What Would Jesus Think of His Marketing Department?

When faith becomes a brand, who gets to define the mission?

Christ Driving the Money Changers from the Temple, El Greco, c. 1570. Minneapolis Institute of Art. Public domain.

Jesus, who famously overturned the tables of the money changers, now has a marketing department.

I recently came across a job posting for a Director of Organizational Communications at a Christian organization. As someone who has spent much of my career in corporate communications, I naturally took a look.

The salary was generous, the benefits impressive, and the opening paragraph sounded like a cross between a corporate recruiting pitch and an expedition to the South Pole. Prospective employees were warned that the headwinds were real, public opinion was loud, and a safe return to the status quo was doubtful.

Apparently, they're hiring a communications director to accompany Shackleton on his next expedition.

But what really caught my attention was the application requirement. Candidates were asked to submit a 300–500-word essay responding to this question:

How did the world's greatest love story become known as a hate group?

Well, pull up a chair. We might be here awhile.

Because it's an excellent question, but I wonder whether the people asking it are prepared to consider all the possible answers.

Somewhere between "Love your neighbor as yourself" and the modern business of organized Christianity, a remarkable amount of institutional machinery has accumulated. There are marketing campaigns, brand strategies, executive leadership teams, and fundraising departments.

And yet, for all this professional expertise, Christianity continues to struggle with a reputation problem.

Perhaps it's time to consider whether the problem is really the messaging.

When the Brand and the Product Don't Match

In corporate communications, there's a fundamental principle that no amount of clever messaging can overcome: if what an organization says about itself is consistently contradicted by what it actually does, eventually people will notice.

You can spend millions on advertising, hire the finest storytellers and develop compelling brand narratives. But if your customers' experiences contradict your promises, you've got a problem no communications director can fix.

The same principle applies to Christianity.

Jesus left us a fairly comprehensive set of brand guidelines, if you'll forgive the corporate analogy. Love God. Love your neighbor. Love your enemies. Feed the hungry. Welcome the stranger. Forgive those who wrong you. Care for the poor, the sick, the imprisoned and the marginalized.

And, perhaps most inconveniently, refrain from judging others while remaining spectacularly unaware of your own shortcomings.

These aren't obscure theological footnotes. They're central themes of the Gospels.

Yet some of the most visible expressions of Christianity today can seem more preoccupied with defining who belongs, exercising political influence, and policing behavior than with demonstrating the radical compassion Jesus taught.

As I explored in an earlier essay on Christian identity and practice, there's an important difference between identifying as a Christian and actually attempting to live according to Christ's teachings.

The theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously distinguished between cheap grace and costly discipleship. The latter demands something of us. It's not enough to claim the Christian label; faith should transform how we live and treat other people.

Jesus Had a Mission Statement, Too

What's particularly interesting to me, as both a Christian and a communications professional, is that Jesus was remarkably clear about his mission.

In Luke 4:18–19, he reads from Isaiah, proclaiming good news to the poor, freedom for prisoners, sight for the blind and liberation for the oppressed.

As I discussed in another earlier essay, the idea that social justice is somehow incompatible with Christianity requires overlooking some fairly substantial portions of scripture.

Jesus challenged religious authorities who prioritized rigid interpretations of the law while neglecting mercy and compassion. He spent time with people considered socially undesirable. He touched lepers. He ate with tax collectors and sinners. And when religious authorities tried to trap him into condemning a woman accused of adultery, he challenged her accusers to examine their own sins.

That last one seems particularly relevant today.

Christians needn't agree on every theological question or political policy. But surely the fundamental obligation to treat other people with dignity, compassion and love shouldn't be particularly controversial.

And yet, here we are.

Can You Market Your Way to Authenticity?

This brings me back to that job posting.

The organization is Come Near, the group behind the He Gets Us advertising campaign. Its stated mission is to invite people one step closer to Jesus.

That's a worthy objective. I'm not suggesting the organization or its employees are insincere. I don't know them, and a job advertisement is hardly sufficient evidence on which to make that judgment.

But the posting illustrates a fascinating tension.

Come Near seeks someone who demonstrates critical thinking, intellectual curiosity, and exceptional communications skills. At the same time, candidates must sign and comply with its Statement of Faith.

Those requirements aren't necessarily incompatible. Every mission-driven organization has values it expects employees to support.

But what happens when critical thinking leads to uncomfortable conclusions?

What if an employee sincerely believes certain organizational practices contradict Jesus's teachings? Is that employee encouraged to raise concerns? Does leadership engage in genuine discussion, or does the Statement of Faith effectively settle the matter before the conversation begins?

And who gets to decide which interpretation of Jesus is authentic?

As a communications professional, I can tell you that the most difficult conversations often aren't with skeptical external audiences. They're the internal ones, when leadership's preferred narrative collides with an uncomfortable reality.

A good communications director can help an organization articulate its values.

A great communications director can tell leadership when the organization isn't living up to them. Whether leadership welcomes that conversation is another matter entirely.

The Problem With Self-Righteousness

I think one of Christianity's greatest reputational challenges is the tendency of some believers to confuse moral conviction with moral superiority.

There's a profound difference between believing something is true and believing that your possession of that truth makes you superior to everyone who disagrees.

As it turns out, Jesus had quite a bit to say about that distinction.

In the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector in Luke 18, the Pharisee thanks God that he isn't like other people. The tax collector simply acknowledges his own sin and asks for mercy.

Jesus makes it abundantly clear which man's attitude he finds more acceptable.

Perhaps We Should Spend Less Time Defending the Brand

If I were advising a Christian organization interested in understanding its reputation problem, my first recommendation wouldn't be an advertising campaign.

I'd suggest beginning with an honest assessment of whether its behavior reflects its professed values.

Are we demonstrating the compassion we preach? Are we welcoming the people Jesus welcomed? Are we willing to listen when people tell us they've been hurt by our institutions? Do we acknowledge our mistakes?

And, perhaps most importantly, are we genuinely interested in understanding why people distrust us, or are we primarily interested in persuading them that they're wrong?

That distinction matters.

Christianity doesn't need to abandon its convictions to engage thoughtfully with criticism. But neither should it treat every challenge as hostility or every uncomfortable question as evidence of persecution.

Sometimes the people pointing out contradictions between an organization's professed values and its conduct are doing that organization a huge favor.

There's a word for that kind of uncomfortable truth-telling in the biblical tradition: prophecy.

And historically, the people in charge haven't always appreciated it.

After all, Jesus didn’t tell his followers that the world would recognize them by the sophistication of their communications strategies.

He said they would be known by their love for one another.

Perhaps the solution to Christianity’s public relations problem isn’t a better communications strategy.

Perhaps it’s better Christianity.