(REVIEW) In the third season of “The Righteous Gemstones,” the fictional Gemstone family members — wealthy leaders of a prominent megachurch — are as outlandish and chaotic as ever. They hardly go a moment without a new situation that poses a threat to their livelihoods — declining church attendance, the loss of a significant donor, a competing megachurch, only daughter Judy’s affair with a member of her band, the repercussions of church teachings during Y2K and a family-run militia that blames the Gemstones for all the problems in the world.

In this season, now streaming in its entirety on Max, these threats include all of the above and more. Most of them are the consequences of the Gemstones’ actions, even if they tend to spin out of control. Most of them are also ultimately in service of getting the Gemstones to grow closer as a family and to become better church leaders.

In previous seasons, the Gemstones learn similar lessons as a result of similar high-stakes threats. In those seasons, the underlying morality was novel. Any criticism of Christianity was only about the parts of the religion as it’s practiced in modern America that are sillier — or the parts that actually deserve criticism. That, coupled with a genuine appreciation of the Christian faith and Christians with good hearts, made the show an extreme rarity as far as Christian entertainment goes. 

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But this season, the challenges begin to feel trite, and the redemption feels less genuine. There’s much less of a lesson and much more standard sitcom material, meaning it’s in a bit of a slump storywise — or proving I was just taking it too seriously from the start.

A significant amount of fun violence — including regular memorable car chases — is an expectation for each season this far in. It really is fun, creative and well choreographed, but its repeated importance makes it increasingly difficult to believe that “The Righteous Gemstones” is rooted in any kind of reality. 

Imagine, for example, reading in the news that Joel Osteen had been kidnapped, held for ransom at gunpoint, robbed and otherwise regularly attacked over the past four years. This is a pastor who’s infamous for his wealth and broadly disliked, and yet the newsmaking he does rarely goes beyond a controversial statement online. 

It’s particularly difficult because every season ends on a happy note: unity, forgiveness, redemption. It doesn’t end with these things in a meaningless or shallow way — in fact it’s the opposite. It just downplays the sincerity of that redemption a great deal when the same sequence of events plays out all over again every season.

This season, the main threat comes from a doomsday prepper militia run by Peter Montgomery — patriarch Eli’s brother-in-law — and his sons. Peter blames the Gemstones for everything that’s wrong with the world currently and enacts a personal vendetta against them. 

A large part of that is personal: Before Y2K, Eli warned his followers about the end of the world and sold buckets of supplies to prepare for a world shutdown. When the end of the world didn’t come to pass, Peter was enraged and embarrassed because he’d spent all his family’s savings on these supplies. 

He’s not the only one. For months after the not-quite-end-of-the-world, protestors gather outside of the church to accuse Eli of stealing their money, leading them astray and fearmongering to manipulate and control them. It’s a valid criticism, and one that remains a concern in the real world today. This issue goes without real resolution; after an impassioned speech from Eli, the protestors ultimately disperse. It’s Peter who hangs onto his bitterness and who uses it to take drastic action. 

That militia is another disappointing loose end. As a whole, it’s portrayed as less evil to Peter’s violent grudge: in some ways, even, the worship service it holds on its compound is depicted as a kind of simple, genuine faith. Its end, however, after members tire of Peter’s tireless quest for revenge, is proclaiming that they’re out to wreak havoc in other parts of the country. It of course isn’t any kind of condoning of their actions, but it’s strange and distasteful that they get to run free with no remorse or change in a show that’s all about redemption. 

In that way, it only drives home how second-rate the Gemstones’ redemption is. They don’t show many signs of changing, either. They’re manipulative with their money both in personal relationships and within the church even after the mistakes of the past. 

The only bright spot in this otherwise confusing and disappointing storyline of brutality is that the primary vehicle of destruction is The Redeemer, a monster truck that’s belonged to eldest son Jesse since he was a boy. The monster truck stunts are really cool. 

There are plenty of other bright spots in this season. The game show “Baby Billy’s Bible Bonkers” — a “Family Feud”-style Bible trivia game — is introduced and ultimately serves as a setting for the climactic scene of the season. The hinted-at romance between youth pastor Kelvin and his best friend, Satanist-convert Keefe, finally comes to fruition, to the pleasant acceptance of the rest of the family (and they end up with a pair of hand-carved, customized wooden rocking chairs). 

Ultimately, the Gemstones do pull through for each other, and it is sweet: in a chaotic mess involving a literal plague of locusts, they protect each other in a way no one else does — like they always do, even though they don’t do as well putting on a wholesome facade or getting along in their day-to-day lives.

And ultimately, “The Righteous Gemstones” remains a funny and well-crafted comedy with characters unlike any other on TV at the moment.

It’s also worth pointing out that this show isn’t meant to be a theologically sound piece of entertainment. It isn’t claiming to preach or to serve as some kind of devotional for evangelical Christians. It isn’t even hoping to provide a solution for the issue of wealth disparity in megachurches. It’s first and foremost meant to be a comedy set in megachurch culture, and at that, it’s still successful. 

I like “The Righteous Gemstones,” and I like the perspective it’s provided in the past about Christianity. It’s nuanced and insightful — and funny to boot. I hope it has more of that to offer in the future, and that the more serious parts of the story don’t continue to fall flat. In the meantime, though, at least I’m still having fun. 

Jillian Cheney is Religion Unplugged’s Senior Culture Correspondent. She writes about film, TV, music, art, books and more. Find her on Twitter @_jilliancheney.