TikTok's "Jesus glow" trend exposes the emptiness of social media religion

Forget drinking water and exercise. According to the Christian influencers of TikTok, the hottest new beauty trend is accepting Jesus Christ as your lord and savior. The still-unbanned social media site is currently awash in before-and-after videos from people purporting to be recent converts, celebrating their physical transformation from alleged misfit to their current "Jesus glow" status. There's the former goth who now sports a prairie dress look.

@mikaila_gentry Jesus saved my life if it wasnt for him I wouldn’t still be here.. #jesusglowup #jesusglow #jesusglowisreal #yourneverfullydressedwithoutasmile #tiktok #tiktokchallenge ♬ original sound - leahqrx

Or a bodybuilder who has now shrunk herself into a more petite figure, complete with blonder hair.

@taylorcolbow Crazy to look back on who I once was before Christ… but my story is my testimony of the goodness of God ✝️ #jesusglow #christian #fyp #jesus #holyspirit #transformation #demons #testimony #blessed #spirituality #jesusislord #blessed ♬ deja vu x traitor - del.audios

Or a woman who once cried in dark cars but now lives in sunlight while wearing more expensive clothes.

@kendallmaynard25 he is real and he is healing. #easter #trending #jesus #viral #relatable #real #blowthisup #blowthisup #dontletthisflop ♬ original sound - Gypsy

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Regardless of the details of the personal change, the posture is defensive. "The Jesus glow isn't real," the text reads, usually over the "before" image. On the "after" image, the text is some variation of "wrong, it is" or "I must disagree." In my searches, I did not find the angry atheist denying the truth of the "Jesus glow" that all these folks are supposedly responding to. This skeptic is likely fictional. The viewer is left to assume this imaginary person is still out there, glowering with hate and, more importantly, being punished for their unbelief with outward ugliness. So unlike these TikTokers, who are rewarded for their faith with beauty.

A close watch of the videos suggests people looked fine in their former lives as heretics. They often rely on tricks like lighting and filters to exaggerate the contrast between then and now. Mostly, they're just dressing differently. As Taylor Leigh and Drew McCoy of the Antibot YouTube channel argued, these folks aren't objectively better-looking in their "after" images. They're just conforming more to a right-wing vision of proper gender presentation, often one with white supremacist overtones, as the "Jesus glow" effect on hair frequently requires the aid of a bleach bottle. It's a level of conformity that McCoy semi-joked verges on "gender religion."

It's also profoundly silly. The "proof" of one's connection to God is that you have good looks. There's nothing in here of the Jesus of the Bible, who served the poor and disabled. These videos don't present as overtly political, but they reflect the ethos of MAGA Christianity, where empathy is now described as a "sin." It's in line with the Hallow prayer app, which I reported on last month, which also downplayed traditional Christian concerns about social justice and loving your neighbor, replacing it with a self-improvement vibe indistinguishable from what one finds from "wellness" influencers. This trend takes the narcissism of MAGA Christianity even further by presenting it as the highest form of holiness to actively seek the envy of others.

For decades, American religiosity has been in decline, with each generation abandoning religion in greater numbers. In 2020, for the first time ever, fewer than half of Americans belonged to a church. That trend hasn't reversed with Gen Z, but it has stalled out. Multiple surveys show that Americans under 30 self-identify as Christian at the same rate as the millennial generation before them, though still at far lower levels than older Americans. The Christian pollster Barna even goes as far as to claim, "Millennials and Gen Z have shown significant increases in commitment to Jesus." Pew Research shows Christian identification has leveled off, but not grown. The difference may be in how the two firms asked the question, as Barna notes that not everyone who claims a commitment to Jesus identifies as a "Christian."

Pew researcher Becka Alper told Salon that younger Christians attend church at the same rate as older Christians, but "younger Christians (ages 18-49) are more likely than older Christians to say they follow celebrities, authors, pastors, or their own religious leaders online." Barna's numbers suggest that the impact of online influencers may be greater, because "we are seeing interest in Jesus that is growing among those who do not otherwise describe themselves as Christians," especially with younger people. Jenna Mindel of Christianity Today argued in November that, while Gen Zers aren't going to church in large numbers, "young adults are flocking to virtual spaces rather than physical ones." Many of the people who say their religion is "nothing in particular" on surveys, she argues, are constructing bespoke Jesus-centered spiritual identities through online content.

The "Jesus glow" TikTok trend suggests one reason: A lot of online Christian content is shallow self-help, presented in a way that's not so different from what beauty influencers or dating coaches offer. In my reporting on the popular "Girls Gone Bible" podcast, readers can see the same forces in action. Their podcast initially seems not just apolitical, but focused primarily on the self, with titles like "What Men Look For In A Wife" or "Honest Convo About Anxiety." It feels like another variation on the endless online content on self-improvement, but with a sprinkling of scripture on top of the talk about dating or improving your daily mood. But, of course, the hosts are selling a far-right agenda with this soft focus framing, as evidenced by their tight relationship with Donald Trump and the rigidly conservative dictates on sexual behavior they prescribe for their audience.

The conservatism of the "Jesus glow" TikTok is evident in the way it valorizes conformity and "traditional" gender over creative self-expression. Its special MAGA flare comes from how it apes the imaginary victimization that characterizes Trump and his followers. These aren't just videos extolling the beautification powers of faith, but are posited as an angry rebuttal to an imagined hater who is denying the existence of the "Jesus glow." It's reminiscent of how anti-vaccine influencers rail against an amorphous "Big Pharma" that allegedly wants people to get autism for unspecified but evil reasons. In the "Jesus glow" videos, we're to imagine that atheists want people to be ugly or sad, again, for reasons that are never articulated. Atheists are just big meanies, at least the fictional ones conservative Christians online are forever railing against.

Trump won in 2024 in no small part because of a rightward lurch among younger voters, which was fueled by the onslaught of MAGA propaganda in online spaces Gen Z frequents. The "Jesus glow" trend reflects how insidious this can be. Conservative Christianity is being pitched to young people as a miracle beauty treatment, one that's implied to come at no real cost. But while being "saved" by MAGA Jesus is free, it can come at a high personal cost, starting with the expectation that being a Christian means voting for Trump. The soaring tariffs will take away people's actual beauty creams, and, I hate to break it to folks, but it's true: the "Jesus glow" isn't real. I'm not saying it to be mean, but to be honest. That's just a filter people are using on their phones.