In an era of cultural dislocation and spiritual confusion, Bethel McGrew stands out as a voice of clarity and courage. A mathematician by training and a writer by vocation, McGrew navigates the churning waters of our time with a rare blend of intellectual rigor and spiritual conviction.
By Dr. Tim Orr
“Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.” — Augustine, Confessions.
In an era of cultural dislocation and spiritual confusion, Bethel McGrew stands out as a voice of clarity and courage. A mathematician by training and a writer by vocation, McGrew navigates the churning waters of our time with a rare blend of intellectual rigor and spiritual conviction. In a recent conversation with John Anderson, she offered a sweeping diagnosis of the West’s moral and metaphysical malaise—and pointed to the gospel as not only true, but singularly sufficient for the longings of modern humanity. As I listened, it struck me that McGrew’s observations deserve a deeper theological unpacking. Beneath her cultural commentary lies a profound call: for the Church to remember who she is and why the good news of Jesus Christ still changes everything.
One of the most important threads running through McGrew’s commentary is recognizing that today’s cultural chaos is fundamentally spiritual. We are not simply facing political polarization or social fragmentation—we are grappling with a civilizational loss of metaphysical orientation. Philosopher Charles Taylor (2007) has called this the “immanent frame”—a way of seeing the world closed off to transcendence. In such a context, people are left to construct meaning within the limits of material existence. It’s no wonder that anxiety, depression, and identity confusion are rampant. Without a telos, life becomes a succession of performative experiments—selfhood becomes a project, not a gift.
McGrew rightly identifies this spiritual vacuum as the backdrop to the popularity of figures like Jordan Peterson. A clinical psychologist and reluctant metaphysician, Peterson calls young men especially to take life seriously, shoulder responsibility, and recover archetypal moral structures. She notes that Peterson offers a kind of secular prelude to the gospel—a summons to order, meaning, and even Scripture, without embracing Christ as Lord. McGrew affirms the resonance of Peterson's message with a generation adrift, yet she also critiques its limitations: his vision remains rooted in psychological archetypes rather than divine revelation. His famous exhortation to “carry your cross up the hill” is powerful because it resonates with our intrinsic sense that life must mean something, even if we’ve lost the theological grammar to say what that is (Peterson, 2018). But for McGrew, this is where Peterson's framework falters—offering a shadow of truth without the substance of the gospel's redemptive claims.
McGrew points out the crucial limitation of Peterson’s vision. He sees Jesus as the ultimate tragic hero, who embodies suffering nobly. However, in Christian theology, the cross is not merely inspirational but substitutional. Peterson’s archetypal framing casts Jesus as a universal symbol of noble suffering. Still, it misses the scandal and specificity of the incarnation: that God entered history in the flesh, died a real death, and bore the sin of the world. It is not simply about our ascent to God but God's descent to us. As John Stott (2006) reminds us, “Before we can begin to see the cross as something done for us, we have to see it as something done by us” (p. 60). That theological turn—from moral example to divine self-giving—is the point at which mere heroism becomes salvation.
Peterson’s partial grasp of the gospel makes him a significant but transitional figure. He opens the door for many but cannot lead them through. As McGrew notes, many young men who found Peterson’s challenge compelling have discovered the more profound, richer message of Christ crucified and risen. The call to personal responsibility becomes the gateway to grace. Once the moral imagination is reawakened, the soul becomes more receptive to the possibility that the world is not only intelligible, but loved into being by a Creator who entered it to save.
McGrew’s analysis of cultural trends aligns closely with Justin Brierley’s (2023) research on the decline of New Atheism and the emerging openness to faith. Dawkins and Hitchens' militancy now seems dated, almost adolescent. Their confident reductionism failed to offer anything deeply nourishing, and secularism’s brittle promises have not held. Young people are turning again toward spiritual questions—not because of indoctrination but because their lived experience under secular materialism has been profoundly unsatisfying.
Here lies an extraordinary opportunity for the Church, but also a challenge. As philosopher James K.A. Smith (2009) has argued, humans are not just “thinking things,” but desiring creatures. People are not argued into faith by syllogism alone—they are drawn by beauty, community, and hope. The Church must be more than correct; she must be compelling. Here, McGrew’s emphasis on Christianity as true humanism is deeply important. Christianity not only tells us what is wrong with the world—it tells us what is good, and why we matter.
Among the most theologically potent sections of McGrew’s conversation with Anderson is her discussion of the transgender movement. She treats the issue with both clarity and compassion. While acknowledging the political implications, McGrew insists the deeper issue is theological: the denial of created order and the revolt against embodied givenness. This is not a matter of freedom, but of alienation. In denying the body’s meaning, we deny ourselves.
