In every era, people live within a particular “mood” or “tone” of culture, a way of looking at the world that shapes how we think, feel, and live. Just as the Renaissance was marked by a spirit of rediscovery, and the Enlightenment by reason and progress, our own age is shaped by what some scholars call metamodernism. For Christians, it is essential to understand this cultural mood, not only to see how it influences us and those around us, but also to clearly articulate the gospel.
The Road to Metamodernism
To understand metamodernism and how we got here, we first need to grasp what came before it: modernism and postmodernism. These terms may sound abstract, but they describe real shifts in how people view truth, meaning, and reality.
Modernism (c.1600 – 1950) arose during the Enlightenment and emphasized reason, science, human progress, and objective truth. Modern thinkers believed that through knowledge and scientific discovery, humanity could improve the world and solve most problems. It was optimistic, confident, and focused on universal truths. Christianity during this period often tried to show that the Bible could stand up to rational scrutiny and historical evidence. Many of the techniques employed by classical apologetical methods (i.e., evidentialism) were refined as a result of the philosophical and academic pursuits of this era.
Postmodernism (c.1960 – 2000) pushed back. After two world wars, the Holocaust, and growing distrust in institutions (particularly the academy and government), many people began to question whether truth was truly universal. Postmodern thinkers speculated that all truth is “relative”—that is, shaped by culture, language, and personal perspective. It distrusted “grand narratives” (like those propagated by religious systems), emphasized irony and skepticism, and often played with meaning rather than seeking certainty. In this context, apologetics became much harder. If “truth” is just a matter of opinion, how do we persuade anyone of the gospel?
What is Metamodernism?
Metamodernism is defined by oscillation—that is, a back-and-forth movement between sincerity and irony, hope and doubt, meaning and meaninglessness.
Metamodernism is the term that has emerged to describe the cultural mood that comes after postmodernism. The term first appeared in 1975 by Mas’ud Zavarzadeh to describe certain trends in American literature. It appeared again in 1999 when Moyo Okediji used it in reference to certain facets of African-American art. But it would not be until a massive and expansive research project by cultural theorists Timotheus Vermeulen and Robin van den Akker, undertaken from 2009 to 2016, that the term would enter mainstream academia. Metamodernism does not throw out everything that came before; instead, it combines aspects of both modernism and postmodernism. That is where it gets its name: meta (Greek for “after” or “beyond”) and modernism.
Writing for Notes on Metamodernism, Luke Turner makes the following observations:
In the wake of myriad crises of the past two decades—of climate change, financial meltdown, and the escalation of global conflicts—we have witnessed the emergence of a palpable collective desire for change, for something beyond the prematurely proclaimed ‘End of History.’ Ours is a generation raised in the ‘80s and ‘90s, on a diet of The Simpsons and South Park, for whom postmodern irony and cynicism is a default setting, something ingrained in us. However, despite, or rather because of this, a yearning for meaning—for sincere and constructive progression and expression—has come to shape today’s dominant cultural mode.
But metamodernism is more than just “modernism 2.0.” It is defined by oscillation—that is, a back-and-forth movement between sincerity and irony, hope and doubt, meaning and meaninglessness. It is often depicted using the metaphor of a pendulum that is constantly swinging between the sincere seriousness of modernism and the ironic playfulness of postmodernism. It recognizes the way we long for things like truth and meaning, even if we know that we cannot fully grasp them. A key idea in metamodernism is that of informed naïveté, being hopeful and idealistic, but with full awareness of the complexity of life.
For example, a modernist might look at a love story and say, “Love is a real thing, it is a universal human experience, grounded in reason, and the natural result of certain biological functions.” A postmodernist might say, “There’s no such thing as true love. Love is just a social construct—ideas made up by culture and media.” But a metamodernist would likely say, “I know love is complicated and messy, and I realize it may be shaped by culture—but I still believe in it anyway.”
Cultural Signs of Metamodernism
We can see metamodernism in movies, music, art, and, in particular, “online culture.” Take a film like Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022). It is chaotic and absurd—very postmodern in style—but at the heart of its story is a sincere longing for connection, love, and purpose. It is a film that embraces meaning even amid confusion. Consider this interview with the film’s directors:
With allusions, there’s a danger that the filmmaker is using a cheap trick to engage their audience, referencing a popular thing the viewer already presumably loves. However, the allusions that Daniels employ … feel personal, like a poignant form of postmodernism. When I posed this to Daniels, Kwan pondered, “I think that’s the version of post-postmodernism that we’re hunting for—that metamodernism, if I’m going to be obnoxious.”
“It’s us trying to grapple with the fact that we are film lovers, who’ve grown up watching so many movies, so much so that we can guess everything that’s going to happen,” Kwan continued. “Everyone is so savvy. We’re so film-literate that it’s really hard to surprise (the audience). And this film is basically trying to acknowledge that weird thing that’s happening right now, where we are at peak media saturation, peak story saturation. And we didn’t want to ignore the fact that we know this audience doesn’t exist in a historic vacuum.”
Along these same lines, consider the current state of “internet culture.” Memes today often blend humor, depression, and sincerity all at once. Someone might post a joke about feeling hopeless—but they do so in a way that invites others to laugh, relate, and feel less lonely. Irony and sincerity stand side-by-side, in a way that is made more pronounced by the very fact the two ideas are fundamentally opposed. The contradiction is the point.
