Addressing the Stigmas of Running a Christian-Based Theatre Company

(Photo: Acacia Theatre Company)

by Chris Peterson

There’s a funny thing that happens when you tell people you work with a Christian-based theatre company. Some smile and say, “That’s interesting,” while clearly wondering what that actually means. Others pause, trying to decide if they should be polite or cautious. And a few? They stiffen right up — like they’re bracing for a sermon or a sales pitch.

It’s not their fault, really. The word “Christian” carries a lot of baggage these days.

Christian-based theatre has always lived in this awkward in-between space — too religious for the mainstream theatre world, too worldly for the fundamentalists. It’s a place filled with tension: artists who love God but also love risk, who want to make something sacred without making it stiff. And despite the confusion or the skepticism, these companies keep creating because they believe the stage is still one of the best places to wrestle with life’s biggest questions.

But the truth is, that mission comes with stigma. Say you’re Christian-based, and people start making assumptions. They imagine a church basement production full of smiling actors and safe endings. Or worse, they assume you’re using art as a cover for politics. It’s not fair — but it’s real. And for a lot of people in this world, it’s exhausting.

Ron Reed, who founded Pacific Theatre in Vancouver, has been honest about this. “We’ve never said we do ‘Christian theatre,’” he explained. “That word is a bad adjective but a good noun. I readily say I’m a Christian, but we don’t do Christian theatre. We do plays that explore spiritual questions honestly from a Christian perspective.”

That line — a bad adjective but a good noun — hits home. Because once you use “Christian” as a label instead of a lived reality, you lose control of what it means. Everyone else starts defining it for you.

Reed said his company struggled early on with funding and legitimacy because of that word. People saw the label and assumed it meant propaganda. “We never hid the fact that our company is about spiritual questions,” he said. “But the adjective ‘Christian’ often makes people assume it’s propaganda.” That’s the catch — if your art even hints at faith, it’s easy for others to assume it’s an agenda.

Max McLean, who leads Fellowship for Performing Arts in New York, gets it too. His company stages plays from a Christian worldview, but with wide appeal. “Nothing proselytizes as effectively as a good show that does not proselytize,” he once said. That might be one of the smartest takes I’ve ever heard on this topic. Because what he’s really saying is: when the story comes first, the message takes care of itself.

Now, to be fair, not every Christian-based company fits this mold. There are some groups that proudly align themselves with ultra-conservative or nationalist beliefs. That’s their choice, and they have every right to it. But they’re not the majority. The problem is, they’re loud. And their visibility often paints all faith-driven theatre with the same brush — like anyone who mentions Jesus on stage must secretly be pushing an ideology. It’s lazy thinking, but it happens all the time.

Inside the community, there’s tension too. Christian-based artists constantly ask themselves: Who are we creating for? Do we make art that comforts believers, or art that challenges everyone? Go too far one way, and you’re accused of preaching. Go too far to the other, and you’re accused of selling out. It’s a tough balance, and it’s why so many companies live in the grey.

That’s where real theatre happens, anyway — in the questions. Propaganda tells you what to think. Theatre asks you what you believe. And for faith-based artists, that question cuts both ways. Every rehearsal, every production, every new play — they’re asking it too.

The stereotypes come in layers. There’s the one where people assume you’re secretly running a political campaign in costume. There’s the idea that you’re only capable of “safe” stories — light entertainment with predictable moral endings. And there’s the worst one: that you’re somehow less of an artist because you lead with faith.

Then comes the association that’s hardest to shake — Christian nationalism. Many faith-based theatres want nothing to do with it, yet find themselves lumped right in. It’s a frustrating, delicate line to walk. Ron Reed once said he sees faith as yeast in dough — something subtle, transformative, working quietly from within. “You don’t tell it where to grow; it just does.” That’s about as far from militant religion as you can get. But in a culture that loves easy categories, nuance rarely wins.

So how do these artists navigate that? Some have stopped using the phrase “Christian theatre” entirely. They just call themselves storytellers who explore spirituality. Others focus on artistic excellence first and let the work speak before the label does. Most are transparent about their mission but refuse to be pinned to any ideology. Because the truth is, you can hold faith deeply without turning it into a slogan.

What I like most about faith-driven theatre is that it reminds us what the art form was meant to do — build empathy. Step into someone else’s story. Feel what they feel. That’s where faith and art meet. You can’t love your neighbor as yourself without first imagining what it’s like to be them. You can’t talk about grace without acknowledging the mess that makes grace matter.

And maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe Christian-based theatre isn’t about preaching to the choir. Maybe it’s about reminding everyone that the choir is bigger than we think — full of doubters, seekers, and people just trying to find something true.

So yes, there are stigmas. There probably always will be. But there’s something quietly radical about standing under the lights, in a divided world, and saying: We still believe in telling stories that heal.