They’re among Australia’s most successful exports to the United States – but you probably aren’t familiar with their work.

Australian Pentecostal groups such as Hillsong (currently on a major stadium tour of the US), C3 (a “hipster church” with 520 branches in 62 countries said to be attracting western millennials to religion) and A21 (a charity movement dedicated to “rescuing” women from the “modern slavery” of prostitution) have won over the home of evangelicalism, and they’re only just getting started.

Pentecostalism is the fastest growing religious denomination in the world, with an estimated 500 million adherents – and as prime minister Scott Morrison showed last month, Australians are not immune to its charms. While the Pentecostal movement’s popularity is unquestionable, its theology and practices are less so.

Today’s Pentecostals aren’t tongues-talking, snake-handling hicks in rural American outposts. They’re Justin Bieber and various Kardashians singing uplifting songs at megachurches in cosmopolitan cities such as Los Angeles, Seoul, Lagos, São Paulo and Sydney. Fire and brimstone sermons have given way to Spotify playlists, self-help courses, stadium spectaculars, and Instagram posts which are, above all, designed to serve as an inspirational reflection of yourself.

Best categorised as a branch of evangelical Christianity, Pentecostalism emphasises the work of the holy spirit and the believer’s direct experience with God through messages and miracles. The movement began at a 1906 revival meeting in California and it is thought to have been a “spiritual compensation” for its impoverished early converts.

The modern incarnation of the Pentecostal movement, which is often referred to as “neo-charismatic”, grew out of disaffected new-agers in 1960s California. As the country’s hardline Christians started coming back into mainstream society and politics, a number of spiritual journeymen combined key cultural forces of the time –the hippie movement, neoliberalism and a distaste for conventional authority – into a series of ministries, books and conferences.

Though they draw on similar philosophies and techniques, the new wave differentiates itself from the glitzy megachurches of the 80s and 90s by combining personal access to the miraculous with social justice. They’ve also upended the financial models of the megachurches, deriving the majority of their income from sales of their products rather than the church plate. And we’re not taking small amounts – Hillsong is believed to rake in more than $100m annually.

“It is based on consumption, where the lines between so-called secular society and religious groups is increasingly blurred,” says Richard Flory, senior director of research and evaluation at the University of Southern California’s Centre for Religion and Civic Culture. “They’re saying: ‘I look just like everybody else, so you should come hang out with me because I have an inspirational message.’”

Flory says that Hillsong, C3 and A21 are at the forefront of a global movement that is looking not to save souls, but to transform societies. The activities of A21, which is strongly supported by US vice president Mike Pence’s family, are about repackaging evangelical sexual ethics into the language of contemporary social justice.

Led by independent religious entrepreneurs, often referred to as apostles, “this is the next generation of megachurches, only with less content, more show”, Flory says. The decentralised nature and focus on an inspirational leader means that almost anyone can start one, and for very little cost.

Whether you’re after salvation or just wanting to have a positive experience, this brand of religion still serves as wrapping for a set of values that wouldn’t look out of step in any traditional American evangelical church. Not that it’s easy to tell – their beliefs are usually shrouded in opaque language that is closer to self-help book The Secret than 1 Samuel. (“A21 is abolishing slavery everywhere, forever. How? through awareness, intervention, and aftercare. Our legacy is freedom.”)

Go to their websites and you’ll find garden-variety Christian sentiments about Jesus and love. But read between the lines on Hillsong’s press release about voting in Australia’s same-sex plebiscite and you’ll find sentiments in lock step with much of traditional religious conservatism.

Neo-charismatic Pentecostalism is the perfect creation for – or the culmination of – an age defined by digitisation and globalisation. Adherents are signing up to a lifestyle brand that is designed to appeal to a new generation of consumers who know what we want: experiences, flexibility and the ability to connect with people just like us.

In repackaging old ideas into the ways we interact in today’s world, this updated version of evangelical Christianity has been able to tap into changing social norms.

Because we have come to conflate valuing something with paying for it, the new Pentecostal movement has turned everything we associate with religious worship, such as devotional music, pastoral care and confession of our sins, into commodities for sale.

Startup culture has come to religion. The gospel of growth, market share and monetisation has found a solution for a problem that didn’t exist.

• Elle Hardy is an Australian-born writer living in the United States