(RNS) — Q has been in the evangelical ecosystem my entire professional life. Founded by Gabe and Rebekah Lyons in 2007, Q describes itself as “a learning community that mobilizes Christians to advance the common good in society.” Its most popular offering is an annual conference, once held in different U.S. cities but hosted for the last several years in Nashville, Tennessee.
Q has featured talks from Christian leaders in business, technology, education, the arts, nonprofits and the church, and thinkers from outside the Christian world who have something important for the church to hear — Malcolm Gladwell, psychologist Jonathan Haidt, actor Tony Hale, journalist Soledad O’Brien and farmer Joel Salatin. I’ve also spoken there twice.
It’s hard for me to capture what Q symbolized for emerging millennial Christian leaders when I first attended in 2011. Here were so many bright, passionate Jesus followers compelled by a positive vision of cultural renewal — the one perhaps most made popular by the late pastor Timothy Keller.
Keller taught that Christians were called to enter and renew various sectors of society, working to bless their neighbors in and through their work. They would face ethical challenges while working alongside people with very different backgrounds and beliefs. They would learn to interact with those who didn’t follow Jesus. It was a confident orthodox Christianity, whose followers were less interested in debating their neighbors than serving them in tangible ways. The point wasn’t winning, but creating good and beautiful things and serving well.
This model was exciting, hopeful, creative and unafraid. To be sure, part of its appeal for the millennial set was its “cool” factor. At my first Q, in Portland, I remember clips of “Portlandia” playing on big screens as well as a song from M83. Oh my gosh, Christians can listen to good music and drink artisanal cortados and make their own beanies and sell them online to fight global trafficking. Christian hipsters would be the antithesis of the religious right, a rejoinder to a previous generation’s obsession with the end times and how the Clintons bore the Mark of the Beast. Pour me an IPA, my dude.
Gabe Lyons speaks during a THINQ Media event. (Video screen grab)
Gabe Lyons wrote a book on these culture-creating Christians. They were “creators, not critics,” “called, not employed,” “civil, not divisive” and “countercultural, not ‘relevant.’” He wrote in that book, “The Next Christians”:
Rather than fighting off culture to protect an insular Christian community, they are fighting for the world to redeem it. This is the essence of being countercultural for the common good. Not simply a bunch of small lights in all the dark corners of the world, but a communal light that provides a picture to the world of what a loving, sacrificial, countercultural community really is.
This all feels like a vision of a bygone era. Looking at this year’s lineup, I can’t help feeling that this posture that inspired me and so many peers seems to be fading — not just from Q but from the larger world of Christian conferences and organizations, as well as from our collective imagination.
A lot has happened since 2007. The evangelical movement has continued to fracture along ideological lines. Fewer Christian organizations seem able or willing to hold the center of charitable orthodoxy. Right-of-center and left-of-center evangelicals used to have spats on social media, like at a big messy family reunion. Today, they no longer speak to each other, having decamped to their own conferences and corners of the internet.
It’s fair to say that the legalization of same-sex marriage in 2015; the mainstreaming of LGBTQ identity, especially among young people; as well as the racial protests and COVID-19 restrictions of 2020 alarmed and alienated many conservatives, including, I imagine, evangelicals such as the Lyonses. To many of these folks, we now inhabit a “negative world” — Aaron Renn’s term for a society turned decisively against Christianity.
If our new political order is so against us, then why or how should Christians work to “renew” or “redeem” it? If our neighbors despise us this much, it seems foolish, naive, or “weak” to try to engage them winsomely. Cultural retreat (think “The Benedict Option”) or outright battle (MAGAmania) may be the only options remaining. Some conservatives have criticized Keller’s cultural model. James Wood, otherwise grateful to Keller, wrote in 2022, “Tough choices are increasingly before us, offense is unavoidable, and sides will need to be taken on very important issues.” Winsomeness, it seems, is now woke.
Also, in my view, this “negative world,” and the clear ascendence of the populist right, broke some people’s brains. Eric Metaxas marched around the periphery of the White House, Battle of Jericho style, claiming the 2020 election was stolen. Here he is, holding a shofar. Post-divorce, Rod Dreher is cozying up to Hungarian autocrats and getting into UFOs and demons. Dinesh D’Souza, once president of the now-shuttered Kings College, pleaded guilty to illegal campaign contributions. (He was pardoned by Donald Trump in 2018, and today makes a living comparing Democrats to Nazis.) Dale Partridge was once exactly the kind of Christian entrepreneur Q platformed (literally), having founded Sevenly and appearing on CT’s list of “33 Under 33.”
These days Dale tweets a lot about demonic leggings and other Christian patriarchy agenda items.
We could write these guys off as fringe. But the most extreme views have a way of taking over, bending reality and poisoning discourse. In 2020, conspiracy theories became mainstream in many Christian circles. As one pastor told me for a piece on QAnon, we’re witnessing a “death of expertise.” We don’t know who to listen to to discern what is true, good and beautiful.
