Stand-Up Theology: Presenting the Gospel through Cultural Connection
The following is an excerpt from an interview with pastor Tim Vreugdenhil on City to City’s How to Reach the West Again podcast. In the discussion, Vreugdenhil describes a creative form of evangelism that has led him to reimagine Christian formation in a secular context.
BRANDON J. O’BRIEN: You live in Amsterdam in the Netherlands. Are you from Amsterdam originally, or did you move into the city?
TIM VREUGDENHIL: I moved to Amsterdam 20 years ago. I was raised in the countryside to the east, and I studied theology in smaller cities. I had no experience with big cities until I moved to Berlin for a year and lived right in the middle of the German capital. That was a bit of a risk. At first, I didn't know anybody. But after three weeks, I was able to feel at home in a city of 5 million people. I had a very good year.
At that point, I knew nothing about city-focused theology. But intuitively, I thought, "I think I'm a city kid. I should live in a big city." I was very, very lucky to get my first job as a pastor in an Amsterdam suburb—that was my reason to move to a city like I wanted. Now, my wife and I tell each other we would be happy to stay here forever. Of course, one can change their mind, but it's good to feel at home, and it's all the better that your spouse agrees with you.
BJO: Do you feel a significant cultural difference between the suburbs of Amsterdam and the center of the city where you live now?
TV: There are indeed differences. I think the most important difference is that the city is always busy. The suburbs are popular because nothing happens—literally. People just live there, sleep there, and that's fine and good—but everybody who wants to do something or experience something comes to the city center.
The city center is also very diverse. My family and I currently live in the most multi-ethnic neighborhood of the whole city. I think 170 nationalities all live within a couple of square kilometers. The public school my children go to is very multicultural. In the suburbs, that's a different story.
BJO: Amsterdam has a long-standing reputation of being a bastion of free thought and a forerunner of secularism. How does that affect the neighborhood where you live and serve? What does the spiritual climate look like?
TV: Since early on in Amsterdam’s history, there’s been a place in this town for everybody. People from France, for example, were not allowed to confess Protestant beliefs in their own country. Amsterdam invited them with open arms. Jewish people from Spain also found a place here. So we do not have only a history of liberalism but also a history of creating hospitality for newcomers.
That's not the whole story, of course, but sometimes it moves me to tears that, for example, our daughters are classmates with the children of an Afghani family that moved to the Netherlands. Of course, they worry about their relatives in Afghanistan. But they made it; they're really part of our culture, and they’re contributing to our society.
I think that multi-culturalism is part of Amsterdam, both spiritual and otherwise. The fight to create hospitality is in our roots.
BJO: Some Western countries, such as America, like to celebrate a cultural “melting pot” that has a place for everyone. But at the same time, many Christians become anxious to know how to navigate and communicate the gospel among these various cultures and worldviews.
TV: Yes. To me, it is not frightening. If we frame the challenge as a cultural battle between values or religions, then yes, it is frightening that so many newcomers come to your country. In that case, Christians and churches in Amsterdam would presume we are at the very end of the battle—and in a position to lose. Church attendance is low. The majority of Amsterdam’s people aren’t involved in Christianity at all. Of course, that is a difficult position for us to be in. But that just means we have to change our framework. It doesn’t put me in a position of being frightened because there's almost nothing for us to lose. We're living in the margins, and that can be a very interesting position for spiritual development and for simply spreading the basic ideas of Christianity.
We're living in the margins, and that can be a very interesting position for spiritual development and for simply spreading the basic ideas of Christianity.
Another line of argumentation is this one: I don’t think the church was ever in a position to compete with secularism in this society. We were never an equal counterpart. The basic story is secularism turned out to be more attractive and so on. And since a lot of Dutch Christians aren’t used to being able to compete with secular culture, an influx of newcomers with different religions isn’t necessarily the frightening part.
