within a two-minute span. There was a raging intensity to the sermon, but still in the range of normal for street preaching. 

Then, my cousin texted me that she was outside the ballpark but might have gotten the location wrong. I realized she and I were at two different locations. While I texted my cousin back, I tuned out the preacher’s message. That is until I heard him shout through his megaphone, “He hates you.” I stopped texting. I looked up at the preacher. Did he just say that God the Almighty hated all of us outside the ballpark? Families, little boys and girls, and elderly? Did God hate all of us lining up for the game? It was “bark at the park” night so even the dogs were casualties in the preacher’s line of fire. If nothing else was gleaned from the man’s message, it seemed, we were all to understand that God hates us. 

Minutes later, when my cousin and I finally found each other, I told her that she had had the good fortune of missing out on the street preacher informing her that God hates her. She replied, “Oh, I have plenty of others who tell me that!”  

Sadly, many of us have received that negative message from different sources in our world and too often from people sharing some association with God.  

In America, as election season comes to the boil, I’ve noticed (and maybe you have too) the not-so-subtle attitude that it’s okay to say mean things about another person as long as that person is on “the other side”. A verbal dig here, an eyeroll there, name-calling and slanderous nick-naming the enemy for the sake of ridicule have become all too common, if not a soft virtue in political discourse. It has become hard to discern where the moral line is, or if such a thing still exists within political dialogue.  

Conversations like the following happen so frequently following a political debate or interview, they’ve become cliché: “I almost cannot believe he said that!” Response: “Well, yes, that was pretty bad. But he’s right, isn’t he?” Translation: it’s okay to be mean as long as you are mean and right.  

Evangelicalism has gained a hard edge with little resemblance of the good news from which it has its very name.

The meaning of the word ‘evangelical’ here in America is a complex thing, to be sure. But perhaps one of the reasons it is understood as a political word more than a religious one is because the combative and rude nature of discourse seen in politics has become increasingly acceptable even in Christian settings. As a friend of mine said to me years ago, “It feels as though Christians have turned rudeness into a spiritual gift.”  

The thing is, you probably don’t know the preacher I heard in downtown Seattle, but you’ve probably heard or know a person who makes Christian claims in the same kind of rude ways.  The result is that evangelicalism has gained a hard edge with little resemblance of the good news from which it has its very name.  

I’ve had the privilege of speaking to audiences on topics of faith and God for around 20 years now and I’ve lost count of the number of people I’ve met who feel unlovable, already hated, and unforgivable for the decisions they’ve made in life.  

So when I hear a preacher shouting a message through a bullhorn in the name of God and I hear not words of hope, peace, grace, love, and forgiveness, but strictly judgement and burning, I fail to see how this God can be the one who came to earth out of love for people in the person of Jesus Christ.  

It’s true that the Bible does depict God enacting justice and judgement. But equally true is that the Bible not only displays, but out-and-out defines God as being love. My concern with the street preacher’s message is that although he might have communicated the justice of God (albeit in a warped way that would make old-time revivalists look tame), his message left little room for hearing about and feeling the love of God.  

If there is anything we need to hear today, it is the message that God, in his very nature, is love. One particular writer of antiquity, and a close friend of Jesus Christ, once penned a letter to first century churches. In attempting to explain what God is like and what people of faith should be like he wrote: “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”   

For those of us who have never been to a church, we only need to watch or attend an American football game to see a sign with the words John 3:16. That reference, taken from one of Christ’s biographies states that, “This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life.”  

This is a message we need to hear. It’s something we need to let into our bones—that those of us who feel beyond the reach of love, are in fact loved by God.  

In a strange way, I can’t help but admire the guts those street preachers have, banging out an unpopular message to strangers in crowds. The problem lies in the fact that often their message, so boldly proclaimed, is God’s disappointment, disapproval, or outright hate for people. 

Because this is the truth and too important to miss: God doesn’t hate you. He loves you. He always has and he always will. 

Article
Community
Creed
Faith
Spiritual formation
5 min read

The welcome surprise of church growth

Beyond the noise of scandal and politics, a low and steady hum resonates. It’s the sound of a quiet revival.

Lauren writes on faith, community, and anything else that compels her to open the Notes app. 

A cover of a book show a cross and the title 'You are loved'.
Rod Long on Unsplash.

‘More young men turned up at church for the first time this morning.’

‘Suddenly our pews are filled with twenty-somethings.’

‘A new family is coming on Sundays. Their teenage daughter has been dragging them along.’

I can believe it.

If you’ve heard similar things about church congregations over the past few years, you’re likely to have heard the same caveat: anecdotally, of course. These conversations have long been coloured with an undertone of confusion and uncertainty.

The Bible Society has released a landmark piece of research that has uncovered the data to back up these anecdotes about growth in churchgoing in England and Wales. The Quiet Revival is based on findings of a survey of adults in England and Wales in 2018 and 2024, undertaken by YouGov.

