Applying God’s Love: Christ as the Transformer of Culture
As a Christian leader, I long to see cultures flourish in relationship with their Creator—to witness beauty and justice emerge as people respond to God’s transforming love. Jeff Myers, in Understanding the Culture, reminds readers that Christians are not called to withdraw from culture but to engage it redemptively—demonstrating how biblical truth restores what is broken in the world.¹ Myers explains that followers of Christ are called to see culture as part of our mission, take it seriously, and create new culture.² This vision insists that Christ’s transforming love reaches every sphere of human life and invites believers to view culture itself as a setting where God’s redemptive work continues.
Living in a culture I was not raised in has deepened this conviction. I have learned that transformation does not come through human design or persuasion but through participation—joining what God is already doing in the hearts of people. The conversionist vision acknowledges the fallenness of humanity yet recognizes Christ’s power to restore culture toward what is good, not merely different.³ This shift—from striving to change culture to responding to God’s ongoing renewal within it—has reshaped how I understand leadership and community. My hope is that others will also be drawn into this slow, steady work of grace, carrying it forward long after me.
To explore this further, I turned to a range of voices—scholarly, theological, and practical—that examine how trust, humility, and learning foster movement toward cultural renewal. These perspectives have helped me see that applying God’s love in complex contexts requires more than conviction; it requires a posture of listening, patience, and shared growth. They remind me that while transformation is ultimately God’s work, He invites us to participate through faithfulness and relational trust. In this sense, cultural transformation begins with the heart’s response to God’s initiative—an ethos shaped by the gospel and expressed through the way we live, lead, and love others.
David DeSteno’s The Truth About Trust provides insight into this tension. He describes trust as “a bet about the future contingent actions of others,”⁴ noting that humans naturally seek their own advantage. Trust, then, becomes necessary precisely where our interests diverge. From a Christian perspective, this highlights the radical distinctiveness of the gospel: while human trust is often conditional, Christ calls us to a trust that mirrors His sacrificial love—one that gives freely, not expecting return. In contexts where cultural values emphasize self-preservation or suspicion, Christian leaders are invited to model a trust that looks beyond personal benefit toward mutual flourishing. Such trust reflects God’s initiative to extend grace unconditionally—a trust that transforms relationships and, in time, cultures.
Amy Edmondson’s The Right Kind of Wrong complements this perspective by showing how learning and transformation often begin with failure. She writes, “If you’re not failing, you’re not journeying into new territory,”⁵ emphasizing that growth requires psychological safety—a space where people can be honest about mistakes without fear. From a gospel perspective, such safety mirrors the grace of Christ, who meets people not in their perfection but in their need. Failure, then, becomes the soil where humility and dependence on God can take root. When Christian leaders cultivate environments marked by grace and openness, they echo Christ’s invitation to bring shortcomings into the light—not for condemnation, but for renewal. In this way, transformation is not hindered by failure; it is often born through it.
Both DeSteno and Edmondson, though writing from secular disciplines, illuminate important dimensions of a conversionist ethos. These ideas echo Myers’s reminder that Christ transforms cultures through changed hearts. When trust and humility take root, the gospel becomes visible in how people live, lead, and love. Because our natural inclination is to protect our own interests, the work of transformation begins only when grace teaches us to trust and give ourselves for the good of others; as Myers notes, the Christ-the-transformer-of-culture view assumes that when the truly good happens in culture, it is because of Christ, not in spite of him.⁶
This conviction finds resonance in cross-cultural psychology, which studies how human behavior and cultural context shape one another. John Berry describes culture as “the shared way of life of a group of people” and emphasizes the “mutual, interactive relationship between cultural and behavioral phenomena.”⁷ This suggests that while cultures vary in expression, the human need for meaning, belonging, and moral grounding remains universal. Berry’s framework—especially his discussion of relativism and universalism—provides a useful tension to Myers’s perspective, inviting reflection on whether moral truths are shared across cultures or shaped within them. Relativists argue that morality and truth are culture-bound, while universalists maintain that some truths transcend culture. The gospel supports the latter: it speaks to every culture not by erasing difference but by fulfilling the deepest longings within each. Transformation, then, involves engaging culture as both context and participant in God’s redemptive story.