Now, it is a really interesting way of life. When I wake up and bring my children to school, about 80% of the people there wear different clothes and speak different languages. I cannot deny that, even if this is not immediately frightening, it's at least strange. Sometimes it's irritating. Sometimes it actually is frightening, like when my daughter, who is the only child with a Dutch identity in a classroom of about 17, says, "Dad, I feel alone. Nobody is like me."
These feelings are natural. You don’t want to be alone, in the end, where nobody understands you, nobody speaks your language, nobody cooks your food, and so on. So, I have a bit of understanding for the cultural concerns about defending your own country and so on. I thought myself a city kid who says, “Come, let's be open to everybody.” But it's an interesting learning process to actually see it in your own environment.
BJO: We interviewed one of your countrymen, Stefan Paas, who mentioned that your culture’s attitude toward Christianity isn’t actually antagonistic—almost because they believe the religion isn’t a prominent enough part of society to be angry about. What's the advantage of having that marginal role in culture?
TV: First of all, the benefit is there is new ground for what I would call creative theology or creative apologetics. There is much theological work that addresses the typical secular mindset, one that attacks Christianity and its basic ideas and so on. For us, that attitude is gone. Most of my secular friends have no thoughts about the question, “Is there a God or not?” There is no question for them.
So if there is an opportunity to bring the word “God” into play, I can help them shape their first thoughts about the idea of God by sharing what I believe. Why is he helpful? Do I really feel connected to someone of a higher reality? And people are listening. People are really interested. Someone in an environment where everyone is used to the idea of God may feel like a Christian wants to sell them something. If they've seen it 10 times, they may think, "Oh no, not that again. I've seen that before," and so on. But here it's brand new. People have not seen it. So it’s more likely for them to say, "Tell me, what are you trying to sell? What is it used for?" It creates a more open environment of listening and asking questions. That's the benefit of the situation we are in.
BJO: My introduction to your ministry came shortly after the release of your book Stand-up Theology, which is an example of that creative kind of apologetics that you're talking about. Can you describe that project for us?
TV: Sure. I've been working as a pastor for about 15 years. In that period of time, I put a lot of effort into preparing sermons. I like to write sermons, to preach sermons. And I did a lot of things to improve my style of communication and my theology and my relevance and so on.
One day, I realized that I was putting so much effort into something that didn't fit most of my cultural context. In other words, almost no one in Amsterdam wakes up on Sunday morning and thinks, "Oh, there's nothing to do. Let's go to church." It simply doesn't happen. But people are looking for inspiration in so many ways, offline or online.
Sometimes non-Christians showed up to my church as friends or relatives. They didn't respond too much to the liturgy, the prayers, or especially the singing. But most of the time they responded to the sermons in a very positive way. They made a connection with it and said, "It's interesting: that was a sermon for me, and I'm not a Christian."
So I thought, “What would happen if I took the sermon out of the worship service and preached it on a Thursday evening?” And I did just that. I rented an empty church in the city. And an idea came to my mind: everybody knows what stand-up comedy is—it’s a sort of freestyle, an art where people stand on stage with their ideas.
In Amsterdam, there's also a concept called stand-up philosophy. There are people who are able to talk about Nietzsche or Schopenhauer in a way that's interesting to people who don’t know anything about Nietzsche or Schopenhauer. I thought if that was possible, it should be possible to do it with theology: the idea of stand-up theology was there!
In our context, stand-up theology is a very helpful way for secular people who aren’t showing up on Sunday morning to engage with the gospel.
So, I put it into practice. Each stand-up theology session has a theme. It can be “FOMO: The Fear of Missing Out” or “Love in the Times of Tinder” or “Who Saves the Climate?” or whatever. And then I just sell tickets. Normally, 40 to 60 people show up. I talk for about an hour, asking questions and making jokes along the way. Sometimes I stop and a musician takes over. And then I'm done. After the event, people are free to respond and give their comments to each other. It's in the style of the theater. People come for inspiration, and because they buy a ticket, they buy the right to like it or dislike it. And in that role of the performer, I'm totally free to speak about biblical sources, philosophical questions about God, and—in the end—my personal beliefs. For example, if it's Easter or Christmas, I'm very happy to tell them what the holiday means to me. In our context, stand-up theology is a very helpful way for secular people who aren’t showing up on Sunday morning to engage with the gospel.
