christianity

In Defense of Testamints: Why Christians Are Committed to Making Alternatives No One Asked For

/ Jason Morris / Leave a comment

Whenever culture does, well, just about anything, somewhere a Christian committee springs into action!

“There’s a popular song on the radio…We need a Christian version.”

“There’s a movie people like….Get Kirk Cameron on the phone.”

“There’s a halftime show…Quick! Assemble the Praise & Production Team.”

Thus begins the sacred work of Christian alternatives. It’s become a parallel universe where everything exists, just slightly worse.

Over the years, we Christians have given the world Christian rock that insists it’s not worship music (but definitely is); Christian movies where the villain is almost always an atheist professor; Christian theater that mistakes volume for conviction…And yes, Testamints! The breath mint that boldly asks, “What if we offer the world salvation…but minty?”

The motivation is almost always sincere (with a few exceptions where people just see it as a quicker way to make money and/or rise to fame…see the Christian music episode of South Park for an example). We want Christian values represented. We want something wholesome. We want to protect our kids.

But instead of creating art that’s beautiful, complex, and honest, we often settle for art that is inoffensive, over-explained, and opposed to metaphor.

You know the look. You know the sound. Christian art is often identifiable within seconds…not because it’s daring, but because it’s desperately afraid someone might miss the point.

We avoid silence. We remove any ambiguity. We always resolve the tension. 

Every character arc is a sermon illustration with legs. Every song chorus sounds like it was approved by three subcommittees, a doctrinal statement and a greeting card company. If it isn’t under-produced, it’s over-produced.

Let’s be honest, many Christian films make even the most forgettable Hallmark movie feel like a bold, experimental risk worthy of an Oscar. 

This is wild, because Christians claim to be telling the greatest story ever told! We have a book filled with incredible stories about a God who enters suffering, embraces complexity, and refuses easy answers. We have tremendous source material.

Yet, our storytelling and songwriting often feels like it doesn’t trust either God or the audience.

Christian art doesn’t struggle because it’s Christian. It struggles because it confuses clarity with depth and calls it faithfulness.

In 2025, the top Christian streaming artist, Forrest Frank, pulled in 1.2 billion U.S. streams. That’s genuinely impressive. He writes fun and catchy songs that reach a large audience. I mean, even I learned the trending Forrest Frank TikTok dance! His theology and political leanings may not be everyone’s cup of tea…but his music is definitely better than most Christian offerings out there.

Then, there’s 2025’s overall top streaming artist, Bad Bunny, with 19.8 billion streams. In case people were wondering, this is a large reason why he was invited to the Super Bowl…he’s the most popular recording artist in the world right now!

This is not oppression. This is not spiritual warfare. This is not the mainstream culture silencing Christians.

This is what happens when something connects beyond a niche subculture. The Super Bowl Halftime Show Planning Committee didn’t overlook us. The charts are not persecuting us. They are simply unimpressed.

There was a time when the church didn’t make “alternatives,” it made masterpieces. It invested in the fine arts.

Bach wasn’t writing “Christian-adjacent” music. Mozart wasn’t trying to be “safe.” They were crafting beauty because the church believed beauty mattered.

Today, we sometimes replace excellence with branding and call it ministry.

The recent halftime “alternative,” which originally sounded like it was going to be a Christian praise and worship gathering, until it suddenly became patriotic, perfectly captured our confusion.

It wasn’t rejected by the mainstream because it was Christian or patriotic. It wasn’t rejected because the world hates Jesus and refuses to change the channel to TBN. It wasn’t rejected because of persecution.

It was rejected because it wasn’t compelling. Parading an alternative as family-friendly and patriotic and then inviting Kid Rock to sing “Bawitaba” seems anything but family-friendly! 

Calling something an “alternative” does not make it art. Insisting people should like it because it’s not the mainstream does not make it good.

Here’s a wild idea…Christians should be able to recognize goodness even when it wasn’t made for us. We should be able to spot and celebrate joy, talent, creativity, energy, and beauty whether it was created as an act of worship or not. 

