A second act

The most hard-core fans at ChosenCon look like they stepped out of the New Testament into sunny central Florida. They don brown sandals, tunics, beaded headdresses, Roman-inspired regalia, or Moses-like robes cinched around the waist with rope, before gathering expectantly to hear the weekend’s big announcement.

The 5,000-strong crowd roars when show creator Dallas Jenkins unveils new installments in The Chosen universe: an animated kids’ show, two series on the lives of Moses and Joseph, another on the book of Acts, and—perhaps most improbably—a reality show featuring The Chosen cast members testing their limits in the wild outdoors with British TV adventurer Bear Grylls.

All promise to give fans what they long for: assurance that the popular show based on the life of Christ will not end with the Resurrection.

The Chosen, which debuted in 2017, has released four of a planned seven seasons. It reenacts the Gospel stories with production quality rare for faith-based films and Biblical fidelity unheard of in Hollywood. Season 5 will debut in 2025 and follow Jesus during Holy Week. Seasons 6 and 7 will launch in 2027 and 2028, with dubs and subtitles in many languages. The show boasts 200 million viewers in 175 countries and streams on major platforms as well as on its own app.

Its popularity has spilled over into this annual conference where the show’s cast members mingle with adoring fans. At ChosenCon, where many attendees sport “Binge Jesus” T-shirts, it feels like all of Christendom loves The Chosen. But outside the concourses of this Marriott hotel, the show’s invented backstories and embellished characters have plenty of critics.

Pastor Zachary Groff, who serves the congregation of Antioch Presbyterian Church in Woodruff, S.C., is one. For Groff and others in Reformed traditions, images of Christ amount to idolatry because they undermine the way God chose to reveal Christ—through the Bible. He points out that actors who play Christ end up getting a level of influence they would never have had if not for playing that role.

“Evangelical culture in America really, really needs to watch out … for this impulse to lionize and idolize celebrities, be they actors or pastors,” Groff says.

The crowd’s response to Jonathan Roumie, the Roman Catholic actor who plays Jesus, seems to make Groff’s point. Roumie couldn’t make it to the conference this year because he’s working on another project on the shores of the Indian Ocean. But fans welcomed his prerecorded video message with thunderous applause.

Actor Luke Dimyan (center), who portrays Judas Iscariot in The Chosen, poses with fans at ChosenCon. Gerardo Mora / Getty Images for The Chosen Insiders Conference

Many who love The Chosen say they feel that through the show they’ve finally connected to the humanity of the disciples and of Christ. Some fans are so thrilled by this closeness they literally want to be a part of it, and many of the costumed fans at ChosenCon are wearing outfits they made themselves so they could appear as extras in previous seasons.

From Thursday to Saturday, fans move between sessions to get behind-the-scenes details from the cast, writers, makeup and hair artists, and costume designers, as well as the three men (a Jewish rabbi, a Catholic priest, and a Protestant scholar) who consult with the writers.

Portraits of the show’s main characters splash much larger than life on the Marriott walls: the enigmatic Judas, placid Mary Magdalene, and fan favorite Matthew, who adds to the former tax collector’s character a magnetic quirk: autism.

“I’m not on the spectrum,” actor Paras Patel tells fans in one of the panels. “But I do my best to be the very best ambassador I can be.”

Many are drawn to The Chosen for its treatment of disability. In the show, Jesus can and does heal. But he doesn’t heal everyone—not even all his disciples. In the concourse between sessions, fans cheer when they spot Jordan Walker Ross, an actor with cerebral palsy and scoliosis who portrays the disabled disciple called Little James. He limps along the periphery of the crowd, his disability more obvious in street clothes than on film, where a robe obscures more of his legs. He waves a humble hand of thanks.

Jenkins admits Protestantism has an admirable distrust of idolatry, but “that doesn’t mean that making paintings, or statues, or stained glass windows is wrong,” he insists. “It’s wrong to worship those things. Sometimes we overcorrect.”

Groff notes this isn’t a new issue. “Going all the way back to the early medieval church there were debates about icons and iconoclasm, and the worship of God through icons, and even that debate began with the argument that making pictures of Jesus helps us educate an illiterate people.”

And indeed, The Chosen has taken deft and persuasive aim at an America where Biblical literacy has evaporated. It aims also at folks in the Church who have imagined a rigidity into Jesus that maybe doesn’t exist.

For Groff, the compelling nature of moving pictures can make deception more potent. But Jenkins calls The Chosen an “icon intended to reflect or point people toward the real thing.”

“I’m not God, Jonathan isn’t Jesus, the show isn’t the Bible,” he says. “Do not treat this as an object of worship.”

As for his critics, they don’t bother him: “If I was concerned about criticism when I started this, I certainly wouldn’t have done a Jesus show.”