In 1974, Billy Graham and John Stott convened the first Lausanne Congress on World Evangelization in Lausanne, Switzerland. What began as a largely Western, male-dominated gathering has grown into a truly global movement, with many more cultures and both genders represented more significantly. The original Congress birthed many significant initiatives. Perhaps its most enduring legacy was Ralph Winter's introduction of the concept of unreached people groups. His reframing of mission strategy has shaped the global church for the past five decades.
What has transpired over these fifty years? Nothing short of the most expansive spread of the gospel in history and an ongoing shift in leadership to non-Westerners. Major Bible translation organizations are now led by Africans. Migration has redefined what it means to be a missionary. Pentecostalism continues to surge across sub-Saharan Africa and South America.
Academic institutions have started to take notice—albeit belatedly. Cambridge and Duke have appointed faculty in the field of global Christianity. Significant voices in the discipline such as the Center for the Study of World Christianity (Edinburgh), the Center for the Study of Global Christianity (Boston), and the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies (Oxford) have emerged. In 2010, the Evangelical Theological Society held its first consultation on World Christianity, and in 2024 its theme was Global Evangelicalism.
Now we have had the Fourth Lausanne Congress in 2024. Over 5,000 men and women from more than 200 nations gathered in Seoul, South Korea. Another 7,000 men and women joined online. I was there in person. Each day left me emotionally spent and spiritually stirred, overwhelmed by the diversity, complexity, and beauty of Christ's global church. Lausanne, which is run by a small staff and a lot of volunteers, had brought us together. I often walked back to my hotel in silence, trying to process what I had just witnessed. Lausanne felt like a place where the whole family was getting together, from close siblings to weird cousins. It was wonderful.
But what was I experiencing?
"Global Chrsitianity"
Global gatherings inevitably surface many joys along with theological and cultural tensions. Conviction and charity must coexist, as Paul exhorts in Rom 14. Within the Lausanne setting, Christ-centered unity was continually tested by differing views on the Holy Spirit, gender roles, justice, and the relationship between evangelism and social action.
The Congress itself was thoughtfully curated by godly leaders from many backgrounds. But which culture emerged as dominant? Which served as the functional "culture" of this global Christian gathering? From my vantage point, it looked like 2000s InterVarsity-style American evangelicalism—broad-tent, very educated. One African American scholar remarked to me, "The American Black church is not here. This is upper white middle-class." A specific cultural aesthetic was reflected in the talk-show style interviews, the drama teams, the Korean band playing Passion music, the high-tech displays, and the formal expositions by highly educated speakers. Even where "cultural clothing" was worn on stage, attendees throughout the convention center were largely dressed the same. Even some speakers changed back into what they normally would wear after leaving the stage.
This is not necessarily a critique; some culture will inevitably shape any global gathering. But it does raise the question: if "global Christianity" is diverse by definition, how do we navigate its cultural expressions? Culture is inherently glocal—both global and local—and often syncretistic. Even as I witnessed genuine efforts to honor other cultures, I sometimes wondered if I truly understood what was being communicated—or if anyone did.
There were deeply encouraging moments. A Brazilian leader serving in Rome and on Lausanne's international board of directors, Sarah Breuel, led a powerful, unscripted time of repentance. She even urged North Americans to recover their missionary boldness rather than reject it as colonialism. Her message was timely and convicting. It has become fashionable to critique the modern missionary movement as cultural imperialism, capitalist entanglement, and theological rigidity.
Western missionaries are often expected to begin their work by first apologizing for the entire history of their predecessors. Such critiques surely have some warrant. Yet, paradoxically, some evangelicals seem more self-reflective than many of their liberal theological counterparts, who are not immune to their own forms of ideological and cultural imperialism. A challenge from a Christian leader from the Majority World for North Americans to not lose proper boldness was refreshing.
There were also more disquieting moments. One speaker critiqued cessationists in a way that left little room for legitimate difference. Is "global Christianity" inherently charismatic? It is certainly true that Pentecostalism represents a major force within it, but must charismatic theology serve as the baseline? What is the basis for assuming its views must be normative for others? Its recent popularity?
Another speaker linked dispensational theology to unjust political allegiances to Israel. This prompted a formal apology from Lausanne leadership. While such an apology may have some propriety, why was an apology given on this issue and not on others? Why did that issue cross the line when other problematic issues did not? I do not envy the people making the decision.
Creation care was often presented in terms that mirrored secular environmentalism. Justice-oriented talks adopted progressive critiques of capitalism, gender, and the West—frequently drawing on Liberation Theology. Are secular environmentalism and progressivism truly representative of global evangelicalism? Are these the central concerns of Bhutanese or Zambian believers? Are Romanian Baptists worried about gender justice? Or are we mimicking the language of the UN and The New York Times more than reflecting the needs of global Christianity? It may be that Western Christians are still just teaching the global church what the priorities should be through the lens of the battles in our own culture.
Even theological language proved slippery. References to reconciliation in 2 Cor 5:18–21 were applied to geopolitical conflicts, though the text clearly concerns reconciliation with God through Christ. In Paul's way of engaging the church within the world, the church's ministry of reconciliation is spiritual and relational, not primarily diplomatic or political—even while the spiritual and relational dimensions of our reconciliation to God and other believers in Christ must have practical implications for those in Christ who engage in diplomatic and political issues.
I also wondered: as a white, educated American man, am I allowed to question such interpretations? Or has a certain version of CRT language so infused our biblical and theological interpretive frameworks that a member of global Christianity like me is now paralyzed, or at least hamstrung, in a similar way to how other global Christians have been in the past (and, sadly, still are in many places around the world)?
