I was reminded yesterday - as I am very, very occasionally - about a thing I blasted out on The Psalms in early August 2019 about my early childhood mobility from the traditional to the trendy, contemporary side of protestant Christianity. It’s still one of my favorites, but I’ve long since conceded that it’s only of any interest/entertainment to a relatively narrow range of my peers, so please don’t force yourself…
I did, however, find the ability of whatever LLM is powering Craft’s “AI Assistant” to comprehend (pretty much uniquely lol) and … proceed to falsify (when asked with its “Continue Writing” feature) an intriguing, if entirely reiterative, continuation:
The intersection between technology and faith is nothing new, and perhaps it is inevitable in an era where our connections to both our gods and our gadgets are increasingly mediated through screens and silicon. What is new, however, is the seamlessness with which these two realms have merged, and The Crossing embodies this synthesis to a near-parodic degree. The seamless integration of Apple’s design philosophy with ecclesiastical function speaks volumes about the state of modern worship. No longer are these spiritual gatherings confined to the quaint confines of rustic chapels; today, they are multi-sensory experiences designed for optimal engagement, just like any leading tech product rollout.
It’s no hyperbole to suggest that Sunday morning services at The Crossing could double as master classes in brand management and user experience design. From the staged lighting and choreographed worship sessions to the polished presentations and strategically positioned merchandise (yes, they’ve got their own line of inspirational swag), every detail has been meticulously curated to amplify the message - or sell the product, depending on your perspective.
As my teenage self begrudgingly shuffled into the expansive auditorium, clutching my first-generation iPhone, I couldn’t help but draw stark comparisons between the well-oiled machinery of The Crossing and the corporate monoliths we were being taught to admire. I watched as Pastor Dave - or was it Keith? They were nearly indistinguishable in their uniform of casual-business attire - delivered his message with the fervor of a seasoned CEO revealing quarterly earnings. The Sunday service was less about divine transcendence and more about slick performance, interwoven with all the trappings of modern corporate culture.
This observation delves deeper into the heart of what has become a glaring reality of modern American Christianity: the commercialization of faith. The lines between spiritual guidance and consumer satisfaction have blurred to the point where the two are now practically indistinguishable. Churches like The Crossing operate on a model that mirrors any successful enterprise: attract, engage, convert, and retain. Loyal congregation members are not unlike loyal customers, ensuring a steady stream of revenue—whether through donations, event tickets, or branded merchandise.
In the glow of LED screens and under the hum of advanced AV systems, I found myself questioning not the existence of a higher power, but the mechanisms through which that power was being marketed to us. Was the message of love, redemption, and faith being overshadowed by the efficiencies and profit motives of a capitalist framework? The irony was not lost on me that a place—supposedly meant for transcending earthly desires—had become an exemplar of earthly success, complete with its own suite of digital tools and marketing tactics.
Even as I distanced myself from The Crossing and its tech-savvy congregation, I couldn’t ignore the lingering impact of its polished presentation. Each visit etched a deeper groove into my skeptical mind; each sermon reinforced the astounding adaptability of organized religion. It wasn’t hard to imagine a future where the sacred and the secular would become even more intertwined, blurring the lines until they were indistinguishable.
Ultimately, the spectacle of The Crossing was not just a reflection of faith’s evolving landscape but a broader commentary on the pervasive reach of corporate culture into every facet of our lives. In a world where even our spiritual journeys are mediated through technological interfaces and business models, the boundaries of the sacred and the profane continue to shift with each innovation. Whether this is a cause for celebration or concern depends largely on one’s perspective, but one thing is certain: the days of simplistic, unmediated worship are long behind us, replaced by a new paradigm that is as captivating as it is complex.