BJO: At these events, you don’t have church members coming voluntarily so much as you have people arriving as audience members who purchased a ticket. How does that change the relationship between you and the audience?
TV: One of the helpful things is that we are acting as equals. If I'm speaking about Jesus on the street, everybody thinks I'm a missionary. If I ask people to buy a ticket for €15 and talk about the same things, people think I'm allowed to do that because I'm talking in an interesting way about my personal beliefs. It's a change of scenery that makes people more willing to listen. And then there are the laws of theaters. If I buy a ticket, I have expectations—and I have the freedom to like or dislike whatever the artist or speaker does. I can say, "Oh, that was incredible,” or I can say, “Well, I paid €15 and that performance wasn’t very good tonight…" I encourage my audience to give their opinion afterward. Most of the time, they're very positive. This setting helps them feel free to say, "This is not what I expected."
Those are all helpful in creating a good environment of understanding even while I'm still onstage talking about spiritual themes, biblical stories, and my personal beliefs: it's all in the program.
BJO: How did you decide which topics are the most relevant or important for you to address?
TV: I would say it's a gut feeling, but that's not totally true because I'm trained as a minister to connect the biblical message to everything happening in reality, in newspapers, and on social media. So there’s a trained mindset of looking for the gospel’s relevance in everyday life. But you can also just pick up on what everyone is talking about and think, "Oh, everybody's talking about the fear of missing out now."
I never did any official polling, but I asked people questions, especially if they found the stand-up theology helpful. “Do you have anything on your mind that you would like me to talk about someday?” And I'm very eager to assess trending reports and influential television programs. I see possible themes all the time and have booklets where I make notes—especially if see a word or a situation, then see it again three days later, then see it again the next week.
When I made the Fear of Missing Out session three or four years ago, almost nobody in the Netherlands knew about it. So I started by saying, "Do you know what FOMO is all about?"
They responded, "No. Never heard of it."
"It’s the fear of missing out," I responded.
And finally: "Yeah, I didn't know the word, but I understand the feeling. I have it all the time."
That type of interaction is helpful when communicating the gospel because you show that you understand what's going on in your culture, or that you are curious about it and want to understand what's going on.
BJO: How do you take an almost universal feeling like the fear of missing out and find a way to engage it with the gospel?
TV: In my case, this works in two stages most of the time. In the first stage, I remember a thought from the philosopher Charles Taylor, who says in his big volume A Secular Age that late-modern Western people are well-equipped for almost everything, but they find it hard to access moral and spiritual sources. And then he describes the effects of that. So my starting point is always that these people, my audience, are well-educated and very good at understanding but do not have the right access to moral and spiritual sources. That's what I bring into play. It could be secular moral sources—someone who is a good example, a helpful story of a hero. And I also offer spiritual sources in a rich variety. That's my first stage.
My starting point is always that these people, my audience, are well-educated and very good at understanding but do not have the right access to moral and spiritual sources.
The second stage is to apply it to the theme—for example, FOMO. Do I know a relevant biblical story that I can use in the deep, thought-provoking part of the program I want to make? I talk about FOMO for 10 or 15 minutes, but what is the bridge to the gospel? In this instance, I chose the story of Genesis 3.
I told them, "The story goes like this: there is a garden, and there are two people in it. You know their names—Adam and Eve. Then, there is a voice that whispers, ‘You think you have everything, but maybe that's not true. Maybe around the corner, there's another party going on, and I’m not there.’"
You can also easily use the parable of the prodigal son to address the topic. You can use quotations of Jesus, and you can end with the fact that scripture itself ends with a feast we are invited to that's never going to stop.
