Big Tent Revivalists and Social Media Influencers
Technology, Part 1: Why settle for small when large is possible?
It’s 2007, and Steve Jobs stands on stage in his usual jeans and black turtleneck. “Every once in a while, a revolutionary product comes along that changes everything.” He clicks through a few slides, and the audience begins to roar. Here it is, the product that will change everything: the iPhone.
This event seemed inevitable, something humanity built towards for decades. Soon most of America had the internet in their pocket, and the world felt limitless.
And, as Evangelical Christians, it felt like our destiny. We were religiously conditioned to be the earliest of adopters.
Charles Finney—the great 19th Century revivalist—would have been jumping up from the front row and high-fiving Steve Jobs if he could have.
He brought the tent revival and the altar call to a new level in America. He famously believed conversion was a science, teaching “that ‘religion is a work of man’ and that revival ‘is not a miracle’ but ‘the result of the right use of appropriate means.’”1 He introduced mass advertising to his revival tours because the thinking was simple: the larger the stage, the louder and further the Good News could be shared.2 Why settle for small when large was possible?
After him came Aimee Semple McPherson with her temple in California and Billy Graham with his big tent revivals. The stages continued to grow as new technologies were introduced: microphones and radio and sound systems. Next came the televangelists—Oral Roberts, the Bakkers, Jerry Falwell, etc.—with stages extending as far as money could buy. They were no longer bound by location or time—their messages could be recorded anywhere, sent anywhere, and replayed anywhere. The stages continued to grow.
For those of us who didn’t grow up on the revival circuit but in local Evangelical churches, Charles Finney’s evangelistic fervor still permeated our experiences. Legends of preachers racking up thousands of converts floated down church hallways. The church camp I attended in middle school had an arena that sat 10,000. Phrases like "church growth" and "seeker sensitive model" and "corporate structure" became passwords into the speakeasies at the back of Willow Creek and Saddleback. And although people said it wasn't about the numbers, everyone still asked how many kids were saved at church camp each summer.
Evangelicalism’s (and Charles Finney’s) mission—to gain converts—was everywhere.
So when Steve Jobs stood on stage and introduced an unlimited platform that could fit in your pocket, evangelism felt unlimited as well. Now, with the iPhone as the foundation and social media as the platform, spatial limitation became a thing of the past. The tech titans—Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, Jack Dorsey—spoke like evangelists themselves, offering a world of connection and unlimited potential.
And then there were us Christian kids, conditioned our entire lives to seek the biggest stages to spread the Good News as far as possible. We became internet revivalists, collecting followers on our way to collecting converts, and somewhere in the process the words “evangelist” and “revivalist” were replaced with the word “influencer.”
More than a fun opportunity, technology became a mission of faith. Influencers for Christ.
We’re in the middle of discovering the dark underbelly of technology. Documentaries, articles (and articles and articles and articles and articles), and books (and books and books and books and books) are revealing the staggering harm this unlimitedness can cause.
Within Christianity we are rhythmically learning of abuses (and abuses and abuses and abuses and abuses) which revolve around a nuanced web of complex realities: power, gender, celebrity, race, theology, etc. etc. and on and on. But sitting quietly on center stage—rarely discussed but ever present—is technology.
At a certain point, can a Christian pastor / influencer become too big? When can the camel no longer fit through the eye of the needle?
Sweeney, Douglas, The American Evangelical Story: A History of the Movement. Grand Rapids, Baker Publishing Group, 2005. 68.
Ibid., 69.
Yes. And how do we unplug without going into isolation, which is already too comfortable for introverts and maybe for contemplatives, too. Technology is not bringing out the best in my character. No. I am annoyed that people assume I respond instantly to a text, that I am glued to my screen to SEE their text the moment it arrives, that I am ready to "chat" any time, any where. Last week, I had a person out to see what could be wrong with my garage door. He finally called to say, "Well, I'm down here outside your garage door. I texted you!" He was surprised that I didn't see the text and even more surprised when I didn't HEAR the text come through. He tried to show me how to get notifications on an Android phone but finally gave up. "It's no problem on the I-phone. You should probably switch." I'm going for a walk now . . . to work on my attitude.
Dang, Drew, this is SOOOOO good! I'm so invested and intrigued by your writing and this topic together! Can't wait for the next part!