What Shall it Profit Jenkins to Sell "Jesus"?

The "Sell"

Created by Dallas Jenkins in 2017, The Chosen is a multi-season television series dramatizing the humanity of Jesus from the viewpoint of His disciples. This viewpoint isn't reconstructed from each Gospel's unique authorial perspective--such as Matthew's emphasis on Christ's Messiahship or John's personal devotion as one of the inner circle. Amazingly, it has been generated by a void--by what Jenkins calls "gaps" in the biblical record. Jenkins himself has decided what the disciples' viewpoints must have been two thousand years ago precisely from the things we have never been told.

This would seem like a formidable decision, especially if Jenkins has not depended upon either primary or secondary sources to fuel his invention. Yet Jenkins has not only been prolific in generating his material, which comprises (by his own estimate) 95% of the show; he has billed this fictional filler as both "authentic" and "relatable." One would naturally infer that Jenkins deems his content "relatable" because it isn't from long ago and far away, but calling it "authentic" when it is brand new seems a bit scurrilous. What Jenkins assumes is "relatable" is the entertainment of discovering that biblical characters were anything but exemplary. If Jesus "hung out" with men (and women) like this, then He is more "human" than we thought. And that humanity, in turn, is what makes Jenkins' Jesus "authentic."

While Jenkins' thesis might seem defensible--for Jesus was indeed a "friend of sinners" with human passions as we have--it poses both artistic and ethical dilemmas. For all Jenkins says about portraying Jesus as "more" human, it might not be so much Jesus' humanity that Jenkins feels compelled to popularize as the disciples' carnality he seeks to normalize. The disciples' carnality predicates Jesus' humanity. Jenkins is, of course, trying to show that the same human struggles with sin have persisted for millennia. If that struggle is what makes the disciples relatable, then how reliable is their viewpoint of Jesus? If they find Jesus "relatable," how holy can He be? Has Jenkins prioritized "relatability" over divinity and fiction over truth?

While critics seem to keep asking these questions of Jenkins, he doesn't appear to be asking them of himself. To him, the artistic tension between relatability and divinity isn't a dilemma. If the "human" factor is his selling point, the ends justify the means. Disciples' tainted viewpoints or no, this "more human" Jesus is the exact reason Jenkins has successfully catapulted postmodern tropes into an apparently historical context with the illusion of timeless familiarity.

All of this serves Jenkins' marketing purpose extremely well. His selling point of calling The Chosen a historical drama (featuring an actually "human" Jesus) not only markets the Bible as documentary; it makes that documentary entertaining. Who knew the Bible could be so riveting, its Jesus so relatable? Popular culture can now buy into a dusty past. It might even be argued in an eerily subconscious way that Jenkins' fans see themselves in his show precisely because it began as crowd-funded. He quite literally bought their credulity because they perceived themselves as involved in the show from its inception. They don't care when critics deconstruct their historical show as inaccurate biblically. It feels accurate historically even when only 5% of the content is factual.

How 280 million viewers have accepted Jenkins' fictional content with unprecedented zeal speaks to his bait-and-switch salesman's genius. While Jenkins juggles definitions of what is "historical" or "relatable," viewers remain glued to the most popular faith-based television series of all time.

The Gimmick

So, what's the problem? Aren't millions upon millions of people hearing about Jesus--a Jesus who came to save disciples such as these? Yes, supposedly. But when the so-called "gaps" Jenkins finds in Scripture's four Gospel accounts of the historical Jesus require a seven-season series of eight episodes apiece to fill, we have an expansion miracle rivaling that of the five loaves and two fish. Do the math, and find that Jenkins has projected a total of 56 episodes of 50-60 minutes each. That's roughly 51 hours of material.

Now consider the fact that a good reader could read the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John in about five hours, and you have at least 46 additional hours of content created by Jenkins and his co-writers--that's if Jenkins has filmed the Gospels as written. We should point out, however, that Jenkins replaces large portions of Jesus' teachings with his own imagined "backstories," bringing his total of added hours back up closer to the original 51. Obviously, a person could read faster than an actor could speak or act, so these totaled hours are not a neat and tidy sum, but Jenkins' filled "gaps" are significant. He has indeed found enough "gaps" for an entire series.

Put those 51 hours of added material in writing (or publish the show's content as supplements to Scripture--which is actually being done), and fill hypothetically anywhere from 1,840 to 2,760 pages. Compare that heft to a range of 120 to 500 pages required to print the four Gospels, depending upon the text and formatting used, and Jenkins' filled "gaps" overwhelm the biblical record easily five and a half times over. Gaps indeed. What is it the Apostle John says at the close of his Gospel? "And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written" (John 21:25). The point isn't that there aren't "gaps."