Stephen Hicks, in Explaining Postmodernism, presents another challenge. Postmodern thought resists universal truth claims, suggesting that power, not truth, often drives cultural narratives.⁸ While Hicks helps explain the skepticism that shapes much of contemporary culture, his perspective also highlights the uniqueness of the Christian vision. The gospel invites not domination but service, not relativism but revelation. It asserts that truth is not a human construct but a person—Christ himself—who redeems and redefines our understanding of culture.
Taken together, these perspectives—Myers’ theology, DeSteno’s psychology, Edmondson’s organizational insight, Berry’s cross-cultural framework, and Hicks’ philosophical critique—form a richer picture of transformation. Myers calls believers to apply God’s love in every sphere of life. DeSteno reveals the human tension between self-interest and trust, reminding us why grace must reshape our motives. Edmondson shows that truth and humility foster environments where growth can take root. Berry highlights the interplay between shared human longings and cultural distinctiveness, and Hicks warns that without truth, power becomes the substitute. Each, in its own way, shows that cultural renewal happens when human trust and divine grace converge in everyday life.
Together, these voices point to a vision of culture that is responsive rather than controlling—a culture that reflects “the story of God’s mighty deeds and of humanity’s responses to them.”⁹ For Christian leaders, this means approaching culture not as something to master, but as something to love through participation in God’s redemptive work. Transformation begins when we live out the gospel in tangible ways—listening well, extending grace, and building trust that reflects the heart of Christ. As I continue to learn from the culture around me, I am reminded that renewal does not depend on my influence but on Christ’s presence made visible through His people. That, to me, is the heart of the conversionist vision—and the hope of every Christian leader seeking to see God’s love bring life to the world.
- Jeff Myers, Understanding the Culture: A Survey of Social Engagement (Colorado Springs: David C Cook, 2017), 98–99, Kindle edition.
- Ibid., 100.
- Ibid., 98–99.
- David DeSteno, The Truth About Trust: How It Determines Success in Life, Love, Learning, and More (New York: Penguin Publishing, 2014), 5, Kindle edition.
- Amy C. Edmondson, Right Kind of Wrong: The Science of Failing Well (New York: Simon Element, 2023), 3.
- Myers, Understanding the Culture, 102, Kindle edition.
- John W. Berry et al., Cross-Cultural Psychology: Research and Applications, 3rd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 4–5, Kindle edition.
- Stephen R. C. Hicks, Explaining Postmodernism: Skepticism and Socialism from Rousseau to Foucault (Tempe, AZ: Scholargy Publishing, 2004), 24–25, Kindle edition.
- Myers, Understanding the Culture, 98, Kindle edition.
About the Author
Elysse Burns
20 responses to “Applying God’s Love: Christ as the Transformer of Culture”
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Elysse, I have enjoyed walking alongside you as you have adjusted to, embraced, and flourished in a position where you cross cultures daily. What is a way you can practically model to our host country how to have “a vision of culture that is responsive rather than controlling or passive”?
Hey Kari,
Thank you for your kind words. I think one practical way to model a culture that’s responsive rather than controlling or passive is by holding space for others’ perspectives while staying grounded in truth. Being responsive doesn’t mean agreeing with everything or losing conviction—it’s about choosing humility over certainty and grace over control.
A gospel-centered posture invites dialogue instead of defensiveness and helps build genuine trust and respect over time. It reminds others that strength isn’t found in dominance or persuasion but in patience, love, and faithfulness—the kind of presence that points beyond ourselves to something greater.
Elysse,
Great job, engaging in cross-cultural relationships can be so difficult. If cultural transformation begins in the heart, then what sort of reflective practices might the church need to encourage to help facilitate this transformation?
Hey Adam,
Thank you for this great question. If transformation really does begin in the heart, I think the Church has to slow down enough to make space for that kind of work. It’s easy to move straight into doing and miss the invitation to reflect. Real change takes honesty—pausing long enough to notice what’s driving us, what we fear, or where we’ve stopped listening.