Once I find these connections, it's easy to communicate and talk about them. Most of the time it's quite a bit of work to find them and think about how to make your point in a credible way, but it’s fun. The funny thing is, this exercise is helpful for me to become familiar with biblical stories. I’ve heard it so many times, but maybe only now do I realize that FOMO is in play.
BJO: As a marginal believer, is it hard for you to critique or subvert the dominant cultural narratives in Amsterdam?
TV: I still think it's important to criticize the bigger cultural narratives. You have to. But my starting point is that I'm totally part of any cultural narrative I'm talking about. I'm never speaking against a narrative that is not part of me. It's impossible for me to preach a sermon that says, "Oh, this is a terrible city. There's too much liberty for people to do whatever they want." I'm grateful for liberty in our city—I don’t want to go back to the times when all we could do with our lives is whatever our fathers and mothers told us to.
And sometimes I am worried about how we are much too open about cultural things, such as how easy it is to get a divorce or whatever, but I always make sure to check my own cultural assumptions as well as others. If we don’t, we can be very critical to others, to politicians, or whomever without realizing our own blind spots. I’m part of the same cultural framework I critique.
I always make sure to check my own cultural assumptions as well as others. If we don’t, we can be very critical to others without realizing our own blind spots. I’m part of the same cultural framework I critique.
Let me use another illustration that may be helpful. A term that I'm using a lot these days is “soul poverty.” People are poor in spirit. That’s actually a phrase from the German sociologist, Max Weber, who is sort of the father of sociology. He predicted there would be a time when everybody would be very specialized and very skill-driven, but that they would be poor in spirit and in soul. Soul poverty. That resonates with our people enormously.
Now, you could easily make the mistake of suggesting that there is a church that is rich in spirit and has all the richness of Christ to offer. But the thing I ask is, “Is the church part of that soul poverty?” The fact that our churches are so empty—and that even in the churches many think it's a bit boring—shows it might be. And that's not the final judgment of the church. That's the beginning of an honest self-examination.
I don’t think it’s biblical to start by assuming our own soul richness, so to speak. Most of the Psalms are about poverty in spirit—sentiments like “I'm spiritually dry and there's no hope.” And then you can look for what is rich and is connected to God and go from there. It's not a tale of two stories, the poor people in the city and the rich people in the church. If there is soul poverty, we all suffer from it. And maybe people in the city would be glad for the church to recognize that we all deal with it and that it has an alternative to offer.
BJO: I think when we talk about stand-up theology—about the broader goal of connecting with a cultural narrative, affirming what you can, subverting or critiquing what needs to be—it feels like it's primarily focused on non-Christians. But when you start to recognize that those broader cultural narratives also affect and inform the church, then you can see the connection between critiquing those cultural narratives as a means of apologetics and as a means of discipleship for people inside the church. In what way is this kind of activity also an important discipleship opportunity for people who are already Christians?
TV: I think it's very important, but to be honest, it took me a long time to discover it. One night I had dinner with about 10 people who attended stand-up theology. I wanted to get some reflections from them, so I organized a dinner party and asked some questions. And at one point a lady said, "You know what the problem is with this stand-up theology thing? The problem is the moment you shut up."
I said, "Explain what you mean."
And she answered, "Well, you talk about these cultural phenomena, and it's interesting, and it resonates with my life, but then you stop. What's next? What should I do? What do you want us to do?" And all of the people around the table agreed.
So, I went home on my bike and I thought, "This is interesting." These were non-Christian people—and they were talking about discipleship or catechism without even knowing it—or knowing anything about those ideas. But they heard a voice. They understood there was a message, maybe even a gospel, that could change their lives, even if it might not happen the exact moment I preach it to them.
They understood there was a message, maybe even a gospel, that could change their lives, even if it might not happen the exact moment I preach it to them.
If you are able, if you're gifted to communicate, and if you’ve attracted people to show up and listen, maybe it's not enough to simply end the program and say, "Thank you for showing up, let’s have a drink. See you in six weeks." Maybe you should start a sort of community for the part of your audience that asks, "What's next? What should I do? What does this mean for my life?"
