The Witch Trials of Tim Keller

In the fall of 2020, I was in the midst of moving to New York City, and because moving across the country wasn’t stressful enough, I enrolled at Reformed Theological Seminary’s New York campus. For most seminarians, that first semester is both a whirlwind and foundation-shattering. In a matter of actual days, I went from knowing everything about the Bible to realizing I knew nothing about the Bible. While I was consumed by the ideas of Q and the New Perspective on Paul, there were a handful of courses that were a respite from the complexities of biblical scholarship—courses taught by Dr. Timothy Keller.

I took courses with Tim while he was in the midst of his battle with pancreatic cancer, a battle that he lost. Likely, as a result, Tim was a little more open and forthright than he typically would be in a conference setting. He was willing to name names and respond to his list of growing critics, some of whom were even in the class! I consider it one of the great honors of my life to learn from Tim during this time. He was dying. We all knew it, and he knew it. Yet, every Tuesday afternoon, one of the great living pastors/theologians of my generation would sit for three hours to lecture and take questions from a tiny group of nobodies.

What is particularly interesting is that during this time, Tim was dragged into a number of controversies from the theological and political left, right, and center, many of which still persist to this day. Since this week marks two years since Tim left for glory, I think it’s appropriate to spend time responsibly responding to the criticism that Tim has faced.

Before we begin, four things should be noted. I am purposely borrowing (stealing?) the name and style of Griffin Gooch’s excellent article on The Witch Trials of John Mark Comer for two reasons. First, I want more subscribers. But second, and more substantially, given the nature of the criticism thrown at Tim, I think the term “witch trial” may be a stretch, but it does capture the aggression some people have taken towards him. Third, while I took courses with Tim, I do not want to overstate my relationship. He was my professor; I was his student. While I shared a handful of interactions with him, I by no means knew the man. I am fairly confident that if Tim and I ever crossed paths after class, he wouldn’t recognize me from Adam and would more than likely have started sharing the Gospel with me. Fourth, while writing this article, I asked several people who knew Tim well to review it and share their thoughts. Some were members of Tim’s family, while others had been his neighbors for decades. I’m deeply grateful for all of their feedback.

Criticism #1: Megan Basham’s Shepherds for Sale

I really enjoy reviewing books and typically post one every few weeks. When I saw the buzz surrounding Basham’s book, I figured it was worth digging into. But I quickly realized it was more than I could take on. By page 50, I had already come across multiple mischaracterizations, misleading representations, and even misquotes. Frankly, I didn’t have the time to track down and verify every source. Thankfully, others have stepped in, numerous reviews have highlighted the book’s carelessness and, in some cases, outright slander. Still, it’s generated a lot of conversation, especially since one of Basham’s main targets is Tim Keller.

Basham argues many things about Keller; her primary items are that Keller was soft on abortion (pp. 59-60), anti-Trump (pp.60-61), and soft on the historic Christian view of marriage (pp. 217-225; 230-231). So, let’s consider these claims.

1. Soft on Abortion

Tim Keller’s stance on abortion lit a firestorm when, in 2022, he posted a lengthy thread on (then) Twitter.

The part that received the most attention was:

Here are two Biblical MORAL norms: 1. It is a sin to worship idols or any God other than the true God & 2. do not murder. If you ask evangelicals if we should be forbidden by law to worship any other God than the God of the Bible — they’d say ‘no’ … We allow that terrible sin to be legal. But if you ask them if Americans should be forbidden by law to abort a baby, they'd say ‘yes.’ Now why make the first sin legal and NEVER talk about it and the second sin illegal and a main moral/political talking point? … The Bible tells us that idolatry, abortion, and ignoring the poor are all grievous sins. But it doesn’t tell us exactly HOW we are to apply these norms to a pluralistic democracy. … I know abortion is a sin, but the Bible doesn’t tell me the best political policy to decrease or end abortion in this country, nor which political or legal policies are most effective to that end.