Sometimes that shows up in a hymn or praise chorus. Sometimes it shows up in a novel. Sometimes it shows up in a halftime show that looks nothing like Sunday morning. And that’s okay.

We are not being persecuted because our favorite artist wasn’t invited to the Super Bowl. And if “family-friendly” is the goal, defending questionable picks with “But he also sang a song that reflects his personal growth” is not mature spiritual discernment. That’s just creative rationalization and justification.

At the center of Christian faith is the Incarnation…not God creating a safer, parallel universe, but God entering this one. This messy, loud, complicated, and real universe. Maybe we should follow Jesus, and instead of creating a safe Christian alternative, we should enter into the one that is all around us…with the light, love, goodness and creativity of the God who called it all into existence.

There are strands of Christian theology that insist that all truth is God’s truth, beauty is never wasted, and the image of God shows up in unexpected places.

The Gospel does not need to be dumbed down, sanitized, or rebranded to survive.

So maybe the call is simple. Maybe we should stop making Christian alternatives. Stop settling for “good enough.” Stop confusing safety with faithfulness.

Maybe we should make art that’s honest. Let’s make art that’s excellent. Let’s make art worthy of the story we’re telling.

Because the Good News doesn’t need breath mints. It needs beauty.

This is the Line

/ Jason Morris / Leave a comment

Before anything else, let me say this plainly: If the church has hurt you…If you are grieving what faith used to be for you…If you feel disappointed, exhausted, angry, or quietly heartbroken by Christians or Christian institutions…

There is room for you. There is space for your grief. There is no rush to “fix” it or spiritualize it away.

Jesus never scolded people for being wounded by religion. He consistently made room for them.

Many of us are carrying church-shaped bruises these days. Some are fresh. Some go way back. Some are the result of hypocrisy, exclusion, abuse of power, or faith used as a weapon rather than a healing balm. If you’ve stepped back, grown quieter, or are holding onto a mustard seed of faith with open hands instead of clenched fists—that doesn’t make you faithless. It makes you honest.

So, let’s move forward…together, with compassion for ourselves and one another. 

In the midst of all the noise, outrage, and confusion swirling around faith, politics and culture, I want to name my line.

Love.

Not vaguely sentimental love. Not politeness. Not “bless your heart” spirituality. Not the “real love” that Mary J. Blige sang about…But the kind of love Jesus lived, taught, and embodied. The love that costs something and gives something at the same time.

Some may argue that Scripture can be contradictory and unclear. However, when it comes to love, Jesus was remarkably clear.

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength… and you shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:30–31).

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35).

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you” (Luke 6:27). 

“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (Luke 6:36).

This is the line Jesus draws again and again.

It’s not about who’s in and who’s out (though He does explore what happens to those who share or withhold love in Matthew 25:31-46).

It’s not about who’s right and who’s wrong…or who wins or dominates or shouts the loudest.

It’s about one word…Love.

That doesn’t mean love never confronts or avoids telling the truth. Jesus was loving and honest, compassionate and courageous. But love was always the point. 

If what we’re doing doesn’t look like love, sound like love, or move toward love, it’s time to pause and reassess.

Here’s some good news that often gets lost: following Jesus was never meant to feel like carrying the weight of the world alone. We will face triumphs and trials, joy and pain (“give it to ’em, Rob Base!“), calm and chaos…but we don’t have to face these things alone.

Jesus invites the tired and burdened to rest (Matthew 11:28). He feeds people before he teaches them. He notices outsiders. He laughs at dinner tables. He tells stories with humor, irony, and surprise. He welcomes the marginalized and outcast. He trusts flawed people and seems oddly unconcerned with perfection.

The United Methodist tradition puts language to this grace-filled reality. We believe that God’s grace meets us before we know we need it (prevenient grace), walks with us as we grow (sanctifying grace), and never lets go when we stumble (justifying grace). We believe (or at least I believe) that grace is not fragile, love is not scarce, and hope is not naïve.

So maybe this season isn’t about fixing the church all at once…or at all? Maybe it’s about being the church in small, faithful ways.

We can show the love Jesus calls us to embody when we choose kindness when cruelty is easier, practice generosity in a culture of scarcity, listen instead of label, laugh when joy feels rebellious, authentically show up with a commitment to be open and honest. 

