7 Confessions of Hipster Christian

Chris —  December 17, 2013

No one ever wants to be identified as a hipster. Especially hipsters.

I came to peace with my own unavoidable hipster-ness in June of 2011. It was already over 100 degrees in the nations seventh most hipster neighborhood of East Austin. I was listening to NPR when I decided to ride my bike to a coffee shop. But, before I could leave, I would have to cut my old pair of jeans into shorts.

jorts

Slicing through denim, I mumbled under my breath “Chris, you are such a #*%! hipster.”

Another time, I was sitting in a coffee shop drinking a Milk Stout (on nitro) at five in the afternoon, rapidly underlining every word of a Stanley Hauerwas tome, it occurred to me “Chris, you’re such a #*%! Christian hipster.”

Hipsters are quick to point out that we loose something fundamentally human when we lose the ability to make our own goods or form our own opinions. The twin tragedy of bland suburbia and relentless consumerism is that we have everything we need, except for an identity.

There are a lot of good criticisms that have been aimed at the modern American church. Too political, too judgemental, too “corporate.” I tend to agree, and I’ve lobbed a few of these criticisms myself.

There is a dirty secret behind my criticisms: they often have more to do with my personal, yes, hipster taste. This leads me to believe that a lot of our arguments as a larger church have very little to do with theology and the mission of God, and more to do with personal preference and the desire to “be on a team.”

Perhaps in confessing my own hipster faults, I can critique myself, and make some important observations about the larger church, as well.

Confession #1: I like my hipster music.

Hipsters are known for only liking obscure music. It shouldn’t be surprising that many younger Christians, burned out by family-friendly stadium rock wannabes would be quick to point out their disdain for Christian music.

Here’s a good argument against the whitewashed sounds marketed as Christian Music: We serve a creator God, yet our churches often sound like cover bands. Jesus and Paul spoke in the parlance of Galilee and the Mediterranean, but our music speaks to the local culture.

This is true, and a missionally minded church should take it seriously. But it’s not why I dislike Christian music. I also can’t stand Top 40. I just prefer my obscure hipster music. I’ll take Neutral Milk Hotel over K-Love any time of the week.

Confession #2: I enjoy the liberal media.

When I moved from Denver (marajuana for everybody!) to the Bible Belt (sex leads to dancing.) for college, I discovered something I didn’t know about my childhood: I had been raised on a steady diet of liberal media! Unbeknownst to me, my family’s preference for the in-depth approach of the PBS Newshour or NPR’s All Things Considered was considered by some a statement of morals.

There’s a lot of talk about how millennials are a bunch of liberals. But it’s not the whole story. Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert are also just plain likeable. A lot of other media feels combative and fear driven.

It does not pride me to say that these days I get most of my news from This American Life and Mashable. My taste in media has less to do with economic policy or the rights of the unborn, and more to do with what I think is interesting.

Confession #3: I judge people who wear ties.

My first moment of shame over my own hipster Christianity occurred when I saw a man at my church in a suit and tie. Immediately I thought “who does he think he is coming in here, dressed like that?”

Years before, I had rebelled against the “Sunday’s best” mentality. Suits had been replaced with pearls snap shirts, but the judgemental attitude had not gone away.

Scripture teaches time and again that God judges our hearts. My preference for the hipster uniform is a clear sign that I have yet to take God seriously on this one.

Confession #4: I judge teetotallers.

Richard Beck has pointed out that post-evangelicals like to drink. A lot. One problem is that

when you drink you signal that you are more enlightened than those conservative Christians with bad atonement theology. These feelings of theological superiority can become such an important source of self-esteem that we begin to intellectually invest in our drinking, cultivating a peer status of connoisseur…For these Christians, it’s not just that they drink, it’s that they drink well.

The fact is that Jesus turned water into wine. Paul touted the health value of a good red.

Let’s just drink in moderation (or not drink) because we like it (or don’t). My preference is for dark beers. A porter or stout, especially when it’s cold outside.

Confession #5: I more easily trust non-Christians.

For some reason, it’s hard to trust Christians. I’m always afraid they are judging me for what they assume my politics are, or what I’m wearing, or how old I am. Many of the Christians I’ve known were upper middle class suburbanites, and I’ve never been able to keep up with the Jesus Joneses.

Then there’s this weird Christian sheen. It’s like a forced optimism, bolstered by churchy sounding words. Some people come across like they think the world is a Thomas Kincade painting.

I wish I could say that my missional-incarnational impulse had led me to focus on creating relationships with non-Christians. The honest truth is that sometimes they sometimes seem more authentic.

Confession #6: I have taken stands that I cannot prove 100% with scriptural support.

There are some people who believe they know exactly what the Bible teaches on major issues. They can give you scripture and verse for their theology, ecclesiology and even their politics.

It’s best for me to avoid such arguments because I will lose.

For me, scripture is a narrative. It’s a story that doesn’t always make sense. Some parts are prescriptive. Some parts are descriptive. Huge sections are poetic. All are products of a long dead culture. All I can do is try to apply the teachings of Jesus, in light of the narrative arc of scripture, to my own situation.

At the end, all I can say is “this is what seems best.” But let’s be honest, isn’t that what we all do?

Confession #7: I really hate being incarnational.

Being incarnational is a lot of work. It requires learning languages and cultures. First your own, and then that of scripture. Combine that with the leading of the Holy Spirit and you get an authentic representation of Jesus for your own time and place.

The world desperately needs the church to say, as Paul did in his day, that we will become all things to all people in order that we might win some.

I have taken stands and even judged other people in the name of being incarnational. But it’s really hard. It’s a lot easier to do what I prefer. When I wrap my opinion in hipster criticism, it feels less like apathy and more like doing something meaningful and different. Maybe it is…at least, to other hipsters….

Let’s all confess together: we each have things we like. It’s the first step to admitting that aren’t God. If we can admit that, maybe we can stop fighting for our preferences and join the mission of God.

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