Russell Brand’s Brand Of Christianity

Last April, English comedian and media personality Russell Brand was baptized in the river Thames by television survivalist Bear Grylls.

Brand’s career began in stand-up comedy, and he has dabbled in acting, starring in the 2008 romantic comedy “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.” He rose to prominence, however, in the 2010s among those who became “famous for being famous.” He currently has 4.7 million followers on Instagram.

Since his baptism, Brand has shared thoughts from his scripture-reading on social media platforms and recently preached at Oceans Church in Destin, Florida.

Brand’s fluency in evangelical Christian rhetoric may surprise the casual observer. However, he has long been known as a spiritual seeker, embracing Buddhism, transcendental meditation, and “Christ-consciousness” at various times. This has likely given him the tools to engage with the Bible in a deeper way than most new converts.

Although few groups receive as much derision from white, conservative evangelicals as Hollywood celebrities, you’d be hard-pressed to find something that excites them more than a celebrity who becomes a Christian. They’ll go from “Shut up and act!” to “Tell us more!” quicker than the amount of time it takes to set up a plexiglass shield for the drummer in their worship band.

Brand’s conversion, however, has seemingly taken slightly longer than usual for them to embrace.

His comedy often relies on a sly chutzpah, which walks the tightrope between authenticity and mockery. It can be difficult to decipher whether he is embracing an idea or mocking it. Many evangelicals seem to have been “waiting it out” to see which one he is doing with Christianity.

And then there’s this: Just a few months before his baptism, Brand was accused of sexual assault. Investigations into the incident uncovered numerous similar accusations from the previous two decades.

Was his baptism a distraction? A repentance? A mixture of both?

Having spent some of my young adulthood in conservative, white evangelical spaces, I know these are questions that have been asked among leaders in that world. It may take many forms, but what they are essentially asking boils down to, “Is Brand’s conversion genuine?”

I am no longer concerned with that question.

Don’t get me wrong. As a follower of Jesus, I want the best for Russell Brand. 

He is an image-bearer of God and anything that helps him reconnect with his creator and brings about healing and wholeness for Brand and the world is something to be celebrated. I believe the risen Jesus offers the best possibility for this healing and wholeness.

However, my devotion to Jesus drives me to be less invested in Brand’s conversion and more interested in what brand (pun intended) of Christianity he is advancing.

Chronically online evangelicals, primarily white men, have recently begun to embrace Brand’s conversion. Rather than singling him out, however, they are lumping him with other recent converts, including comedian Matt Rife. The conversation has been less about each celebrity and more about the idea that “something is happening” among celebrities.

On top of Brand’s and Rife’s baptisms, some note that Joe Rogan, who has the world’s most listened to podcast, recently hosted Canadian theologian and apologist Wes Huff on his program. This is in addition to the outspoken defenses of their Christian faith by (alleged) intellectual Jordan Peterson and Kansas City Chiefs kicker Harrison Butker.

There are clear throughlines for all these personalities: They are straight, cisgender, white men. There is nothing inherently wrong with straight, cisgender, white men, but what these personalities all share is a trait common among such individuals. They represent a smug, MAGA-adjacent sensibility that elevates masculinity and whiteness to the head of the table.

While I’m not concerned with whether Russell Brand’s conversion is “genuine,” I do care about how he (and others like him) use the name of Jesus to advance an agenda while pretending to have no agenda but Jesus. I am primarily concerned with the evangelicals, particularly pastors, who allow him to do so.

In a recent post on X, Brand shared a now-famous image of Presidents Obama and Trump having a conversation at Jimmy Carter’s funeral. He captions the photo with a quip that I will not dignify by sharing, but which utilizes a racist trope that dehumanizes Obama’s wife, Michelle.

What is most outrageous, though, at this point, entirely predictable, is how few evangelical pastors have publicly called him out for this.

Recognizing the form of racism in Brand’s post requires a level of thoughtfulness and introspection that can only be cultivated intentionally. Personal study would be helpful. Formal programs that explain ideas like–say–diversity, equity, and inclusion would also benefit people like Brand.

But with such introspection and programs under attack, who is left to disciple Brand toward a more faithful way? Ideally, it would be the pastors and Christian leaders who are elevating these Christian celebrities, suggesting their conversions are part of a greater work of the Spirit afoot in our culture.

But will they do so when they benefit from Brand’s brand of Christianity, which elevates personal experience over structural revolution? Will they risk angering the young white men in their congregation by calling out racism? Or will they simply shrug their shoulders and hit “refresh” on their bank account pages?

I will pray for courage to take hold of them.