Recently I’ve noticed a lot of discussion surrounding John Mark Comer’s latest book Practicing the Way, and more generally around discipleship and formation. Many of us are asking questions about what it really means to follow Jesus, or to be his disciple, or to ‘apprentice’ with him. What does it actually look like for you and me, today, to live the Christian life?
They are, of course, really good questions. And I think they are indicative of Comer’s own burden, which he presents in his book. We might call his concern ‘lacklustre discipleship’, and Comer is greatly concerned by its prevalence. Most of us can probably relate to this—we’ve likely experienced it on a personal level, as well as seen it in others! Essentially, it’s the human tendency to view Christianity as more of a cheat code for salvation, rather than as a completely new life, radically different from what used to be. And surely this should alarm us.
So Comer goes on to offer a solution—a vision to see professing Christians practising Christianity. He wants to see followers of Jesus being formed in spiritually healthy ways. As he does this, he’s making a distinction between two groups of people. I must admit that I did start to find myself rather confused at this point! Comer suggests distinguishing between ‘Christians’ and ‘practising Christians’, but sometimes this distinction seems to be between cultural and confessional Christianity, and at other times seems to be between a set of beliefs and a set of practices (p 15). I found myself not entirely clear on what, in Comer’s thinking, defines a Christian. My best interpretation is that, as Comer calls on Christians to live a particular way, he is making a distinction not so much between those who are headed for death and those who are headed for life, but between those who have life and those who have a kind of ‘uberlife’.
Comer also employs the term ‘salvation’ in quite a specific way. He often refers to it not in the context of rescue from death and judgement, but in the context of the quality of the lives we live (p 89). Additionally, Comer’s salvation is in large part located in the future, rather than being grounded in past events (p 114). Although at times he refers to union with Christ, this is mostly framed as a potential reality to which followers of Jesus can aspire (pp 79–80). So what Comer is actually presenting us with is a kind of salvation through formation—a ‘Rule of Life’ that shapes and forms us as followers of Jesus, allowing us eventually to enter into life with God (p 181). Comer even goes so far as to say that these rules and laws are non-negotiable for Christians (p 180). People, he claims, can be with Jesus and abide in him by adopting a set of practices (p 181). The prospect of being like Jesus is a real one, and Jesus believes in you (p 30).
So it’s a very real problem that’s identified by Comer, but his solution is sorely misdirected. In speaking about transformation and change, Comer appears reluctant to identify the problem of sin that leads to death and judgement, and so the joy of repentance is never on view. Turning from sin and towards Christ is neither presented as the way into the Christian life, nor as the way of the Christian life. Sadly, Comer’s understanding of following Jesus is more about imitation and aspiration than it is about having been placed in Christ himself. When Comer speaks of salvation, he speaks of self-improvement powered by the flesh, rather than faith and repentance powered by the life-giving Spirit of God. He relies on the practices of internal spiritual formation to bring about his version of salvation, rather than on the full and eternal justification by faith that Jesus offers in his death.
And there’s the problem: fleshly people are unable simply to copy Jesus’ way of life, because the flesh is sold under sin (Rom 7:14). If the flesh is the problem, it can’t also be the solution! What we need is not only to be like Jesus. What we need is Jesus himself. To see him in all his goodness, to see our sin in all its blackness, and to have our hearts turned away from ourselves and towards him.
The church in Colossae were tempted by the promise of a better, fuller, deeper, Christian experience than what they had already received by faith in Christ. Even religious habits and traditions can be dangerous:
Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food or drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath. These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ. (Col 2:16–17)
Patterns and practices can help us look forward to the new creation, and to live out the realities of that new life here and now. The disciplines that Comer suggests have, on the whole, much practical wisdom to offer—resting one day a week, enjoying fellowship with others, offering service and hospitality—to name just a few. But as we engage with them, we do so in the sure and certain knowledge that we already have everything in Christ.
What does it look like to lead the Christian life? Comer is correct that it is more than mere assent to propositions. But nor is it about levelling ourselves up in following Jesus. It’s always about knowing God himself. It’s about turning to Jesus and trusting him, in whom we find the fullness of God.
The gospel is not simply a call to try to model our lives in Jesus, who offers us a more appealing way to live. No, the gospel is about abiding with God through his Son, and finding life in him. Jesus doesn’t just show us the way, he is the Way. And so we live in him, we listen to him, and we love him.