While many have offered thoughtful responses to Keller’s views, I want to focus specifically on Basham’s critique for now. She claims that Keller “misunderstood the purpose of government” (p. 59), but that’s simply not what Keller was addressing. As he clarified in a later tweet, his point wasn’t to define the role of government or even to debate abortion, but to highlight “the inconsistency in how we apply biblical morals to law AND how Christians can have the same morals but different opinions on the policies that execute those morals.” Basham ends her argument by drawing a strange connection between the fact that Keller lives in a district that voted 79% for Clinton in 2016 and that a few individuals affiliated with Redeemer or City to City have donated to liberal causes, as supposed evidence that Keller promotes liberal ideals (p. 62). But this is not a serious argument. Even Basham admits it’s only a “handful” of people affiliated with Redeemer and its ministries who have donated to political causes. More importantly, Keller’s entire point in the thread was that faithful Christians can arrive at different policy conclusions while holding the same biblical convictions. Thus, I do not think Keller was at all “soft” on abortion (e.g., How to Reach the West Again, pp. 34-35).

2. Anti-Trump

Basham argues that Keller’s critique of Evangelicals who supported Trump, or of Trump himself, was both misguided and unbalanced. But in reality, Keller rarely spoke directly about Trump. While he certainly pushed back against the ideology often associated with Trumpism, Basham’s assertion (as noted in her index) that Keller was explicitly “anti-Trump” misrepresents his actual intent. Keller’s concern wasn’t primarily about Trump as a person or politician; it was about how the label “Evangelical” had been co-opted and politicized. He spoke about this often in class, lamenting that what once signified theological distinction had become a political identity. As he put it, “When I used [Evangelical] to describe myself in the nineteen-seventies, it meant I was not a fundamentalist. If I use the name today, however, it means to hearers that I am.” Keller’s critique, then, wasn’t aimed at Evangelicals themselves, but at what the term had come to represent in the public imagination.

3. Soft on the Historic Christian View of Marriage

In just a few pages, Basham attempts to argue that Keller had grown sympathetic to more theologically liberal views on marriage. Her case rests on his endorsement of a particular book, his very loose connections to certain organizations and movements (such as Side B Christians), and a blog post written by a former member of Keller’s church. But the argument is, at best, flimsy. Over the years, Keller consistently and publicly affirmed the historic Christian view of marriage. Basham’s effort to implicate his position by loosely associating him with peripheral figures and movements isn’t just unconvincing, it’s irresponsible.

All this to say, as charitably as I can put it, I find Basham’s book deeply concerning. While her claims may sell books and fuel endless conversations on ministry watchdog accounts, her research methods and arguments are frequently flawed, and at times seem intentionally geared toward drawing misleading conclusions. Though certain aspects of Tim Keller’s theology are certainly open to thoughtful critique, Basham’s portrayal is neither accurate nor constructive.

Criticism #2: Keller and His Third Wayism

James R. Wood, a Professor of Religion and Theology at Redeemer University in Ontario, Canada, offers a thoughtful critique of Tim Keller’s cultural engagement in his article How I Evolved on Tim Keller. While acknowledging the value of Keller’s approach to culture, politics, and urban ministry, Wood contends that it no longer meets the needs of the current cultural moment, particularly in light of the increasing hostility toward Evangelicals in America. He specifically challenges Keller’s “Third Way” strategy, arguing that it often serves as a convenient escape for Christians to avoid grappling with difficult political and social issues.

Wood’s perspective is heavily influenced by Aaron Renn’s concept of the “negative world.” In his 2022 First Things article, The Three Worlds of Evangelicalism, Renn argues that secular attitudes toward Christianity have progressed in a linear fashion: from a positive view (pre-1994), to a neutral view (1994–2014), and finally to a negative view (2014 to the present). Renn’s thesis sparked significant debate and has since become a prominent framework within mainstream Evangelical discourse. Building on this idea, Wood contends that Keller’s Third Way approach was only viable during the neutral era, when Christianity still held a degree of cultural credibility. In today’s negative world, Wood concludes, “Keller was the right man for a moment. To many, like me, it appears that moment has passed.”