“Everything is meaningless…
but at least there’s coffee.”
A good example is the rise of “sad memes” or “doomer humor.” A meme might show a cartoon figure staring into the void with a caption like, “Everything is meaningless… but at least there’s coffee.” On the surface, it is bleak and ironic. But, nevertheless, there is some kind of genuine expression of vulnerability in the image, and this is a prime example of the metamodern tone: embracing emotional honesty without abandoning the self-awareness and absurdity of postmodern humor.
We also see this blend in the way people talk online about mental health. While previous generations may have treated such struggles as private or taboo, younger generations today are more likely to talk about their struggles openly—but often and only through layers of humor, memes, and cultural references. This kind of communication would make little sense in a purely modern or postmodern context. But the metamodern sensibility thrives in this space between—where joking and honesty can coexist without canceling each other out.
Even the state of politics today reflects this “cultural mood.” Many younger individuals are skeptical of institutions but still want to make the world better. They might criticize the system while still pushing for social justice or change within the context of the system itself. This is indicative of the metamodern mood: hopeful but cautious, sincere but self-aware, believing while doubting all the same.
Why Metamodernism Matters for Christians
The Christian has to be able to respond not just to ideas, but to moods.
So, what has this to do with Christian apologetics? Apologetics is about giving reasons for the hope we have in Christ (1 Peter 3:15). But those reasons need to make sense to the people around us. If we are only speaking modernist language (focusing purely on logic and proof) or postmodernist language (deconstructing narratives and critiquing systems) to metamodern people, there is the sense that we are “missing the mark.” The Christian has to be able to respond not just to ideas, but to moods. The way we talk about truth, meaning, and belief needs to answer the questions that people are actually asking.
Modernism emphasized objective truth discovered through science and reason. Postmodernism rejected that, and argued that all truth is relative. Metamodernism does not fully return to either. It does not believe in absolute truth—yet it longs for it. This is the primary tension: admitting one’s own uncertainty while still “reaching” for something “real.”
People want to believe in love, justice, purpose—but, by-and-large, we have learned, from postmodernism and experience, just how fragile those ideas can be. The result is a kind of emotional and intellectual tug-of-war. Contrasting much of what I was taught in seminary about people outside of the church, many people are not hardened skeptics; they’re hopeful doubters. They do not reject faith outright, but they hesitate to commit to anything that might ask something of them. Metamodernism asks us to be sincere—but only in quotation marks.
This is where the Christian apologist finds both opportunity and challenge. There is an open door here—but it is guarded by deep suspicion. People seek meaning, but they’ve been burned by too many false promises. They want truth, but they’re afraid of being fooled. Like Fox Mulder, they want to believe, but they are uncomfortable taking anything—especially faith—too seriously.
This discomfort is perhaps the greatest threat posed by metamodernism. It makes sincerity suspicious, as if any deep conviction must be performative, manipulative, or naïve. It places irony like a shield around the heart. Even belief must be couched in a joke, lest it appear too vulnerable. The risk is that we begin to believe nothing deeply at all, lest we look foolish for even having cared.
The cross demands something that does not survive under a constant layer of irony.
But Scripture pushes us in the opposite direction. The father who cries out in Mark 9:24, “I do believe; help my unbelief” is not ironic—he’s quite desperate. David in the Psalms doesn’t wink at his own pain—he lays it bare. These are quite serious expressions of faith, and they are honored in the biblical text, not mocked. The Bible very clearly allows space for questions, for doubt, for wrestling with one’s faith—but always with the earnest longing to encounter the living God.
The Christian must meet metamodern people there, in that tension, while challenging the shallowness that irony can produce. Metamodernism tells us that nothing can be entirely trusted, and that, unlike the postmodernists with their cynical deconstructions, it is simply safer to keep everything light. But the gospel does not permit detachment. Jesus does not say, “Follow me—but only if it is comfortable for you.” The cross demands something that does not survive under a constant layer of irony.
This is why the Christian today should be marked by genuine presence and integrity. Metamodern people can spot fake sincerity from a mile away. They value what they perceive as authenticity. But this cultural moment demands something more: people who actually believe, not just people who “believe ironically.” This puts even more pressure on the Christian today to be humble, self-aware, and genuine. There is less room for shallowness—looking at you, megachurches!—now than there was even just ten years ago.
So, how does the Christian live faithfully in the metamodern age?
Practice humility. Be confident in the gospel—but humble in posture. Listen well. Admit when you don’t know things. Be willing to say, “That’s a good question.”
Learn better stories. Facts matter, but stories capture the heart. The gospel is given to us as a story. The great twentieth century Christian apologist C. S. Lewis understood this when he wrote that “stories help us understand the meaning of the world (and I would add: good stories understand us),” and that “the heart of Christianity is a myth which is also a fact.” Christians are, at the end of the day, people of a book. Christians should be some of the best readers walking on the planet today.
Be present. In an age of digital noise and fractured attention spans, being present is paramount. Listen carefully. Talk to people face-to-face. The love of Christ is often most visible through small, consistent acts of uncomplicated kindness.