The point is that even the Apostle John didn't attempt to fill them. Isn't it interesting that John is instead led by the Holy Spirit to record the Lord's prohibition against adding to Scripture (Revelation 22:18-19), when he himself could have filled multiple volumes with eyewitness accounts that were authentic? Those who argue that John is referring merely to the prophecies in Revelation must also contend with Moses' words in Deuteronomy 4:2 and with Agur's words in Proverbs 30:6. Scripture makes clear that no one can add to or take away from God's Word without being condemned as a liar.

In that case, whose Jesus does The Chosen feature in all those "plausible" episodes that Jenkins has added with his own seal of "authenticity" two thousand years later? This "Jesus" whose humanity has finally been unveiled--after two millennia of obscurity--is Jenkins' Jesus. He is what Paul the Apostle calls "another Jesus." And how could it be otherwise? These episodes didn't happen. They are pure fiction--and bad fiction, at that. Even Jenkins' co-writers and consultants sometimes disagree with his highly implausible narratives, such as making Peter fish on the Sabbath. No self-respecting Jew would do that. But no one could get this fact through Jenkins' head, so he filmed his melodrama anyway.

This example, of which there are others, proves that Jenkins follows no checks and balances when he has an agenda to fulfill. In the end, if he isn't even answerable to his own handpicked writers and consultants, how are we to believe that Jenkins gives deference to the Scriptures when they conflict with his purpose? But not to worry, for Jenkins has convinced his millions of fans that The Chosen is just a show--and that's the gimmick.

The "Merch"

This fact becomes even more sobering when we learn that Dallas Jenkins is indeed collecting his material into publishable form. Jerry Jenkins, Dallas's father who has become famous (or infamous) for his fictional Left Behind series, is now adapting his son's film scripts into a series of novels. As of July 15, 2025, there are five The Chosen novels, totaling 1,792 pages. Apparently, each novel--based on a specific season of the series--expands the story with more character inner monologues and backstories. Fiction on top of fiction, in other words--to make the stories more and more believable and to drive Jenkins' "chosen" disciples deeper and deeper into his viewers' consciousness, until they are more familiar with Jenkins' invented personae--which aren't even based on historical secondary sources--than they are with the Bible's primary sources authored by God Himself.

But isn't that Jenkins' point? He has created a world of his own, a gospel of his own, and a Jesus of his own. But that's not all. Jenkins also has a curriculum of his own. Pretty soon, we will hear of someone graduating from the Jenkins School of Theology with a Th.D. in The Chosen. I'm not exactly being facetious. Jenkins is now offering numerous Bible study guides based on The Chosen. His wife Amanda, along with other collaborators, is authoring this endeavor. These study guides are grounded in the scripts, themes, and scriptural context of Jenkins' episodes. I have read reports of churches that are launching this curriculum for corporate study, and some even feature video clips as part of the morning message. Jenkins, it would seem, has reached the pinnacle of success that Satan offered to Jesus if He would only bow down and worship him. All the kingdoms of the world and some yet to be found seem to lie at Jenkins' feet.

But there's more. Standalone devotional books that are separate from both the novel series and the Bible study materials are also now available for spiritual consumption. These, too, come in a series paralleling the show exactly--one episode, one volume. Each volume contains 40 readings, including a Bible excerpt, a devotional anecdote, a scripted prayer, and provocative questions. These devotional books are crafted to engage readers with the stories and themes from the show on a personal level.

Are we really not supposed to catch on that Dallas Jenkins has launched a full scale war of aggression against those who criticize the spiritual content of his show? Who could stand up to a Goliath of this stature? Not only is The Chosen and all its merchandise ubiquitous; Jenkins would also make it synonymous with Scripture--even though he goes on record as saying The Chosen isn't Scripture, doesn't replace Scripture, and should point to Scripture--with all of its 5% factual content working overtime to present biblical truth.

It seems that Dallas and his father Jerry both have a genius for making money off the gospel with a pious face and a heart of gold. Or is it a Midas touch? But Jenkins seems to have no gold standard for verifying the truth of his show. He pretends his show is authentic when it's almost completely made up with no end in sight. Like the little bit of leaven that leavens the whole lump, The Chosen has swelled over the lip of the loaf pan and is half-baked to boot. Or, like the green bay tree of Psalm 37 that spreads its wicked pride across the landscape, it seems to mock the meek little mustard seed of faith that accepts the Gospels exactly as they are.

But Jenkins isn't appealing to faith. His sole purpose is to woo his audience by sight. Sight requires merchandise. Jenkins imagines everything so we don't have to. And he sells his insights as authentic without batting an eye. We could all benefit from this dose of "authenticity": we could all imagine, if we wanted to, what Jesus' childhood was like, what His carpentry entailed, or what He did to help His young little mother. But why would we do that when we could spend our time studying what Jesus teaches us about God? But Jenkins isn't about actual doctrine or explicit teaching. He's about narrative--and false narrative, at that. In fact, I wonder if this term was invented with his family in mind.

