Swimming in Evangelical Water

In 2005 David Foster Wallace delivered a commencement speech at Kenyon College called This Is Water. He opened with a parable:

There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” 

And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”

Wallace was attacking an uncritical egoism, moving through life with naive certainty; something that happens when we’re unaware of our default assumptions. This self-foregrounding limits our ability to understand others. Since we’re not the only fish in the sea, and we have agency in how we encounter life, Wallace was pleading with his audience to practice epistemic humility.

Wallace was not presuming to be the older fish. Neither am I. But, like the late writer, I’m urging us to notice the water, especially as it relates to evangelicalism and the Great Commission.

The Aquariums We Don’t Realize We’re Swimming In

In Finding Dory, we’re offered a window into what culture is and how to engage it. It’s the tale of Dory, an endearing fish with memory loss. Her mission is locating lost family. She teams up with Hank the octopus, memorably voiced by Ed O’Neill. As a child of the 90s, I can’t help but refer to him as Al Bundy. They end up at a massive SeaWorld-like complex called the Marine Life Institute.

The Institute isn’t one giant tank, it’s made up of a number of crudely interconnected aquariums. In their search, Dory and Hank move from the whale exhibit to a tide pool, and so on. Each setting is its own little world, replete with different ecosystems, from rocky caves to varying temperatures and distinct pH levels. These settings aren’t just for display. They provide the very conditions of life; oxygenated water, food, shelter, and community. The waters are the mediums through which the creatures encounter the world. Which brings out the point of the illustration: basically everything is culture. Often unquestioned, it is the container of our existence, the arena of our mission.

This is not an argument for relativism but a sober acknowledgment that everyone is cultured in one way or another. If my aquarium were ancient paganism and a hurricane tore through the coast, I might think, “Poseidon’s at it again!” But my modern setting, disenchanted and steeped in meteorology, reads the storm differently. Even as we face universal realities like birth and death, we have default modes of thinking and feeling that are tied to unique conceptions of the good life. Without awareness or consent, we’re shaped by our environment. If the tank is polluted, it is usually absorbed. When the water is muddy, it becomes harder to see, especially beyond ourselves.

In a vacuum, we grimace when Christians syncretize the faith. I’ve done it too, even when I should have known better. It’s tricky because we evangelicals typically find ourselves in what James K.A. Smith calls, “homogeneous zones of shared belief.” As such, our ‘normal’–predominantly white churches, conservatism, individualism, being middle class, and nuclear families–can be jarring for outsiders. In fact, many of my non-evangelical and non-white friends don’t see us in theological terms (i.e. Bebbington’s quadrilateral) but sociologically, as a subculture outfitted for a certain type of person. 

This isn’t to say that all aspects of evangelicalism are problematic; statistically we shine in generosity and volunteerism. Theologically, we aspire to submit to Scripture and to be guided by historic Christian teaching. Rather, it’s acknowledging that we are necessarily formed by what we hold in common socially. Since homogeneity naturally creates blind spots and cultural ignorance is a form of self-centeredness, it’s not surprising that those who don’t fit the mold are repelled for non-theological reasons.

What Makes Culture, Culture?

Though culture has been studied with great care by academics, missionaries, policymakers, and marketers, it’s one of those words we still use imprecisely. Imagine an alien lands on Earth, tilts its curious green head, and asks you: “Earthling, what is culture?” What would you say? Is it a place on a map? A collection of vibes? Accents? The (not so) subtle difference between people? The word feminist has the same three syllables everywhere, but it’s usually celebrated on campus and vilified in the manosphere. What about symbols (e.g., stars and bars), or the meanings we assign to colors (e.g., red versus blue?) Or, should colors be spelled ‘colours’?

At a basic level, a dictionary will tell you culture involves the customs, institutions, and achievements of a social group. As for criteria, there are at least five salient elements. 

First, cultures are both material and ideological. Food, clothing, and architecture coexist with non-material realities like values and beliefs. These items sum up to form what Mark Sayers refers to as a “street philosophy”: intuitive assumptions about how the world works and how to live in it. An invisible guide that governs how we think and behave. To advance my argument here, I’ve been socialized to offer logic and allegory. Were I a medieval samurai, I might attack with a sword.

Second, cultures are shared. They are held in common and tacitly agreed upon through collective experiences, customs, practices, and assumptions. Modifiers like “youth” or “Amish” culture are meaningful because they describe a common paradigm. Even as I write this, and you read, we do so from culture. Font and grammar won’t gain traction without a shared reality.

Third, cultures are learned. Even though they feel natural, we acquire them directly through parenting and storytelling, indirectly through observation and inherited norms. We learn how to dress, take turns, whisper in libraries, and what counts as polite or strange. Watching Tom Green order a sandwich illustrates how cringe comedy depends on violating the non-moral expectations we’ve been trained to obey. Sociologists describe this process as socialization: internalizing life scripts that render patterns and values invisible precisely because they seem intuitive and normal.

