"Let’s keep Christianity weird.” So said the Southern Baptists’ official face to the nation, Russell Moore, as he closed an address on “prophetic minorities” before a thousand pastors, artists, social entrepreneurs, and assorted others at latest edition of Q. “What is Q?” you might ask like a local woman did to me as I snapped a picture of the ten-foot-tall reclaimed wood logo that stood outside a historic hall in the shadow of the Tennessee capitol building. Telling her dryly that it was a gathering of hipster Christians only seemed to add to her confusion. (I overheard someone else try to explain it as a bit like TED for evangelicals, which apparently left his native inquisitor as perplexed as mine.) Even the basics can be cloudy—every participant I asked assumed the “Q” stood for “question” but no one really knew for sure, and Q’s website holds no direct answer.
Q seems enigmatic by design. Where else in the evangelical world can you start the day worshiping to beautiful guitar- and cello-led versions of “Be Thou My Vision” or “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” and end it with an after-party where the hard liquor is flowing freely? The topics are purposely eclectic, as are many of the participants. Fedora topped females who host Hollywood salons hobnob with tattooed urban church planters and discuss presentations that range from manners to masculinity to marionettes.