There’s good reason for the church to be wary of social media influencers—particularly those that speak to spiritual matters. We aren’t unsuitable to be disconcerted at the thought of Christians being led by online personalities who is likely to be more charismatic than theologically sound or more creative than credible, especially when the influencers are disconnected from church discipleship and discipline themselves. Algorithms, monetization, and viral moments create limitless temptations and opposed incentives that may seduce even well-meaning creators into serving themselves and the worst elements of popular culture.
Yet I’m also persuaded it’s possible for Christians to talk faithfully in that tension, and that we do ourselves no favors by running away from the fact of social media’s influence.
I used to be reminded of this while attending this month’s Black Christian Influencers (BCI) Conference, where founder Jackie Horbrook succeeded in curating an environment that was each aesthetically dope and substantively gospel-centered. Christian creators in fields as varied as theology, activism, and fashion got here together to debate methods to use their platforms to glorify God—and methods to navigate the risks that include staying on the leading edge of culture while centering Christ.
Those risks will not be as recent as they could seem. In John 7, Jesus’ brothers essentially tell him that he’s not maximizing his potential as a pre-digital influencer. He needed to be more outward-facing, they argued, and showcase his miraculous works more regularly because “nobody who desires to grow to be a public figure acts in secret” (v. 4).
That advice exposed their failure to know Jesus’ true mission. Even though he’d grow to be a preferred public figure, his purpose was way more significant than a couple of “viral moments.” Jesus wasn’t pursuing influence for its own sake; his message and timing needed to align with the Father’s plan of salvation. “My teaching shouldn’t be my very own,” he told his amazed audience. “It comes from the one who sent me” (v. 16).
That text should guide Christians who’ve a social media ministry and influence the lives of hundreds or tens of millions of individuals. We must not ever be more concerned with growing our platforms than with stewarding our influence faithfully. God has not placed us on this position to flex and experience the admiration. Christian influence comes with a cross. Its purpose is way more about self-sacrifice than self-indulgence.
Or it ought to be, anyway. The design of the medium will all the time make that model of faithfulness counterintuitive. Successful influencers are proficient at protecting their platform and knowing what their audience wants, which puts them in constant danger of audience capture. This happens after we pander to our audiences, giving them only what they expect to see and need to listen to in clever ways—following their lead perhaps even greater than they follow ours.
A faithful ministry cannot do that. We must tell the reality to our audience as an alternative of tickling their ears (2 Tim. 4:3).
This might be bad for business. Piling on an opponent will all the time get more likes than in-group critique. The conservative crowd wants to listen to about how diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs are ruining America, and the social justice crowd wants an limitless review of white evangelism’s misdeeds. Neither wants to listen to about how they themselves fall in need of gospel compassion or truth.
But if our public witness is dictated by digital rewards, we’re removed from Christlike. A chapter before his brothers’ confused advice, as his ministry was drawing large crowds, Jesus did what can be unthinkable to some influencers: He gave the group a tough teaching that caused lots of his followers to abandon him (John 6:53–66). The purpose of his ministry was never to pacify or flatter his audience by affirming all their self-perceptions and preconceived notions. He was there to edify them and convey them to the cross. Likewise, an influencer unwilling to lose followers for the sake of truth cannot engage faithfully.
Many influencers can even face a temptation to mimic and endorse popular culture. For those engaged in social justice and motion, too often our theology can grow to be flimsy and ambiguous. Messages concerning the Christian sexual ethic and the sanctity of life start to vanish from our platforms. We don’t wish to lose secular political allies, offend the custodians of culture, or go viral for having “regressive” views. I personally remember hesitating to critique the Black Lives Matter organization’s alternative to the standard family ethic. I supported the racial justice message in principle, but I knew lots of my peers would construe any disagreement as disloyalty.
Too few of us have the boldness to have interaction secular activists and academics while upholding the authority of Scripture. We are too busy attempting to slot in. Some of us are only glad to be invited to the table and to be related to this person or that institution. But we don’t should wield influence within the church while being simps and sycophants to the secular world.
That description is neither hyperbolic nor hypothetical. I’ve seen Christian influencers scrub their platforms of content they’d produced with saints like Jackie Hill Perry after being called out for nothing apart from the “offense” of sharing a screen with Perry while she spoke the gospel truth. They look more like Simon the Sorcerer than Jesus—using the church to further their careers on the expense of the gospel (Acts 8:9–25).
A Christian influencer, to be worthy of the name, should be a teacher with a cross. We must use our talents and recognition to steer people toward Christ, not ourselves.
This is a high standard, but it surely is a regular Christians can and do meet, as I saw firsthand on the BCI Conference. From comedian Matthew Hudson spreading the gospel through satire to Ekemini Uwan loving her neighbors through advocacy, Christian influencers are using social media in furtherance of the Great Commission. This is a recent medium for the church—and for church accountability—but it surely is a possibility to follow Jesus in pointing those amazed by our teaching to God.
Justin Giboney is an ordained minister, attorney, and the president of the AND Campaign, a Christian civic organization. He’s the coauthor of Compassion (&) Conviction: The AND Campaign’s Guide to Faithful Civic Engagement.