While I recognize that many Evangelicals have encountered the kind of cultural disdain described by both Wood and Renn, I find the “negative world” framework to be overly simplistic. It’s true that in certain circles, being an Evangelical is not only viewed unfavorably but even perceived as threatening. However, I’m not convinced that this perception reflects the broader sentiment of most Americans. Renn’s model seems to draw more from the extremes, the loudest voices on the margins, rather than the mainstream. Moreover, a growing body of data suggests that faith and spirituality are actually on the rise in America, particularly among younger (male) generations. These trends appear to conflict with Renn’s narrative and challenge the notion that we’ve entered a wholly “negative” era for Christianity.

Returning to Tim, I believe Wood is right in many ways about his characterization of Keller’s approach, but attributing Keller’s success merely to the “neutral world” is a significant oversimplification. It’s simply not accurate to suggest that Keller thrived because he was lucky enough to minister in a culturally accommodating era. Keller planted a church in New York City in the 1980s, a place widely regarded as post-Christian long before Renn’s timeline begins. To argue that the Third Way only works in a neutral environment makes it seem as if Keller built his ministry in middle Missouri, not Midtown Manhattan. In reality, Keller’s approach wasn’t just viable in a “negative world,” it was forged and proven in one of the most challenging cultural contexts for Christian witness.

Moreover, Keller’s concept of Third Wayism has often been misrepresented. It’s frequently framed as an attempt to avoid cultural or political binaries by seeking a middle ground, a kind of moderate alternative to the extremes. But this isn’t how Keller understood or articulated his approach. His goal wasn’t to chart a novel, centrist path, but to return to a biblical framework that transcends partisan categories. As Christopher Watkin insightfully put it, “The rich complexity of God’s character comes first (Gen 1:1), not third, and to insist on its relevance to public debate is not to carve out a novel third way but to insist on the original first way from which all ideologies have wandered.” In this sense, Keller’s so-called Third Way is less about compromise and more about reclaiming a foundational, theological vision.

In summary, I agree with Wood and Renn to an extent, the cultural climate for Evangelicals today is undoubtedly more challenging. However, I disagree with the notion that Keller’s approach is outdated or that Third Wayism is merely a novel, seeker-sensitive strategy. On the contrary, Keller’s method was never about appeasement or neutrality. It was about challenging prevailing assumptions and reorienting people toward a biblical vision of truth. I believe that his approach remains a theologically grounded and culturally engaged model, not a relic of a bygone era.

Criticism #3: Keller’s Inadequate Political Theology

Wood and others have criticized Keller’s approach to politics and political theology as overly rooted in apologetics and evangelism. Wood argues that Keller was primarily concerned with how Evangelicals are perceived in the public sphere, viewing political engagement largely through the lens of political witness. As a result, Keller’s understanding of responsible Christian political engagement was, in Wood’s view, misguided. This emphasis, Wood contends, often leads Christians to allow broader cultural norms to dictate the terms of their political involvement, driven by a fear of negative public perception. Similarly, Michael Young has argued that Keller’s framework for evangelism, politics, and social justice rests on the assumption that if Christians present a persuasive and compelling public witness, secular audiences will be receptive. But, according to Young, this assumption no longer holds true. In an increasingly politicized and secular world, Keller’s approach is not only ineffective, it is fundamentally flawed.

I find Wood and Young’s critique of Keller to be somewhat balanced and constructive, and I’d like to offer both points of agreement and rebuttal. First, on the points of agreement: there’s little doubt in my mind that Keller’s primary focus was on apologetics and evangelism. I distinctly remember a moment in one of our classes when someone asked Tim how he would describe himself, and without hesitation, he replied, “I am an evangelist.” That identity was also reflected in Redeemer Presbyterian’s former tagline: “Skeptics Welcomed.” It’s clear that Keller viewed much of life, faith, culture, and politics through the lens of an evangelist. Colin Hansen, in his semi-biographical account of Keller, recounts how, when Tim first moved to New York City, he regularly met with atheists and agnostics at a diner to better understand their resistance to church. He would then preach that Sunday, addressing those very concerns. Second, I think Wood and Young are right to note that certain aspects of Keller’s approach, especially in navigating a secular and politically charged culture, will become increasingly challenging in the years ahead, and for that reason, warrant thoughtful revision.