Maybe this love Jesus calls us to is about embodying the fruits of the Spirit, not as a checklist, but as a way of life: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22–23). It’s not flashy or trendy (or at least it shouldn’t be), but it does change lives.

If you’re still reading this…please know that you don’t have to carry the whole church on your shoulders. You don’t have to argue with everyone. You don’t have to explain yourself constantly. You’re allowed to choose love. You’re allowed to choose joy. You’re allowed to choose Jesus, even when others distort him.

This is the line I’m committing to…to love God and love people, to tell the truth with humility, to make room for grace, and to trust that the Spirit is still at work. 

If you ever find yourself saying, “I’m not sure where I fit anymore,” you’re not alone. Here’s some good news…The table Jesus sets is wide. There’s room for doubt and hope, laughter and tears, faith that’s confident and faith that’s hanging on by a thread.

This is the line…or at least my line…Love still leads us. Grace still holds us. Hope still matters. The Spirit is still moving

And I still believe that is more than enough.

The Danger of Flippant Labels

/ Jason Morris / Leave a comment

We live in an age of easy labels.

Disagree with someone and, in an instant, they can become an “enemy.” Express a different view and suddenly you’re a “radical,” a “communist,” or worse. These labels roll off tongues quickly and thoughtlessly, as if naming someone with a single word could possibly capture the complexity of their humanity. 

But these careless labels aren’t harmless. They are used to dismiss, belittle, and devalue those with whom we disagree. These labels distort truth, divide communities, and dehumanize people created in the image of God.

I think often about my great-grandfather when I see this happening. He was a Russian immigrant, born in Dobrinka into a family of exiles who had fled Germany for the Volga River region of Russia. After the death of his father, his family immigrated to the United States seeking a better life. Like so many immigrants, he worked hard to learn English and to speak without an accent—he even encouraged his brother to do the same, hoping it might spare him from prejudice.

He served proudly in the U.S. military during World War I. He loved this country deeply. Through hard work and determination, he found minor success as a farmer, a small business owner, and a landlord. He also answered a higher calling—serving as a pastor in the Church of God (Anderson). His faith wasn’t a Sunday-only affair; it was the center of his life, the reason he gave generously, treated workers fairly, and opened his home to others.

And yet, during the McCarthy era, my great-grandfather was labeled a communist. Not because he was part of any party or movement, but because his place of birth and his values—justice, compassion, care for the poor—were suddenly viewed through the warped lens of fear. His desire to live out the teachings of Jesus made him suspect. He faced discrimination and business losses as threats of being placed on a “list” loomed over him.

Still, he never stopped believing that the Gospel meant something more than private faith. He took seriously the example of the early church in Acts—where believers shared what they had, ensuring that no one among them was in need.

His legacy shaped my family’s story. My father, who admired him deeply, would probably best be described in a political sense as a democratic socialist. When I hear people today flippantly use the label “communist,” I can’t help but think of those old stories my father shared of my great-grandfather.

Labels like that are meant to shut down conversation. They’re meant to discredit, to divide, to silence. But when Christians reach for them too easily, we risk betraying the very heart of our faith.

We have used labels like “communist” to dismiss people working for the fair treatment of all people, while celebrating “Christians” who, due to their refusal to humble themselves and work together, withhold food from the hungry, healthcare from the sick, or shelter from the unhoused. When I see this, I find myself thinking that perhaps we’ve misunderstood Jesus altogether.

Jesus didn’t label people. He listened to them, healed them, ate with them, and loved them. He warned against hypocrisy and fear-driven religion. The Kingdom he announced wasn’t divided by ideology but united by compassion.

The early church didn’t thrive because it was powerful or “right.” It thrived because it was known for its love.

Maybe it’s time we reclaim that same spirit—choosing understanding over accusation, curiosity over condemnation, and love over labels.