Which leads me to this year’s speaker lineup at THINQ, the new name for the Q Conference. (THINQ stands for Theology, History, Inquiry, Nuance and Questions.)
Allie Beth Stuckey is a media commentator, author and podcast host who is speaking this year on “toxic empathy.” My concern is not ultimately Stuckey’s views (even though we differ on many things), but rather how she communicates them. She personally attacks people — not only “leftists” who are “disproportionately mentally ill” — but other conservative Christians, most recently Anthony Bradley and Eric Mason, using their pushback to generate more controversy, clicks and clout.
Some might praise Stuckey for not bowing to PC culture, but professional outrage-seeking is not the kind of Christian thought leadership once exemplified by Q.
Another invited speaker is Lara Logan, a former CBS News journalist who was fired in 2022 by the production company behind her Fox News show for comparing Anthony Fauci to a Nazi concentration camp doctor. Since then, Logan has promoted falsehoods about the 2020 election and the COVID-19 vaccine and praised Vladimir Putin.
As far as I can tell, the only THINQ talk on race this year is from James E. Ward Jr., who has criticized DEI initiatives. In addition to pastoring Insight Church, Ward is CEO of TLN (Total Living Network) Media and hosts a show called FlashPoint. There, he has platformed charismatic leaders who prophesied that Trump is God’s chosen one.
Ward shared his own prophetic vision on Election Day 2020, saying Jesus used the results of the ballots to sift the sheep from the goats. (The clip starts at about minute five here.) I’ll let you guess who the sheep and the goats are. This Daily Signal interview also says Ward worked with Trump in 2020.
Off the top of my head, I can think of a dozen orthodox Christian leaders who could speak on “a biblical view of diversity” (the topic of Ward’s talk) who haven’t aligned themselves with polarizing political leaders on the left or the right. Why not bring Ward onto a panel with a leader with a different take on DEI?
THINQ is also welcoming back Josh Axe, a chiropractor and nutritionist who runs Axe Wellness in Franklin, Tennessee, where he has become friends with the Lyonses. (See this RNS report.) On social media, Axe dispenses tips on fitness and healthy eating as well as medical advice, but he doesn’t have a medical degree. His online bios say “Johns Hopkins grad,” but his degree is in organizational leadership.
At the 2020 conference, Axe spoke critically of the COVID-19 vaccine and said: “I’m in complete confidence that if I’m exposed to the coronavirus that either I won’t get it, or if I do get it, that, hey, it will be a few days and I’ll be fine afterwards. Because when your immune system is strong — God designed our bodies to fight viruses. And that’s the thing: For me, it’s an attitude and mentality of faith over fear.”
The four speakers above don’t represent the whole, and I suppose you could make space for the above in the spirit of open dialogue — provided other speakers had been invited to offer counterperspectives. Like Francis Collins. Or Latasha Morrison. Or Bishop Claude Alexander. Or David French. Currently, though, the speakers above lend an undeniably partisan tinge to a gathering that was founded to repudiate culture war.
Platforming these speakers, I believe, shows a lack of discernment. One throughline is that Stuckey, Logan, Ward and Axe have established their credibility by producing online media content — fine as far as it goes, but not really a metric of true wisdom to share with the church.
Where are the Christian leaders who are credentialed through education and experience, who are credible among their peers? Who are busy helping to address the world’s complex problems, not courting controversy? Who are given a platform in part because they demonstrate Christian virtues such as humility, peace and neighbor love? These leaders surely still exist, but in the negative world, perhaps they’re now just “woke.”
In 2011, it seemed novel and edgy that Christians could listen to secular indie music and live in big coastal cities and work in secular professions. Now, edgy seems to involve flouting consensus truth claims and “doing your own research.” It all makes me feel old.
Some might say that the Keller-esque vision of cultural engagement that once animated Q no longer works, given the looming threats to the church. Maybe things are so bad out there that Christians should stop serving and start fighting. Maybe the Keller model is naive for these dark times.
But I continue to believe it holds power and promise for Christians today, because it is based on a rich biblical account of how God calls people to live in and for their neighbors, a vision that transcends time, cultures and political arrangements. I still believe lots of Christians are animated by this vision, though perhaps they are now serving quietly instead of speaking at evangelical gatherings. Maybe that’s just as well. But it’s hard for me not to feel personally disappointed by the turn Q has taken.
I’ll give Keller the final word, with the hope that some Christians are still interested in pursuing this, even if Q has moved on to other things and other agendas.
If Christians seek power and influence, they will arouse fear and hostility. If instead they pursue love and seek to serve, they will be granted a great deal of influence by their neighbors, a free gift given to trusted and trustworthy people. — “Loving the City: Doing Balanced, Gospel-Centered Ministry in Your City”
(Katelyn Beaty is the author of “Celebrities for Jesus: How Personas, Platforms, and Profits Are Hurting the Church” and a co-host of the RNS podcast “Saved by the City.” A version of this article originally appeared on her Substack, The Beaty Beat. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of RNS.)