The Rapture’s cultish community is a reminder that the world needs full-fat faith

Set in the near-future during an insufferable heatwave, the BBC could hardly have timed their release of the The Rapture, any better. As I write, Europe is in the grip of the fourth heatwave of 2026, so scenes of the arid Welsh countryside, with dying foliage and blazing forests, seem almost like the new normal.

Against that backdrop, people - doing their best to live and work in buildings ill-suited to stifling temperatures - are on edge. The oil industry has its sight set on expansion; eco-activist groups oppose them, and the politicians are battling to keep the electorate on board. Enter a new cultish group called ‘Faith Way’, with their strapline: “Choose Hope”. 

Founded by Leonard Krall (Sam Hazeldine), a reinvented, charismatic Christian pastor who perceives a need to offer comfort to the disquieted people, Krall plants hundreds of congregations in disused church buildings across the UK. He leads his people with insipid clichés, a smattering of bible verses and infantile chants. Never has a church garden party served tea as weak as this faith offering. Yet, it resonates with a society seeking belonging and hope against a backdrop of calamity.

The plot of The Rapture revolves around the historic murder of Krall’s wife, his teenage daughter (India Amarteifio) who was convicted of her murder, and a forensic psychologist (Ruth Madeley) trying to treat her in a secure hospital.

As a mystery thriller, the acting is convincing. But the environmental heroes and industrial villains can seem slightly pantomime. The narrative arc is also overly simplistic, with black and white solutions that take little account of where we currently are and how we might practically move to a genuinely sustainable future.

A cosmic therapist

But what of the presentation of Christianity in The Rapture? Arguably, the series is mis-named - blink and you’d miss the reference to rapture theology. However, there are still some interesting themes for Christians to consider.

The ‘Faith Way’ movement is a perfect expression of what academics Christian Smith and Melinda Lundquist Denton named Moralistic Therapeutic Deism (MTD). In a 2005 study, they interviewed 3,000 American teenagers, examining their religious beliefs, spiritual lives, moral reasoning and attitudes towards religion.

From this, they defined MTD not as a formal religion or coherent theological system, but as a collection of widely shared assumptions that have become embedded in contemporary Christian culture.

This combines three elements. It is moralistic because it teaches that God wants people to be good, nice and fair. It is therapeutic because the central purpose of life is understood as achieving happiness and feeling good about oneself, valued only for the emotional support and practical benefits it provides.

It is deistic because God is believed to exist, to have created and ordered the world, and established a moral framework, but is largely distant from everyday human affairs, becoming involved principally when people need help.

Never has a church garden party served tea as weak as this faith offering

Smith and Denton summarise this view of God as “something like a blend of a Divine Butler and Cosmic Therapist”: God is available when needed, helps people feel better, but does not make significant demands upon their lives.

MTD therefore contrasts sharply with Christianity’s emphasis on repentance, prayer, discipleship, sacrifice, obedience and a personal relationship with a God who actively calls people to transformation.

In 2009, Damon Linker describes MTD as “this watered-down, anaemic, insipid form of Judeo-Christianity,” which is “pretty repulsive” theologically, though politically “perfect” because it is “thoroughly anodyne, inoffensive, tolerant.”

And in 2010, Kenda Creasy Dean wrote that churches may themselves be responsible for this outcome, teaching young people “that Christianity is not a big deal, that God requires little, and the Church is a helpful social institution filled with nice people.”

She concludes that if churches practice MTD in the name of Christianity, simply increasing teenage attendance may make the problem worse. Instead, “a more faithful church is the solution.”

Full-fat faith

A generation on from these studies, what do we see emerging in our culture? Are we in danger of surrendering the Church to the ‘Faith Way’?

Thankfully, recent indications suggest the opposite. The denominations distancing themselves from historic faith claims and seeking to align with modern secular values, are struggling. By comparison, those adhering to the doctrines, creeds and intellectual heritage laid down over 2,000 years are reporting a surprising influx of adult converts.

The world is shifting at an alarming rate. Climate change and the associated severe weather patterns are causing distress and ruining livelihoods. Add to this: global conflict, he socio-economic crisis facing young people and the apocalyptic predictions of AI experts, and we can well understand why people are reaching out for solid ground on which to stand.

It remains essential for Christians to articulate the specific and particular claims of our faith. The modernist love of truth has given ground to the post-modern preference for feelings, so we must not be afraid to reverse this with renewed emphasis on solid teaching and discipleship. Our challenge is to stand firm and “earnestly contend for the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 1:3).