That's just what we did. In the summer, we started a “city care community” with about 50 or 60 people, Christians and non-Christians, bounded by the question, “What's next?" They want to learn something, change something, do something. But again, we have no template for a ministry like this in this time and place! So, we investigate how it could work. It would be great if part of that stand-up theology audience would be part of the church community in the future.
I'm very humbled that these things are happening because I've never seen myself as a typical church planter. Even pastoring was sometimes difficult for me because I love to listen and talk with a small group like one or two people, and being the father of a large group felt much harder. Thank God I'm blessed with people around me who are more talented in community-building than I am. I play a role in that, but it's not all on my shoulders—otherwise, I would run away!
BJO: You have a new project called Open Like Never Before. Can you give us an overview of it and how it can help Christians as we seek to have a missionary encounter with the West?
TV: Yes. I recently wrote a book called Open Like Never Before. Part of it is simply a reflection of living during COVID as a person, a pastor, and part of a church. The other half of the book is a very optimistic view of what could be possible after COVID. It's not so much that it’s written specifically about COVID, but that it’s written in a difficult period of time. And for me, the light at the end of the tunnel started with seeing a Coca-Cola billboard with four words: Open Like Never Before. I was struck by that message. I found it a very good one.
Coca-Cola is an example of a corporation that is diving into spiritual ideas. That's a trend among corporations right now, which is a funny thing to reflect on: are they stealing our core business as a church? Or is the soul poverty in our society so big that even corporations feel compelled to address it?
I made a short investigation and got in touch with Coca-Cola to find out if it was a little bit more than marketing. I had some very good conversations with people from the company who were willing to ask difficult questions themselves. I said, “Are you serious about this quote, ‘Open Like Never Before’? Opening the doors of your heart? Or is it just a company slogan?” and so on.
People need access to moral and spiritual sources. And I think there are huge opportunities for churches and individual Christians to address that need.
To make a long story short, I think the need for spirituality may be bigger than ever in the West. People need access to moral and spiritual sources. And I think there are huge opportunities for churches and individual Christians to address that need.
But as I say in my book, you have to think like a salesman or saleswoman—not because it’s about commerce, but in that you have to listen very, very closely to your clients if you want to get something into their hands. Many inventions and products fail because nobody is interested in them. And I think churches are making mistakes by not selling the right products at the right time. To make it a bit more practical, I think the church shouldn’t try to talk about everything with dozens and dozens of themes a year. I think one great theme can be fantastic for a whole year—how to find rest, how to practice silence, and so on. Those are key issues in today's society. And there’s so much in scripture and Christian spirituality that can address it. But don’t address it a little bit in one Sunday afternoon and then move on to the next theme. And don’t over-rely on Sunday sermons; practice having one-minute conversations, or even make one-minute videos exploring the interesting idea of silence. I think we can show off so many good Christian resources if we’re creative in how we present them and get more strategic in the things we speak about, during which times and in which forms.
BJO: Asking audiences to stick with a drawn-out theme is sort of counter-cultural in itself because you're asking people to give their attention to something for a long time.
TV: Yeah, exactly. It's counter-cultural in itself. Here’s another idea in relation to silence: if we address silence in a church, most of the time we talk about it. But it takes courage to say, “Listen, people, I want to do something with silence. We have an hour, and I'm only going to talk for 12 minutes of that hour. That gives us 48 minutes to practice silence with each other.” That’s just an idea, but it’s even more counter-cultural than talking about the fact that we need silent rest. Yes, we need silent rest. But then there is practicing it.
BJO: Yes, but then you'd have a room full of people staring into the abyss of their mortality for 48 minutes!
TV: Yes! It could easily be an odd idea. It wouldn't work if you simply said, “Welcome, people! Let's shut up for an hour.” But in the speaking portion of that hour, you can ask the audience questions, explore how Christian meditation techniques work. You can give them a good question to think about, let it resonate for three minutes at a time, then you go back up with another prompt. It could be the idea of a spiritual workout or a workout for the soul that I don't think would be seen as complete nonsense in a culture like ours. And people are usually grateful if you try. In my experiences, I did some clumsy things just to try them out, and people are almost always happy if you simply attempt to do something with the topics affecting them.
