When Silicon Valley Meets the Savior
Rediscovering Christ in a restless age.
If there is one thing that gladdens my ears, it is the apparent Christian reckoning that is happening in certain pockets of society. From pop stars to podcasters to politicians to athletes to venture capitalists and entrepreneurs, one can only hope that the moors of life sans Christ are being exposed for what they are — namely, flotsam doctrines masquerading as reservoirs of meaning, faith, and hope. Take, for instance, the recent emergence of Christianity within the techbros of Silicon Valley, as reported in a recent feature for Vanity Fair by Zoë Bernard. “It was a time not so very long ago,” she writes, “mostly in the 2010s, when Silicon Valley cultivated a stance of pointed hostility not only toward conservatism but to the Protestant doctrines that underpin much of American life . . . Nowadays, Christianity is rarely met with direct hostility in Silicon Valley.”
While it might be impossible to trace this development to its source, Bernard wonders if it coalesces with the recent intellectual recalculation of the transcendence that is downstream of humanity’s plunge into science and technology. “An uneasy realization is dawning that,” she continues, “while we all thought we were locked arm in arm in humanity’s cheerful march toward progress, we were only wandering into swift-approaching regression.” It should come as no surprise that the greatest story ever told resonates with human beings, down to their very soul. After all, the author of this story is none other than humanity’s Creator, who, uncannily, entered his creation in order to rescue and redeem every last bit of it.
In a recent piece for The Atlantic, Elizabeth Bruenig reflects on Bernard’s findings and shares an honest perspective on whatever might be happening among the “flip-flop-wearing whiz-kid” culture, citing that “some converts are cynical characters merely pretending at Christianity,” or using such religious affiliations to network with other professionals and move up the corporate ladder. Such utilitarian treatments of the Christian faith are worrisome and should call for caution. “Christianity,” Bruenig trenchantly says, “is not a life hack: It’s a life-upending surrender to the fact of divine love.” She goes on to say:
Christianity disrupts life as we know it rather than reinforcing a self-serving status quo. It venerates generations of Christian martyrs whose examples are prized precisely because they placed obedience to God before more advantageous beliefs or activities. The formation of their faith was contingent not on temporal success, but rather on another principle altogether: that Christianity is worth following not because it has the potential to improve one’s life, though it can, but rather because it is true.
I’m reminded of the charge levvied against Paul and Silas in Acts 16, where some disgruntled businessmen whose fortune-telling scheme has gone belly-up in light of the apostles’ preaching drag the missionaries before the local magistrates, claiming, “They are disturbing our city” (Acts 16:20). This, to be sure, is what the gospel does. It disquiets the sediment of sin and death with the disruptive word of grace. Since life as we know it is upside-down, the preached Word of God is what turns everything right-side up. The life-alteringly radical message of Christianity is, indeed, not one of spiritual life-hacks or utilitarian techniques. The message is one of death and resurrection, which is the epitome of disruptive.
One can only hope that the “fascination” that Bruenig and Bernard describe blossoms into full-blown faith. But, even still, I’d rather hedge against downplaying the acceptance of Christian truth among the techbros of Silicon Valley, only because it is happening elsewhere, too. According to a 2022 research report published by Talking Jesus, from 2018 to 2022, the percentage of 18 to 24 year-olds in the United Kingdom who went to church at least once per month quadrupled. This spike was especially evident among young men, with attendance records escalating from four to twenty-one percent. While no one that I know of would be apt to call this a “Great Awakening,” whatever this movement is, it’s at least something.
In an article for Compact Mag, in which he comments on the Talking Jesus data, Daniel N. Gullotta suggests that these trends are “harder to define,” with some referring to it as “the Quiet Revival.” Whether or not that’s an accurate title is difficult to say. At the very least, all the hang-wringing and “sky is falling” messaging regarding the church seems to have died down somewhat. If recent Pew Research and Gallup studies are to be believed, religious disaffiliation or disassociation has either plateaued or paused. This seems to track anecdotally, too. Discussions about Christianity in general have appeared in some unlikely places in 2025, not the least of which is Canadian apologist Wesley Huff’s appearances on Joe Rogan’s podcast and Andrew Schulz’s podcast.
All of which to say, while some might be coming to Jesus out of honest repentance, some out of utility, and others for the community, at least, for the moment, we should be cultivating the phenomenon that they are looking to Jesus in the first place. It’s reminiscent of what Paul confesses in his letter to the Philippians that “whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed,” and in that he rejoices (Phil. 1:18). Each generation has its own “come to Jesus” reckoning of sorts, and perhaps that is what we are witnessing right now. After all, the widespread decline in mental health, coupled with the constant pressures of digital life and incessantly gloomy newsfeeds, creates a recipe for desperation, which is precisely where grace finds us. Instead of cringing at whether or not this so-called “Quiet Revival” is making for copacetic Christians, maybe, in love, we should just be there for when they eventually come to the end of themselves and are in need of grace.
I’m pretty sure that’s what the church is here for anyway.
Grace and peace.