Amazon Prime’s latest reality TV offering which sees 1,000 people compete for $5m has divided critics. But Max Avard says the presence of an inspirational Christian contestant makes Mr Beast’s show an unlikely source of hope
How many times have you seen someone praying, worshipping and calling on the name of God on mainstream TV?
Not often, I imagine. I’m always shocked when I see overt displays of faith on the box, so imagine my surprise when I found God on Mr Beast’s latest show, Beast Games.
Mr Beast is what you might call “chronically online famous”. In other words, he’s one of the most famous people on the planet, but only to those who’ve grown up on social media. At just 26, he already earns around $700 million a year, has attracted more than 500 million subscribers, and racked up a mammoth 70 billion views.
His content is a mixture of high-stakes challenges, extravagant giveaways and large-scale philanthropy. Examples include planting 20 million trees, getting contestants to stay in a patch of grass for 100 days and, in one of his earliest videos, sitting at his desk and counting to 100,000 because, well, content.
Rollercoaster reality TV
It’s no surprise, then, that Amazon Prime has thrown their weight behind his latest endeavour, a reality TV show called Beast Games. A rollercoaster ride of a series - where 1,000 contestants compete for a hefty $5 million through several physical and mental challenges - it’s the kind of classless reality show that pushes the human spirit to its limit and reveals our ugliest and most selfish tendencies.
How many people do you know who would refuse £1 million?
Sadly, it came as no surprise to me that, after the show’s début, court documents were released alleging contestants were “shamelessly exploited”. If you thought the emotional trauma on The Traitors was bad, then Beast Games ramps it up to a whole new level. So why do I keep on watching? And why is this magazine bothering to review it?
Well, aside from the show’s addictive qualities, it’s quite simply the gospel in action. Because Beast Games contains prayer, worship, intercession and preaching. And that’s just episode four.
To be clear, this isn’t anything to do with the nature of the challenges - there’s no ‘Last Man Praying Wins a Million Dollars’ - nor does Mr Beast have a sudden faith conversion. No, it’s largely down to one man. Contestant #991. Jeremy.
Standing up for faith
Quickly capturing the attention of other competitors and, in turn, the producers, Jeremy’s evangelical faith formed a central narrative to much of the series. Despite looking like a member of a motorbike gang, the filmmaker and polar bear guard quickly became the unofficial Beast Games chaplain - much like The Traitor’s Rev Lisa or Richard Coles in I’m a Celeb.
Other contestants turned to him for advice and comfort. Every difficult decision he made was lifted in prayer, as he desperately sought guidance about which challenge to take part in or who to take with him to a luxury remote island (we’ve all been there). At one point he essentially starts preaching, telling a crowd of his competitors how much he, and God, loves them.
Seeing Jeremy’s boldness challenged me: we can’t always sit back and wait for the right moment to share our faith
In the most poignant moment of the series so far, Jeremy even turned down a gargantuan $1 million prize, allowing some of his fellow competitors to stay in the game. Despite Mr Beast’s incredulity at his decision, Jeremy made it clear that his “integrity is not for sale”. How often have you wished that those espousing faith in the public eye would stand by their convictions and principles? How many people do you know who would refuse $1 million?
Yet Jeremy quickly became a Marmite figure, with some contestants beginning to resent his outspoken nature and accusing him of being a cult leader, manipulating others and forcing religion down their throats. When Jeremy is seen preaching the love of Jesus, the camera cuts to visible derision and sighs.
A healthy challenge
While I’m sure some viewers may also watch with cynicism, I think many more - among them potentially millions of young people - will feel prompted to find out more about Jeremy’s faith. What made him fall to his knees in prayer? Why did he feel prompted to turn down such an enormous amount of money?
Maybe I’m overly optimistic, but I couldn’t help but feel pepped up by what I saw on screen. I’ve become so used to faith being sanitised for TV. Yet, here was someone unbothered by what people may think, living out the call to go into the world and “preach the gospel to all nations” (the show is available to stream in more than 80 countries).
Seeing Jeremy’s boldness challenged me. We can’t always sit back and wait for the right moment to share our faith. Instead, we should be pro-active about it, always willing to practice what we preach, and preach what we practice.
So, if you catch one of your children on the sofa with their iPad, streaming the latest episode of Beast Games, don’t be so quick to stop them. This show has its problems, but it also has a healthy dose of the gospel in action.
Beast Games is streaming now on Amazon Prime
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