There are many pressing areas in need of fresh theological thinking in light of a rapidly changing world. The redefinition of family, the nature of sexual identity, artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, and now, the digital church.
One of the more pressing concerns will be how much tech can and should be used – and how – in light of an orthodox and robust ecclesiology. Is someone considered “attending” if it’s through an internet connection and a virtual reality (VR) headset? Is it appropriate to perform a digital baptism where avatars are immersed in water? What of a completely computer-generated church using VR and augmented reality (AR)? Which, I might add, already exists.
On the most basic of levels, what is to be thought when people participate through an online service but consider themselves a part of a church—the so-called “bedside Baptists” and “pillow Presbyterians?” Or using apps to attend digital “events” and enter into corporate prayer through emojis and avatars?
Is Digital Church Okay?
There will be a knee-jerk reaction against such innovations, but there can be little doubt that a new way of doing – and being – church is being forged through technological innovation and an increasingly digital world. In other words, instead of a knee-jerk negative reaction out of distaste or stylistic preference, it demands vigorous theological reflection that takes the digital revolution seriously.
A single blog is grossly insufficient to tackle this task, but perhaps I could suggest one way of thinking about one of the many questions being raised: If someone is involved in an online campus, should they be encouraged to participate in the Lord’s Supper as they watch?
Again, this is not about a full-blown theology of the digital church, much less the only kind of question that can be raised. So let’s just treat it as a sample question in need of theological reflection in light of the digital revolution.
My own conclusion? A qualified “yes.”
When I was in seminary and pastor of a county-seat First Baptist Church, one of the more meaningful ministries of the deacons was taking communion to shut-ins (I don’t know whether “shut-ins” is still the correct term, but that is what we called them.). We offered communion, or the Lord’s Supper, once a month. We had members of the church who were physically unable to attend—they were in the hospital, in a nursing home, or in their own homes, but not able to physically leave.