Some of the practices that seem most helpful are simple ones: prayer that makes room for silence, confession that brings freedom, and conversations where people can be real about where they are. Those moments remind us that transformation isn’t something we can force. It’s something God shapes in us as we stay open, humble, and willing to learn. When the Church encourages that kind of posture, I think people start to see that growth doesn’t always look visible or immediate—but it is deeply genuine.
Dr. Elysse, I love the vision for trust and grace to cultivate a culture that is “responsive rather than controlling.” We have learned about a variety of public and political theologies, from Augustine, Anabaptism, through to Christian Nationalism. What public theology, or way for the church to model God’s Kingdom in society do you think works most intuitively with your framework here? Why?
Hey Joel,
Thank you for the thoughtful question—though I think this one might be a little above my pay grade! I think the way the Church can model God’s Kingdom most faithfully is by showing what trust and grace look like in real relationships. For me, that means being present with people rather than trying to persuade or control them. When the Church chooses to listen first, honor others’ dignity, and respond with compassion, it becomes a credible witness of God’s character in society.
In my own context, this often looks like small, steady acts of faithfulness—keeping my word, extending patience, or asking questions that help others see how God might already be at work. I think that kind of public theology—one lived out through humility and consistent presence—creates the space for transformation to grow in ways that are lasting and genuine, even if not immediate. It reflects the way Jesus engaged people: personally, patiently, and with love.
Phenomenal blog, Elysse. I love how you drew in key secular voices that echo Kingdom values. I learned a lot reading your blog and will definitely refer to some of the sources you used.
As you discern where you should be participating in God’s work, what safeguards help you distinguish God’s leading from personal bias or urgency?
Hey Graham,
Thank you for your kind words and thoughtful question. That’s something I wrestle with often. For me, discernment begins with slowing down. Urgency usually tempts me to move ahead of God, so I’ve learned that if I’m striving or forcing outcomes, it’s often a sign I need to pause. Prayer, Scripture, and honest conversations with trusted mentors help me realign my motives.
I’ve found that God’s leading usually carries a sense of direction that feels steady and grounded, even when it stretches me, while my own bias often brings restlessness or the pressure to prove something. I try to pay attention to that difference. Often, discernment feels less like certainty and more like faithfulness in the next step—staying attentive to where peace and confirmation emerge over time. The longer I walk with Him, the more I’m learning that discernment isn’t about getting it right every time, but about staying close enough to recognize His voice when He speaks.
Elysse! I really love your post this week. My question is, if transformation begins through responsive participation rather than persuasion or influence, how can Christian leaders faithfully balance attaining the goal of cultural humility with prophetic conviction?
Hey Daren,
Thank you for your thoughtful question! I think that balance—between cultural humility and prophetic conviction—comes down to posture. Transformation doesn’t happen because we win people over with words or influence; it happens when we respond to others with the same grace Christ extends to us. Cultural humility calls us to listen, to learn, and to see others as image bearers before we ever speak truth into a situation.
But humility doesn’t mean silence. It means our conviction is carried differently—through compassion, not control. When leaders are deeply rooted in Christ, their words and actions flow from love rather than from the need to persuade. In that sense, prophetic conviction and humility aren’t opposites; they’re companions. Humility gives our conviction credibility, and conviction keeps our humility from becoming passive.
In my experience, when we choose to stay present, listen well, and engage with both courage and compassion—even in disagreement—people begin to glimpse the heart of Christ, which is what transforms both them and us.
Elysse, Powerful blog, wonderfully written and well-supported. You present a compelling and comprehensible reason for both ‘why’ and ‘what’ you are doing, which I am sure can sometimes be challenging. How do you help the people you live with see how God is already moving among them?
Hey Julie,
Thank you for the good question. I wish I did a better job with it! From what I’ve observed, so much of the religion here centers on memorization and recitation. When a friend who doesn’t know Christ is confiding in me, I’ll often ask, “What do you think God thinks about this?” or “What do you think God thinks of you?” I usually don’t expect a response, but I ask to help them begin wondering, reflecting, and hopefully seeking. I believe that if they truly seek, they’ll find the One they’re looking for.