Fourth, cultures are religious. This doesn’t mean every culture maps neatly onto a formal set of creeds, but that even secular cultures produce architecture for ultimate reality. Cultures assign meaning, draw lines between what’s clean and unclean, and functionally tell us what the world is and what it’s for. It’s no accident that the Latin root of culture is cultus, a term tied to cult worship. In the ancient world, the epicenter of social life was formed around temples and the gods they served. Culture is therefore a liturgical environment that trains our desires and loyalties. Today, such worship might show up in flags, slogans, sports arenas, dream homes, or curated bodies. Though specific expressions vary, the essence of worship remains.

Finally, cultures are taken for granted. People rarely question the culture they belong to, especially those of us who inhabit dominant or mainstream cultures. Assumptions easily go unnoticed because they’re so entrenched. That’s why tourists stick out like a sore thumb and why an odd sandwich order makes us cringe.

Culture in Scripture

English translations of the Bible virtually never use the noun “culture,” but it is saturated with concepts essential to the term: customs, traditions, symbolism, marriage rites, styles of dress, kinship, and practices that relate to honor and shame. Scripture speaks of distinct peoples, clans, languages, and nations. For instance, the ‘table of nations’ in Genesis 10 describes how the descendants of Noah’s sons spread:

“From these descendants, the peoples of the coasts and islands spread out into their lands according to their clans in their nations, each with its own language.” (Gen. 10:5, CSB).

Scripture does not depict humanity as a bland monolith—or worse, as somehow without culture. Rather, we are richly differentiated. That theme carries forward into the Great Commission. When Jesus sent His followers out, He commanded them to make disciples of all nations [ethnē] (Matt. 28:19). Note well: the Greek term ethnē does not refer to political nation-states but complex groupings that exist within and across political borders. 

Jesus’ command to make disciples of all stripes means we aren’t ultimately called to spread a preferred (and fallen) paradigm, but to minister to acculturated peoples wherever and however they’re found. Regardless of the container that houses them, sinful humans need the reconciliation and life that only our Savior provides. That’s why throughout the Bible, even in Israel’s call to be a light to the nations (Isaiah 46:9), God’s plan has always been multi-ethnic. Positively, cultures can be understood as communal expressions of God’s wisdom, glory, and creativity—sites where God intends to be present and worshiped. In God’s program cultures are features, not bugs.

Four Approaches to Culture

In his book, To Change the World: The Irony, Tragedy, and Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World, James Davison Hunter charted the four main ways Christians have been oriented toward culture:

(1) Defensive against fights to protect Christianity from secularism and recover or institute a perceived lost Christian society; think dominionism, theonomy, or the culture warriors who police the internet and public square. 

(2) Relevance to essentially audits Christianity according to the prevailing moral order. Becoming Chameleon-like, the faith can serve immanent purposes that champion things expressive individualism or therapeutic support. 

(3) Purity from emphasizes separation from corrupt ideas and sinful lifestyles to preserve piety and devotion. This is overprotection through withdrawal; sequestered institutions and parallel media, tailored for holy-huddles.

Finally, Hunter’s preferred alternative is (4) faithful presence within. This happens when, through mundane work, regular relationships, and everyday life, believers embody Christ’s posture of ‘being in but not of the world.’ In the thick of public-facing lives, we pursue flourishing and advance the Gospel without dominance, acquiescence, or escapism. 

Discerning the Water  

In Finding Dory, Dory’s parents taught her a rhyme to help her stay safe from dangerous currents. They used a simple rhyme:“We see the undertow and we say: ‘Heck no!’” But instead, and forgetful as ever, Dory’s response was, “Let’s go!”Aren’t we just like that? Going with the flow even when our Father has advised caution? 

Unseen currents can distract us with entertainment. Pull us toward searching for identity in social media. Hustle culture tempts us to measure ourselves by productivity, spinning our tires in perpetual overcommitment. We may also drift toward what insiders want to hear (2 Tim. 4:1-5). For instance, white evangelicals generally accept challenging sex ethics and abortion, but voicing concern about ICE raids, preemptive war, or a pugilistic leader’s character (who 82% of us voted for) can feel off-brand, even scandalous. 

It’s also easy for churches to be swept up by market impulses that fetishize low-cost and easily-consumed Christianity; the gods of growth and market-share then short-circuit our prophetic voice. Even if it is just at a gut-level, we know upholding the status quo translates into giving and butts in seats. Yet, what works for the majority can be a barrier that prevents homogeneous congregations from attracting and retaining our young, non-white, and ideologically-diverse neighbors (e.g., see Pew’s findings on Politics).

Conclusion

This is the question that grips my heart: in an age that is spiritually open (at least theoretically), what if there is something in the water we’re not noticing that causes people to see Christianity as implausible? Put propositionally, conflating historic Christianity with cultural idiosyncrasies might just be a non-starter for folks who might otherwise be open. 

Navigating a pluralistic society is difficult for everyone. As for me, I have more questions than answers. But what I do know is that culture is the only place mission exists and forgetful fish need constant reminders about what their mission is (Luke 19:10; Matthew 4:19). Which is why even a thick definition of culture won’t suffice. We need a theology of culture—one that takes seriously the waters we’re swimming in. 

This is water. May we notice how and to whom we swim.