To learn a bit more about my great-grandfather’s faith, generosity and legacy, watch this short video put together by Anderson University and the Church of God: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iqY9wiGqrs

Pastoring in a Fractured World: A Reflection for Pastor’s Appreciation Month

/ Jason Morris / 1 Comment

I don’t need to tell you that the world feels fractured. Politically, socially, and yes, religiously, the landscape is a minefield of cultural tensions. As a pastor, I know many feel that fracture running right through the doors of the church and, more often than not, right through our own hearts.

The call to pastoral leadership in this context has become immensely complex. The job description today often feels less like pastor and more like a combination of cultural mediator, theological punching bag, and emotional trauma counselor.

Yet, in the midst of this complexity, our ultimate anchor remains profoundly simple.

The servant leadership to which we are called finds its purest expression in the Gospel of John. In chapter 13, Jesus knew his time was short. He didn’t use his final hours to issue a mission statement or hold a strategic planning session. Instead, he took off his outer garment, picked up a towel and a basin, and washed the feet of his disciples.

This is the non-negotiable definition of Christian leadership: a call not to power, but to humble service. We are called to embody the cross, which means putting the needs of the flock—even the dirty, resistant, and confused parts of the flock—before our own comfort or reputation. It is a humble, dirty, and often thankless act of love.

When a leader sincerely attempts to be faithful to Jesus, Scripture, and the rich tradition of United Methodist theology—a tradition that demands us to hold together grace, Scripture, reason, experience, and tradition—we are almost guaranteed to disappoint everyone.

My sincere pursuit of the radical, inclusive love of the Gospel is often labeled “too liberal” by one segment of the congregation. Simultaneously, my commitment to the authority of Scripture and the tradition of the church is immediately dismissed as “too conservative” by others. All the while, I am simply trying to remain faithful Jesus.

This environment has given rise to a deeply disappointing form of spiritual toxicity. We face not just theological disagreement, but outright personal attack. The name-calling—the accusations of heresy, the claims of being a “CINO” (Christian In Name Only), or whatever new term is trending online—is mean-spirited and fundamentally unchristian.

It is particularly painful when the genuine anger and disappointment people feel about our broader denominational decision are indiscriminately directed toward the local pastor who is simply trying to serve the community. Honestly, it hurts when people dismissively label pastors and ministry leaders as “woke liberal social justice warriors” when all we are doing is trying to follow in the Way of Jesus. 

Perhaps the most disheartening trend is the retreat from true Christian dialogue. People are making rash decisions—leaving the church, withdrawing from ministry, severing relationships, withholding gifts—based on incomplete or false narratives they’ve encountered outside our walls. The absence of a simple conversation is a wound. A moment of discussion with their pastor could often correct the misunderstanding or confusion, but many choose to walk away in silence, taking their pain and misinformation with them. And, let’s be honest, some don’t walk away in silence. They’ll talk about the church and why they are leaving with anyone who is willing to listen…except, of course, the pastor and church leadership!

This phenomenon is fueled by the rise of unvetted authority. We now live in an age where those who lack theological training have elevated themselves as experts simply because they found someone on Google who happens to agree with their pre-existing bias. They proof-text a verse of Scripture—ripped entirely out of its historical, literary, and theological context—and wield it as a weapon against the very community of Christ that gave it to us. It’s an act of deep theological arrogance that undermines centuries of scholarship and community discernment.

And then, at least for this pastor, there is the deepest hurt: the betrayal from within the body of clergy.

I must confess a profound disappointment in fellow clergy colleagues who have chosen to engage in tactics that can only be described as manipulative. When leaders actively lie and alter facts in order to “woo” people away from neighboring congregations, it is not discipleship, it’s not evangelism—it is opportunism. The concept of “stealing sheep” is an ancient indictment in the church, and its practice today is no less offensive to the Holy Spirit. We must trust that the success of a true ministry lies in fidelity to the Gospel, not in numerical gains achieved through unethical, divisive means. That kind of short-term thinking will never be rewarded in the long haul of God’s Kingdom.

So, what shall we do? I believe we must return to the towel.

We put on the apron of a servant, we bow down low, and we wash the feet. We commit ourselves anew to the hard, often lonely work of being a faithful pastor. We will keep preaching the transforming power of grace, teaching the depth of Scripture, and seeking the unity of Christ, even if it means we are never popular.