Notably absent were discussions of the sanctity of life or the global pressures surrounding same-sex marriage, but those are issues of deep concern to many evangelicals around the world. Little was said about the alarming decline of birthrates in, for example, much of the West, China, and Japan, reflecting a flight from marriage and from the costly adult self-sacrifice of rearing children. In Scripture, though, children are an unspeakable blessing; motherhood is hallowed; fatherhood is a mirroring of the Father. Has "global Christianity" abandoned the part of the creation mandate about multiplying and filling the earth (Gen 1:27–28)?
The Seoul Statement
and the Mission of the Church
The Congress concluded with the release of the Seoul Statement, outlining seven priorities for the global church. These included a robust theology of Scripture, biblical sexuality, the doctrine of the church, discipleship, and engagement with technology and conflict. Commendable though it is, the document sparked conversation: does it sufficiently prioritize evangelism? Does it distinguish clearly between the gospel and its implications?
This is the central tension in the Lausanne conversation: What is the mission of the church? Should social action stand alongside gospel proclamation as a co-equal partner? Should social action flow from and support the church's primary task of making disciples? Perhaps there is some other relationship between discipleship and social action that would be helpful: e.g., social action functioning as a non-negotiable but smaller aspect within discipleship—so neither a co-equal partner nor merely an implication. What is the mission of the church?
Acts 6 reminds us that the apostles prioritized prayer and the ministry of the Word, while making a point to appoint others to meet pressing social needs. That was not a denial of justice; it was a recognition of callings and their relationship—the apostles' own calling within the calling of the whole community of believers. When everything becomes a "gospel issue," we risk obscuring what the gospel actually is; and when aspects of discipleship are completely separated from the gospel, we risk making Jesus's good work and the good news about it seem impotent in the face of hard lives throughout all of global Christianity.
Michael Oh, Lausanne's Executive Director, helpfully re-centered the Congress with his final address. He called the church back to the task of crossing linguistic and cultural barriers to proclaim Christ to those who have never heard. Was that always planned? Was that a course correction to how many aspects of the congress had been flowing? Regardless, it brought some clarity to a complex week.
Movements, Not Moments
The true impact of the Fourth Lausanne Congress will not be measured by hashtags or headlines. It will be measured by the quiet fruit of ongoing conversations, collaborations, and commitments forged in Seoul. In 1974, Ralph Winter's reframing of mission around unreached people groups reshaped global missions. Fifty years later, at Lausanne IV in 2024, there may not have been a singular "Winter moment"; but seeds were certainly planted.
The global church is now thoroughly multicentric—diverse, dynamic, and difficult to define. That's partly because Christ is shaping his people across every culture, and none of us is static. The Chinese church ten years from now will not be what it is today. Nor will the Nigerian, Brazilian, or American church. Christ is always at work by his Spirit.
At the same time, globalization and technological flattening have made us more alike in some significant ways than we realize. Christianity, unlike Islam, is not tethered to a single cultural form. It is meant to adapt to and critique every culture, never fully at home in any. Yet in our hyper-connected world, Christian expressions often default to Western frameworks—sometimes even Western progressive frameworks—not always by design, but by inertia. At least part of this may be the result of the West having been shaped so profoundly by Christianity, as Mark Noll pointed out in his 2013 book, The New Shape of World Christianity: How American Experience Reflects Global Faith.
Much of the global church today finds itself in some sort of reference to the West—whether critiquing it, honoring it, distinguishing itself from it, or doing all three at once. Hence the rise of terms like African theology or Asian Christianity. But as one African scholar helpfully pointed out, American publishers rarely label their work "American theology"; they simply publish "theology." The prefixes—or lack thereof—tell a story.
No one believes in a vacuum. As the global church grows more interconnected, theological influences flow in every direction. Often imperceptibly. And that raises hard questions. What exactly is "African theology"? Is it the theology of those born and raised in Africa? Which part? From what tradition? Have African scholars such as Conrad Mbewe or Dieudonné Tamfu lost the right to speak for Africa because they have been shaped by Western theological education, thought-patterns, and resources? What of an Ethiopian trained by Europeans in Nairobi? How are Brazilians trained by Koreans in Boston situated? Or an American trained by a west Indian in Oxford and now ministering with that west Indian professor in a poor sector of east India? The global church's growing interconnectedness surely brings with it complexities.
These comments are not just raising semantic puzzles or engaging in academic exercises. They also point to the complexity and richness of global Christianity. Lausanne is part of this movement and offers an imperfect but earnest attempt to reflect Christ's global body. Could it do so better? Of course. Should we endlessly critique it? No.
"Global Christianity" remains a good and necessary term. (So, the Journal of Global Christianity will not be changing its name any time soon.) But "global Christianity" is not a brand or a moment. It's a movement—long and messy, but beautiful. We are the bride of Christ—all of us who believe the gospel, everywhere on the globe—and we are so unified with Christ that we are his greatest concern. He loves his Church. So do I.
My time as General Editor has come to a close. I will continue serving as a fellow editor of the Journal, but I'm pleased to announce that Jonathan Worthington has taken over the role of General Editor. If you've read any of his work, you know he's a gifted scholar with deep knowledge and skills across a wide range of disciplines. (One of his articles can be read in this volume.) More importantly, his heart beats for the global church. I'm confident he will lead the Journal of Global Christianity with wisdom, vision, and grace in the years ahead.