Theologian Oliver O’Donovan (1999) argues that moral renewal begins with “the order of creation as the grammar of moral reasoning.” To be human is to be a creature—finite, embodied, and dependent. When society loses the capacity to affirm this, it unravels. Yet McGrew is not content to criticize. She stresses that those harmed by gender ideology need more than culture war victories—they need the healing of the gospel. McGrew suggests practical pastoral strategies, such as forming church communities with patience, clarity, and deep relational care. She highlights the importance of listening without compromise, extending grace without obscuring truth, and fostering environments where theological anthropology can be taught within loving discipleship. This is the deeper task: not simply to win arguments, but to offer redemption to those whose lives have been broken. Only in Christ can the wounds be named—and then healed.
Another key theme McGrew explores is the evangelical alliance with Donald Trump. She is careful not to paint with broad strokes. Many Christians, she concedes, supported Trump pragmatically. But she is equally clear: the Church forfeits her prophetic voice when political expediency becomes identity. Theological reflection becomes subservient to tribal loyalty.
Augustine’s City of God (trans. Dyson, 1998) remains essential reading here. The earthly city, built on love of self, and the City of God, built on love of God, are often intertwined—but never identical. The Church must engage the world without being co-opted by it. McGrew’s call for “better heroes” is not just political advice but spiritual discernment. These better heroes may include leaders marked by humility, integrity, and a commitment to justice and mercy—individuals who exemplify servant leadership and resist the temptation to wield power for self-gain. The people of God should embody Jesus's cruciform logic, not Caesar's Machiavellian tactics.
As a trained mathematician, McGrew offers a nuanced response to the claim that belief in the resurrection is irrational. Drawing on Bayesian probability—a method of evaluating how evidence impacts the likelihood of a claim—she reminds us that even an initially unlikely event can become highly credible if supported by sufficiently strong evidence. The resurrection, she argues, best accounts for the eyewitness testimony, the rise of the early Church, and the transformed lives of the apostles. This mirrors the argument in Wright’s (2003) The Resurrection of the Son of God, where he concludes that no other explanation fits the historical data.
But McGrew goes further. She insists that the resurrection is not just probable—it is meaningful. It reveals that death is not the end, suffering is not ultimate, and the world is being remade. In a time when despair is rampant and meaning feels elusive, this is astonishingly good news. As Paul writes, “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile” (1 Cor. 15:17, ESV). But if He has—then everything is different.
What McGrew ultimately offers is a call to hope, not merely a critique of culture. Her analysis is sharp, but her tone is gracious. She sees the dangers of secularism, expressive individualism, and ideological captivity. But she also sees the power of the gospel to restore. And that, perhaps, is what we most need: voices who believe not only that Christianity is true, but that it is beautiful—and still has the power to rescue, re-form, and resurrect a tired and tangled world.
Let the Church, then, take courage. In Winston Churchill's words to Billy Graham, the world is still asking, “Do you have any hope?” The answer is still the same: Yes. And it is very good news.
Brierley, J. (2023). The surprising rebirth of belief in God: Why new atheism grew old and secular thinkers are considering Christianity again. Tyndale House.
Dyson, R. W. (Trans.). (1998). The city of God (by Augustine). Cambridge University Press.
O'Donovan, O. (1999). Resurrection and moral order: An outline for evangelical ethics (2nd ed.). Eerdmans.
Peterson, J. B. (2018). 12 rules for life: An antidote to chaos. Random House.
Smith, J. K. A. (2009). Desiring the kingdom: Worship, worldview, and cultural formation. Baker Academic.
Stott, J. R. W. (2006). The cross of Christ. InterVarsity Press.
Taylor, C. (2007). A secular age. Harvard University Press.
Wright, N. T. (2003). The resurrection of the Son of God. Fortress Press.
Tim serves full-time with Crescent Project as the assistant director of the internship program and area coordinator, where he is also deeply involved in outreach across the UK. A scholar of Islam, Evangelical minister, conference speaker, and interfaith consultant, Tim brings over 30 years of experience in cross-cultural ministry. He holds six academic degrees, including a Doctor of Ministry from Liberty University and a Master’s in Islamic Studies from the Islamic College in London.
In addition to his ministry work, Tim is a research associate with the Congregations and Polarization Project at the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture at Indiana University Indianapolis. His research interests include Islamic antisemitism, American Evangelicalism, and Islamic feminism. He has spoken at leading universities and mosques throughout the UK—including Oxford University, Imperial College London, and the University of Tehran—and has published widely in peer-reviewed Islamic academic journals. Tim is also the author of four books.