We lead not for praise, but for Christ. We serve not for reward, but because we have been served. And we trust that even in the storm, the work done in humble love is the only work that truly lasts.

So, if you are a pastor who is feeling the heaviness of our fractured world, know that you are not alone. Know that you are are seen…you are valued…you are loved…you are needed.

Happy Pastor’s Appreciation Month!

“You Don’t Look Like a Pastor.”

/ Jason Morris / Leave a comment

It was a Friday night about 14 years ago.

I was leading the wedding rehearsal for a young couple at the church I was serving. I was wearing my typical rehearsal attire: khaki’s, polo, my favorite Doc Martens. For those who know me, this qualifies as “dressed up!” I mean, the polo was even tucked in!

As the bridal party was gathering, the father of the bride introduced himself and started asking some questions: “Where’s the altar? Where’s the kneeling rail? Where do people get saved?”

Based on his line of questioning, I had a pretty good idea of the type of church this gentleman attended. We had a nice conversation about worship styles and ministry approaches. It seemed like the conversation was coming to a close when we both agreed that keeping Jesus as the focus is what’s most important.

Then he made a statement that was more puzzling than anything else. “You don’t look like a pastor.”

I implied that I’d rather “live and be” like a pastor than just keep up the appearance of a pastor and then asked, “So, what exactly does that mean?”

He replied, “Oh, you know…suit and tie, clean shaven, slick backed hair, that kind of stuff.”

Now, to be fair, my hair was in a bit of a wild state as I was in the middle of a wager to grow my hair out like chef Hubert Keller.

I’ve always embraced an attitude of, “this is who I am, so this is what you’ll get” when it comes to my pastoral “style.” Whether it’s my attire, my use of humor/sarcasm, my early onset grumpiness, my proclamation that I have one suit and I only wear it for weddings, funerals, and to ask for large sums of money, or my desire to help us not take ourselves too seriously, I really just don’t care that much what others think.

While I believe we should take care of ourselves so that we are healthy enough to serve, I’m not sure God truly desires that we place too much pride in our appearance. In fact, 1 Samuel 16:7 pretty much confirms my assumption, “…Humans see only what is visible to the eyes, but the Lord sees into the heart.”

And, most church-going Christians will agree, “it’s the heart that matters most.” But, far too many are still convinced that we need to come in our “Sunday best.”

I remember hearing a colleague share about a member who pulled him aside to announce his disappointment in one of the younger members church attire. The person announced that he felt it was disrepectful to wear jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers to a worship service. “That’s no way to honor God,” the man stated.

My friend replied, “Well, I’m not sure if you are aware of this, but that person is wearing $500 designer jeans, $1,200 sneakers, and is one of our most faithful and generous members. And, he shows up early every Sunday to lead our high school Bible study.” Now, I’m not sure he should have talked about the persons generosity…but I know he was just trying to humble (and shut up) the grumpy member.

Some have suggested that we dress in a way that reflects our context. Well, the most direct neighbors to our church would probably be the people sleeping in our alley or across the street at the mission. Wearing a suit and tie just might feel a bit out of touch. Down the street is the “business sector.” 15 years ago, the suit and tie would have been more prevalent, but today even the business sector has become more casual. If I see someone in a suit and tie, I assume they are on their way to court!

I mean, the largest and fastest growing churches in my local context are some of the most casual, informal churches I’ve ever visited. Some of the pastors and worship leaders in these congregations look like they just got out of their pontoon or were in the background of a Justin Bieber video. I mean, my only question is why are Dahmer glasses (wire-rimmed, double-bridged, aviator-style frames) so popular among evangelical megachurch pastors?

Maybe it isn’t about attire after all?

I mean, just exactly who are we trying to impress? God or our neighbor? I don’t think anyone could convince me that those who “dress up” score more points with God than those who don’t.

It’s not about being hip and cool…it’s not about our Sunday best…it’s about being ourselves – being who God created us to be.

So, whether you are a suit and tie, dress and hat, jeans and t-shirt, formal, informal or business casual type person, just be yourself! I’m conviced that God prefers that we all “be” the part than “look” the part.