This set of robust data supports that anecdotal swell around church engagement in recent years, particularly among young men. It evidences a growing Church, the increased positive impact of it in communities, and spiritual openness among the young. It paints a picture of an multi-ethnic and multi-generational Church that is transforming alongside an ever-evolving cultural landscape and a shifting national understanding. This is exciting stuff.

The report identifies a general increase of people who go to church at least once a month and call themselves a Christian from 8 to 12 per cent. It presents a radical shift among young adults between 18-24, all within the Generation Z cohort, as being more likely to fit this definition of churchgoers than any generation except for those over 65. In a further reversal of norms, the research sees men as more likely to attend church than women across most ages, but especially among under-35s. Critically the report outlines that this is ‘not a case of young men joining while young women are leaving’, but of mutual increase in church attendance.

It seems that, just maybe, Christianity is cool.

Gen Z are the most likely to believe in God and to pray regularly. Just under two-thirds would be happy for a Christian friend to pray for them, and 47 per cent of non-churchgoing Gen Z believe it is a good thing for Christians to talk about their faith with non-Christians. This signals a move from attributing growth to the sole influence of cultural commentators or media personalities, and towards confident local Christians sharing faith between friends. Rather than being spurred on by influencers and intellectuals, the greatest impact comes from relationships and in-person invitation.

However, this remarkable openness to religion and experiential spirituality among Gen Z is not straightforward: a third agree that the Bible is a source of harm in the world. This is no longer an anecdotal curiosity; this is real, documented growth exhibited in an emerging spiritual generation, received by a cultural atmosphere that is warming to faith.

Going to church is good for you. In an age of self-help phenomena, The Quiet Revival positions the Church as an antidote to fragmented social lives and mental health crises. Churchgoers of all ages are more likely than non-churchgoers to be happy, to possess hope for the future and to believe that their life is meaningful, as well as being less likely to say they’re feeling anxious or depressed. Critically, these findings are true for young churchgoers, giving further reason behind their flocking to churches. Quite simply, it makes them happier.

It’s a balm to a generation – particularly young men – who are digitally surrounded but socially isolated. Going to church leads to better connection to people in the wider community, with nearly two-thirds of 18–34-year-old churchgoers feeling close to people in their local area, compared to just a quarter of their non-churchgoer peers. Looking specifically at young men in church, this increases to 68 per cent, presenting an incredible opportunity for churches to cut through the loneliness epidemic.

‘The difference is staggering,’ remarks Dr Rob Barward-Symmons, one of the reports authors. ‘It paints a picture of young adults who have found a deep sense of meaning and life satisfaction through attending church regularly, who feel connected to their communities and – in the data we have gathered on their social action – are keen to give back to their local communities as well. This is not the image we typically see of young adults in the media, but it is a powerful one.’

Going to church isn’t just good for you, it’s also good for your community. Perhaps The Quiet Revival’s deepest encouragement lies in its glimpse of a faith-in-action Christianity. The research shows a picture of churchgoers who are not just concerned for their own wellbeing, but who want to improve the lives of others - 78 per cent of all churchgoers agreeing that making a difference in the world is important.

In particular, the churches' younger generations desire social change, possess confidence and investment in effecting positive change, and a responsibility to contribute to their communities. Acts such as regularly donating to charity, supporting a local food bank, and participating in environmental improvement activities are seen as the outworkings of Christian faith in action. It indicates the consequences of churchgoing through a deep embodying of God’s love and the passing of this love to others.

‘These are the markers of whether you’re a true believer or not,’ adds Dr Krish Kandiah, sharing his own encouragement in the findings. ‘It’s not whether you turn up at church, have signed a confession or sing the songs. Jesus expounds on how to tell whether you’re in the Kingdom or not: “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink.”’

Now we’ve got the numbers, we’re left with questions. How can we respond? Where will this lead us? Are we witnessing the death of nominal Christianity? To say the findings have caught the Church off-guard may be an understatement. The 2024 survey happened to go to field on the day that news broke of Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby’s resignation. We are living in times of political unrest. Religion and just about everything else is weaponised. The poverty gap is increasing, and not just in material poverty.

The reality is that we all have a part to play. The report is inclusive in its approach and recommendations. The first call is for an increased recognition of the scale and impact of churchgoers, something that can be adopted by social influencers and decision-makers. The following recommendations are more directed to those within the Church, to prioritise discipleship and Bible teaching, to cultivate intentional intergenerational spaces where each churchgoer is empowered to tell their story, and to put emphasis on building interpersonal relationships.

Beyond the noise of scandal and political Christianity, a soft, low and steady hum resonates. It doesn’t dictate; it shares. It doesn’t drown others out; it listens. It doesn’t withhold; it invites. It prizes action over words. This is the sound of quiet revival.

 

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