You’ve likely seen them if you’re a regular TV viewer. They tend to show up as online ads as well, including various streaming platforms if you haven’t chosen the commercial-free package.
They often start with some touching scenes or images of people showing love to one another, or talking about their struggles with loneliness or rejection. There’s some emotional musical accompaniment that adds heft to whatever else is happening. And then, always at the end, some yellow and white text appears against a black background, saying that Jesus is welcoming, forgiving, and loving to all. Because he gets us.
These ads have now been around for 2 years, give or take, and many including myself have wondered what its contributors and funders might truly be up to. It turns out that the primary organizers are more conservative and evangelical, which leads me to watch for the bait and switch that frequently accompanies slick messages of Christian welcome that attempt to speak the language of the moment, especially when those behind them adhere to restrictive theological praxis. After people get reeled in by the open messaging and the modern production, the more exclusive, judgmental, and abusive elements show themselves.
The discourse around these ads kicked up again recently, as three new ads appeared during the Super Bowl. The first one featured diametrically opposed couples, one of lesser power and privilege having their feet washed by one with more: an abortion clinic patient having her feet washed by a protester, a young black man by a white police officer, a gay-coded man by a priest (pictured above).
The problem is that one of the primary funders for this campaign is majorly anti-LGBTQ+. It only takes a quick Google search to discover the other shoe yet to drop.
I had this problem with the newest ads as soon as I saw them. Many others did, too. They’re the latest in a long line, going back decades, of outreach tactics that say one thing to get people in the church doors and then take of the masks later on. We shared these critiques with this campaign, just as many have with previous iterations of the same pattern.
But this discourse has also highlighted another longstanding problem, one that doesn’t reside with those who produce these materials, nor with those who respond favorably to them. Rather, it lies with the critics, particularly those in mainline denominations and other progressive Christian spaces. And that problem is this: all we’ve ever really had to offer in response is a snarky superiority complex.
Praise music set to guitars and drums? Let’s focus on the simplistic lyrics and “inferior” musicality. Talking vegetables teaching Bible stories? Let’s nitpick what they leave out or get wrong. Screens in the sanctuary? Let’s tout the superiority of being able to read the notes in the hymnal. Online worship options? Let’s deride it as not true worship, even during a damn pandemic.
Notice what these all have in common: the critics never come up with an alternative. Inclusive and theologically rich praise music has only taken hold in church spaces in the past 15-20 years. There has never been a progressive curriculum to rival VeggieTales. Screens have finally become more accepted once people realized how much they increase accessibility for those with impaired sight or ability to hold a hymnal. And churches are still reconciling with what online worship means, even after it has shown us benefits for accessibility and reach.
For most of their existence, however, mainline churches have taken the snarky do-nothing path. By sole virtue of our learned and musically sophisticated offerings, we’ve told ourselves, we shall endure. Except we haven’t: we’re struggling with shrinking membership and budgets. And one of the many reasons for that is our refusal to adopt any of these newfangled tactics that evangelicals always have embraced with much more enthusiasm. A certain brand of Christianity dominates the culture in part because they know how to use technology, marketing, and art to get their message into people’s eyes, ears, hearts, and minds.
The point is not that we should fund a million-dollar He Gets Us equivalent. But it’d be nice if we worked a little harder at offering something. Instead of sniping from the sidelines, we could make it a point to get in the game at all. Fortunately, pockets within these institutions are finally doing so. I’d rather encourage their efforts, and participate alongside them, than continue to ride the non-anxious bench.
Jeffrey A. Nelson 