It's not only about silence, but about the simple words, “God loves you.” We may use them all the time, but the power of these simple words spoken in the right way and in the right situation can be encouraging and even life-changing.
I think most of the time we underestimate the power of our basic concepts and practices as Christians. It's not only about silence, but about the simple words, “God loves you.” We may use them all the time, but the power of these simple words spoken in the right way and in the right situation can be encouraging and even life-changing. The longer I work in ministry, the more I'm impressed by the power of the things we are talking about and reading in scripture. It's absolutely powerful.
BJO: Your story about Coca-Cola reminded me that, when I was a kid, there was a Coca-Cola campaign featuring a song called “I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing” that showed people from all over the world holding hands. They’ve been tapping into a deep spiritual and cultural craving for a long time. But you're right that other corporations have been catching up to that. Part of the lifestyle that brands want to sell is a spirituality or openness that does belie a deep spiritual hunger.
TV: You can easily criticize Coca-Cola for being sentimental about holding hands and clapping hands. But then, looking at it through a Christian context, I would say read Psalm 87, where Jerusalem is the capital of the world and everybody's coming there clapping and singing, and they're all welcome as one human family.
Many Christians love that text, don't we? We may pray that this dream of unity comes true one day. Well, why can’t the Holy Spirit be at work even in Coca-Cola commercials? I obviously don’t think they’re a replacement for scripture, but I'm grateful for every glimpse of the things I believe. They're precious. That’s secular marketing that uses a heavenly idea. And I like to deepen that company’s message as a theologian and Christian. It's a good starting point.
BJO: What are the elements of a spirituality for people in a post-Christian, secular, Western society? Where do we need to strengthen or adjust our spirituality to be able to do the evangelistic work we need to do?
TV: Well, if I can only mention three things, then I would say we already mentioned the first one. We need silence and deep internal rest.
I think the second one, which is very important, is thinking about how to relate to all of the spiritual openness people feel, and discerning the different spirits behind that from a Christian perspective. Spiritual openness means that you're open to something in the spiritual world. We can relate that to one of the most basic things that we believe about God—that he is the Holy Spirit. The idea of the Holy Spirit is very helpful for a spiritual time like ours. We only have to do the homework of how it relates to people.
First, there's wonder. Second, there's hope. And third, there's delight.
And third, I think there are new opportunities in our time to see real connections between heaven and earth. I'm a fan of Martin Luther—especially of his professing that God is everywhere. He's the creator of the universe. He's everywhere in his creation. And he made the decision to show most of his heart in a very particular spot on earth. And yes, that was a baby in a manger. God was born. And it's almost blasphemy to everyone, because you think that if there is a God, he's so big and so high up in the heavens that can he really be that connected to a place like Earth? In a small corner of one of the galaxies? To me, that's somebody expressing wonder.
First, there's wonder. Second, there's hope. And third, there's delight. When people hear the story of the gospel presented to them in a clear and compelling way, it's very hard for them to say “I don't like this message. I hope it's not true.”
Christianity has many helpful things in this liquid time, in this fast time, in a time with many catastrophes where people are afraid of the end of the earth and so on. I think these are all starting points on how we can share them with others. We can use it like never before. That's the challenge I see for myself—and I like to encourage other Christians in this direction, too.
About the Author
Tim Vreugdenhil studied theology in Kampen, Leiden, and Berlin and was ordained in 2001. In 2015, he started an innovative church plant named Citykerk in Amsterdam’s city center. In 2019, he was appointed to the position of “City Preacher” on behalf of the Protestant Church of Amsterdam. In that office, he regularly addresses topics that bother the city and its people with stand-up style theology, which he details in his book Stand-Up Theology.