Kari uses a phrase I’ve come to appreciate—“planting faith flags.” That’s really what I try to do: to plant small reminders of God’s presence in everyday conversations with friends who haven’t yet encountered Him.
Dr. Burns, this is an excellent article. Thank you for sharing the comparisons and for standing for the relational and gentle method of Christ’s transforming love. I’m especially interested in the concept of “trust.”
In a practical leadership context, what is an effective “Christ-mirroring” behavior that a leader can consistently exhibit to build the radical trust needed to foster an environment of psychological safety amidst genuine cross-cultural tension or failure?
Hey Debbie,
Thank you for this great question. In my research, I’ve been studying David DeSteno’s work on trust—particularly his book The Truth About Trust—which looks at how trust develops as both a social and emotional process. In a leadership context, I think one Christ-mirroring behavior that builds radical trust is humility, especially in moments of tension or failure. As DeSteno writes, “trust requires us to be willing to place ourselves in another’s hands with the hope that they will act with our best interests in mind.” Trust isn’t just a feeling—it’s a choice to extend vulnerability in the hope of mutual good. Leaders have to choose to trust others, even when the outcome isn’t certain.
When a leader responds to mistakes with humility instead of self-protection, it mirrors Christ’s posture of grace and helps create space where others feel safe to do the same. DeSteno also reminds us that “trust takes time to build, but only a moment to destroy.” Consistent humility—choosing to listen, admit limits, and extend grace—can foster the kind of psychological safety where real collaboration can take root.
Elysse, I see confidence and power in your post as you connect your context with both secular voices and the Christian conversionist perspective that even in our fallen nature, Christ is the one with the power to be redemptive. Our role being to listen well, extend grace, and build trust allows us to share the gospel in tangible ways. My question might have some bias in it, but my guess is that you see more outwardly that Christ’s transformative work is difficult in your context. I am wondering if the outward signs around you cause discouragement or fatigue, and if so, how do you rest in the Lord? Feel free to defer answering this.
Hey Diane,
You’re correct. The outward circumstances in my context can be tiring and discouraging at times. However, I’m reminded of Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 4:18: “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” I try to keep that truth in mind when I start to feel like my work is in vain. It helps me remember that faithfulness matters, even when fruit isn’t immediately visible.
I also find rest in the simple beauty God shows here—in sunsets, cooler mornings, and the beach. Those moments remind me that He’s still present and at work, even in what feels slow or unseen.
Hi Elysse, as you said, “Myers explains that followers of Christ are called to see culture as part of our mission, take it seriously, and create new culture.” Are there parts of culture that you previously thought were not your job as a believer to consider, but now do?
Hey Christy,
Thank you for this thoughtful question. It’s not so much about not engaging with certain parts of culture, but about discerning how and why I engage with them. In the past, I probably would’ve seen things like politics, media, or even social trends as outside my responsibility as a believer. Over time, I’ve realized that those spaces reflect real questions people are asking about meaning, justice, and belonging—questions the gospel speaks to.
So now I try to approach culture less as something to avoid or critique from a distance and more as something to enter thoughtfully, with curiosity and conviction. It’s about being present and discerning what reveals truth and what needs redeeming.
Elysse, your insight that transformation happens through participation in what God is already doing really resonated with me. How do you think local church leaders can cultivate that kind of patient, grace-filled participation in cultural renewal, especially when so much of ministry today feels driven by speed, strategy, and outcomes?
Hey Chad,
Thank you for your great question. I think local churches could really benefit from taking a step back and reflecting on the culture that drives how they approach speed, strategy, and outcomes. Sometimes our rhythms start to look more like organizational efficiency than spiritual health. When that happens, we risk losing sight of the slower, relational work that actually forms people and communities.
It’s especially important that church leadership take the lead in this kind of honest reflection. Their willingness to pause, listen, and model a different pace sets the tone for the whole community. Each church carries its own story, patterns, and pressures, so this process will naturally look different from place to place. Still, I think the goal is the same—to move toward something more holistic and life-giving, where success is measured less by pace and productivity and more by faithfulness and depth.