I love god, the getup whispered. Also, I fuck. And cool, I get it, that’s great: “pastors don’t have to wear khakis” is an important lesson for us all. But at the time, the concept—that a man of god with less-than-evolved views on social issues could also have highly evolved opinions on fashion, celebrity, and the spiritual needs of city-dwelling hipsters—was earth-shattering. Now, it’s kind of commonplace. And Carl doesn’t dress like a human Chelsea boot anymore. No, now, Carl Lentz, styled-up pastor to the stars, wears pieces from the highly coveted Louis Vuitton-Supreme collaboration. He wears what appear to be Kanye affiliate Don C’s customized basketball shorts. He wears those skinny sweatpants with drawstrings so long that I’m not sure how one would avoid peeing on them.

Lentz is not alone. His brothers of the very fancy cloth have also switched up their styles. Zoe Church’s Chad Veach is partial to Fear of God ballcaps, and skater-approved Vans and long socks. (He also wears Bieber’s Purpose Tour merch.) The City Church’s Judah Smith tucks his printed shirts in like a cool, good boy. Vous Church’s Rich Wilkerson, Jr. likes Gucci more than the rest. They all love wire-framed aviators converted into regular glasses (or maybe they’re lensless). This guy, who is either Lentz or Veach, is wearing some fancy basketball shorts while deep in conversation in a back alley with Justin Bieber, who is wearing the same outfit. Mostly, these pastors are all dressing like Bieber, their their spiritual charge: in a blend of graphic-heavy streetwear, or maybe merch, and ultra-high-end designer pieces. Mesh shorts, unless it’s hole-ridden skinny denim. Old Skools, or perhaps that pair of Chelsea boots you just couldn’t bear to toss. Those aviators, calling to mind nothing so much as early-aughts American Apparel advertisements.

It appears as if the hipster pastor has evolved. It’s no longer enough to no-comment gay marriage while wearing a biker jacket. Instead, you need to do it while wearing skater socks. Aggressive glasses. Very long drawstrings. Bieber merch. The hipster pastor is dead, and into the void strides someone new. He’s a man god-fearing and Fear of God-wearing in equal measure. Call him The Hypepriest.

The Hypepriest evolution is not surprising. Lentz and his pals dressed the way cool kids dressed back in 2015; they’re simply dressing the way cool kids dress now. And that shift is broadly reflective of the way the fashion world has changed: ultralong tees, skinny jeans, and pointy boots have given way to bright colors, logos, looser silhouettes, and a certain skate-friendly scruffiness. Streetwear is ascendant, so the cool priests wear streetwear. This is an occupational hazard of being a cool priest, I think: If you run a cool church in 2017, it follows that you want—need—to look cool in a 2017 way. If Carl Lentz were still wearing leather, would Hillsong still be cool?

But being a Hypepriest is about more than just looking cool. It is also about marketing. The fact that these guys minister to celebrities—themselves under an increasingly sharp fashion microscope, thanks to paparazzi photographers, gossip outlets, and a host of Instagram-based outfit trackers—means they’re intimately acquainted with what’s trending in 2017. And if what’s trending is the freedom to wear your own logo across your chest (and down your sleeves, and across the hem of your shorts, and up the sides of your socks), it also follows that the Hypepriest marks an evolutionary high point in branding.

Here’s Chad Veach, the pastor at Zoe Church, out on the town with Bieber wearing, per Bieber’s caption, official Zoe merchandise. You literally could not pay a marketing firm enough to deliver this sort of publicity coup. Now, the million and a half fans who liked Bieber’s photo, and the millions more who swiped past it, perhaps vaguely registering the content, know what Zoe Church is. Or if they don’t know that exactly, they know that this guy with the notable glasses and the cool t-shirt and the really cool twentysomething pop star friend is interesting. Or at least just friends with Justin Bieber. And maybe that’s enough: those millions of mostly-teenage fans are already members in the church of Justin Bieber. Why not join another?