And what of his claim that his show never contradicts Scripture? Isn't this misleading when it is impossible to contradict an episode that doesn't exist in the first place? But Jenkins' fans have been beguiled by this bewitching line of thinking and have bought into his sales pitch with borderline disrespect to the Scriptures, treating them--pardon the very expression--as a "necessary evil" or as the mere "dictionary" of truth, of which The Chosen is the epic upgrade.

And as for their claim that Jenkins' critics care more for biblical accuracy than for souls, you would think The Chosen was a Billy Graham Crusade rather than a show designed to prey on one's emotions--or pocketbook. Jenkins knows that if he can reach his audience emotionally, he can also hook them into needing all his extra merchandise. Suppose a particularly avid Chosen fan wants to take Jenkins up on all his merch. This would include the following:

• Apparel: T-shirts, hoodies, long-sleeve shirts, sweatshirts, beanies, hats, and wristbands with various logos and sayings ("Binge Jesus," "Against the Current," "Come and See," "5 & 2," etc.).

• Media: DVDs and Blu-ray discs for all available seasons, as well as music CDs.

• Books & Art: The Season 2 Poster Collection book, graphic novels, devotional books (like 40 Days with Jesus), and various art prints.

• Accessories & Gifts: Mugs, tumblers, phone cases, jewelry (necklaces, bracelets, lapel pins), stickers, puzzles, and even plush toys. 

The list above doesn't appear to include The Chosen novels compiled by Jerry Jenkins. I'm sure these would be a must-have. There are approximately 140 unique merchandise items to purchase for The Chosen, with the cost per item ranging from $15 to over $50.

The Profit

When I searched what the total cost would be to purchase all of these possible items (supposing a Chosen addict would actually do that), the answer was this: to buy every possible piece of The Chosen merchandise would cost thousands of dollars. But without a full inventory and current pricing, it would be impossible to nail down an exact sum, as items and availability constantly change. Multiply that by 280 million viewers, and Jenkins can retire tomorrow. (I wish he would.) But fans are told that the merchandise is a "significant way" for them to support the show and its future seasons. I wonder if this means that the sale of these items will discontinue after the last episode of the final season airs.

Can you imagine someone stretching their legs during lunch break to show off their Chosen socks (yes, that was listed elsewhere), while drinking coffee from their Chosen mug held by a hand sporting a Chosen wristband while their head, donning a Chosen hat backwards, bends over a Chosen novel? It seems pretty clear to me that Jenkins' fans don't have a chance. His hand is certainly in their pocket, and he would clothe them head to toe in his show if he could. Oh, yeah, I forgot the Chosen sweatshirt. I'm surprised they don't already carry flip-flops.

Can you imagine if anyone dared to be as addicted to the Bible as Jenkins' fans are to his show? But I don't see them crossing over their loyalties any time soon. You don't have to be a prosecuting attorney to realize that the evidence mounts up quickly to convict Jenkins' fans of preferring his show to Scripture. When the Bible itself creates the controversy over The Chosen, Jenkins has deconstructed his own claim that his show points people to the Bible. Despite The Chosen's immense popularity and claim to worldwide evangelism, the "gospel" is delivered obliquely, if at all. If faith comes by hearing God's Word--which it does--I don't understand how Jenkins justifies his expressed artistic purpose not to teach the Bible. If I even believed that he created his massive curriculum to teach it outside the show, I might feel better, but he prioritizes his own episodes as if they are equal with Scripture.

The "confusion mix" tells me one thing: Jenkins has become the master of gaslighting, and those he has taken captive don't seem to have spotted his deception. Most galling of all is his presumption that his fictionalized show is a better evangelistic tool than a show that strictly follows the Bible. But by creating his own script, Jenkins can justify the fact that it stretches out indefinitely. Time equals profit, right? Journalist Bree A. Dail exposes Jenkins' financial dealings in well-researched articles and podcasts that tell a different story than you will find in a superficial Google search.

And it is difficult to deny Jenkins' temptation to any profit motive when he is himself an avid poker player. Although Jenkins claims that playing poker is not gambling since it is a game of skill and since he does not play for large amounts of money, he is reported to have won over $57,000 from his hobby, with his best live cash winning totaling over $30,000. Most of us would call those amounts a lot of money. The fact that Jenkins doesn't is concerning in itself.

The Cost

Did Christ without cause warn us of the deceitfulness of riches (Mark 4:19)? Who wants to take on this battle for integrity in a day where almost nothing seems wrong anymore? It is Jenkins' self-validating worldview that his followers are eating up like bread. Their spiritual hunger has been slacked by consuming that which is not bread but a stone, and I wonder if we read Matthew 25: 41-46 in this light if we might see that Jenkins leaves his followers starving, after all.

Jenkins is selling a "human" Jesus. And this Jesus is selling indeed. But the true followers of the biblical Jesus aren't buying what Jenkins is offering. Thankfully, a growing base is fighting against it, sadly knowing, however, that those who succumb to apostasy rarely return to the truth.