That said, I believe both Wood and Young miss some key points, starting with Wood. I disagree with his characterization that Keller’s political approach was ultimately or solely motivated by a concern for public witness. Toward the end of his life, Keller seemed primarily focused on resisting the idea that Christianity should become “the handmaid of a particular political program” (How to Reach, p. 29). He was certainly concerned about Christian witness in the political sphere, but even more so about the tendency among some Christians to view political power as the only path to cultural influence.

Keller explicitly warned against elevating politics above other cultural arenas, saying, “We should not think that politics is any more central to the forging of culture than these other [scholarship, art, journalism, education, film-making, literature, and business] pursuits.” His vision for political engagement was shaped significantly by his friend and sociologist James Davison Hunter (who came to lecture for us on this topic). Both Keller and Hunter emphasized the importance of a “faithful presence within the culture” as the means to true cultural change. For Keller, then, political engagement was one important avenue among many, not the central one. His aim wasn’t just apologetic; it was transformational. He called for Christians to engage the public sphere with deep conviction and a biblically grounded presence. Importantly, this did not mean partisan activism. Rather, Keller advocated for a political theology that resisted the pursuit of power and encouraged robust, faithful engagement from both sides of the aisle. Thus, while Keller was concerned about a public witness, I would argue that he was more concerned with how a Christian can effectively change culture.

Second, Young argues that the era of secularists giving Christians a good-faith hearing is over. While Keller acknowledged that secularism was becoming increasingly hostile to Christianity (though he believed the Christian right did this to themselves), I don’t believe his approach is outdated. Keller championed the importance of deeply understanding opposing viewpoints, so well, in fact, that you could articulate them better than their proponents. From there, you’re equipped to critique those views in a way that presents the Gospel as intellectually credible, morally compelling, and aesthetically beautiful (Keller called it Attention, Attraction, Demonstration, and Conviction). This method demands rigorous engagement. In a course I took with Keller, we studied thinkers like Robert Bellah, Charles Taylor, Alasdair MacIntyre, and Philip Rieff to grasp the philosophical and cultural undercurrents of our time. While my take, like Young’s, is ultimately conjecture, I believe Keller’s model still works.

Today, we’re seeing a rise in overtly conservative forms of evangelicalism, marked by unambiguous stances on gender, sexuality, and abortion. While there may be strategic value in this, it risks deepening the divide between evangelicalism and secular culture. Keller’s posture was different, it was “us going to them.” He wasn’t just asking for a good-faith hearing; he was calling Christians to earn it by doing the hard intellectual and relational work. If we can understand secularism better than secularists do and articulate their worldview with clarity and charity, then we can offer the Gospel as a meaningful, persuasive alternative that is true, good, and beautiful.

More recently, Gospel in Life released an article by Tim and Kathy responding to some of these criticisms, and I’ll leave us with their words.

“I disagree [with postures such as Renn]. I know that we are very early in this conversation in the evangelical world, but I propose that, using Paul’s exhortation [1 Cor 2:1-5], we can find ways of combining the three elements of affection, resolution, and persuasion in our public discourse in a way that many secular people will find moving and some secular people will find convincing. That will grow the church, slowly but steadily, in our society.”

Conclusion

I don’t think every critique of Tim Keller has been off-base; after all, I’m not even Presbyterian! But I do believe he’s often been unfairly caricatured as an out-of-touch apologist, paralyzed by a fear of confrontation. Nothing could be further from the truth. In today’s polarized cultural and political moment, Keller’s winsome, Reformed, and intellectually engaged way of interacting with the world is needed more than ever.

As someone who lives in New York City, I often reflect on Keller’s legacy. In many ways, the city still feels his absence. He was a steady, fatherly presence for church planters and ministry leaders across the five boroughs. And yet, his influence endures. From the Geneva School of Manhattan to Reformed Theological Seminary NYC, from Redeemer’s network of churches to new church plants in places like Brooklyn, each one reflects the fruit of Keller’s long-term vision. He wasn’t just a preacher; he was an institution builder, the Christian equivalent of Robert Moses. And if his legacy is truly ineffective today, then the thousands of New Yorkers whose lives have been and are currently being transformed through his ministry clearly didn’t get the memo.