No matter how stringent one's "regulations" — "Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch" (Col. 2:21) — the sinful nature that resides in everyone's heart is untamable by self-effort alone.
Paul's letter to the Colossians is remarkable for many reasons, but especially for how the apostle thoroughly dismantles the creeds of his opponents, a theme that is most pronounced in Chapter 2. Here, Paul exposes the philosophies of those who were causing such a stink in Colossae for what they are: laughable excuses for religion. This is the essence of his climactic question, where he incisively asks, "If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations according to human precepts and teachings?" (Col. 2:20–22). From the very beginning of the letter, he has been driving the reader to this decisive inquiry, adamant that nothing other than Christ could ever extend the freedom and fullness of life that Christ himself offers.
1. God's gospel vs. human precepts.
We might understand Paul's question like this: Why are you bothering with all these so-called regulations and human precepts? Don't you know you've already died to them? Why are you letting them pester you? At the heart of this epistle is the apostolic insistence that those who belong to Christ need not look for any other method or means of spiritual insight or understanding besides what is afforded to them in "the word of the truth, the gospel" (Col. 1:5). There are no alternative sources of the kind of life that Christ gives us; or, as the beloved C. S. Lewis once put it, "God cannot give us happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing" (50). There are no other avenues for godliness and faith apart from the gospel. But this begs the question: Why would you look for one anyway? Why would you want to look somewhere else for what is already yours in God's Word of Promise?
The apparent dilemma confronting the Colossians was the rise of a group of so-called "truth tellers" who were making a name for themselves by insisting that everyone follow the well-intentioned traditions of men, or what Paul refers to as "self-made religion" (Col. 2:23). Although these teachers were slightly different from those who badgered the Galatian congregations, they were just as damaging to the Body of Christ. While their elaborate system of rituals and traditions didn't necessarily bring one to salvation, it did (supposedly) offer one a better overall experience of the life of faith. All one had to do was follow what they said and did. This brings Paul to directly and pointedly address these new-fangled teachers, referring to their words as the "empty deceit" of a few self-important philosophers (Col. 2:8).
2. Empty deceit and captive souls.
With vapid and hollow doctrines emanating from the stuff of the world, these self-proclaimed gurus were putting themselves and the Colossians at odds with Christ. As spiritual as their creeds might have sounded, they were "not according to Christ" (Col. 2:8), which meant that instead of bringing the Colossian Christians closer to their Lord, they were accomplishing the opposite.
Insofar as they promulgated "self-made religion," they effectively indoctrinated the Colossians on the life of faith without Christ, which, as you might surmise, is a contradiction in terms. It is little wonder, then, that Paul refers to them as charlatans and predators who bandy about, taking would-be disciples "captive" with their "philosophy and empty deceit."
Pau directs his warning to the Colossians' hearts and souls, as he was determined to instill in them the certainty of what they were given in and through the gospel of Christ. This allows us to understand Paul's epistolary thesis, where he asserts, "As you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving" (Col. 2:6–7). The way one continues in the life of faith is the same way one's life of faith began — namely, through the preaching of the Christ of God.
The Colossians did not need some novel system of spirituality to find a deeper or truer religious experience, especially since no amount of "human tradition" or "self-made religion" could give them what the gospel gave them since the gospel gave them Christ. The only pathway to a full, free, faithful, and victorious Christian life was to be firmly fixed on Christ alone. Therefore, as Paul entreats them, what they needed was to "walk" in what they "received," just "as [they] were taught." Insofar as the announcement of the good news of Jesus Christ was recapitulated, the faith of the Colossians would concretize against the frenzy of philosophical bandwagoning.
3. The futility of self-made religion.
The so-called "wisdom" of the impostors at Colossae said that spiritual advancement and assurance were found elsewhere — specifically among the traditional tableau Paul enumerates (Col. 2:16–18). In so doing, these teachers had propped themselves up as litigators, judges, or referees of everyone else's spirituality, "passing judgment" on them and even going so far as to "disqualify" (katabrabeuō) them if they didn't adhere to certain rites or festivals. If you weren't following the "holy days" like they were doing, if you weren't disciplining your body as they were doing, or if you'd never had a vision as they had, could you really call yourself a Christian?
Even though their rhetoric sounded scriptural, what with all their talk about abstinence, self-control, and the historical conventions of the faith, it amounted to nothing more than the self-important drivel of a few "puffed up" philosophers (Col. 2:18). More to the point, although their assertions were articulated well enough, they never accomplished what they said they would. "They are of no value," Paul decrees, "in stopping the indulgence of the flesh" (Col. 2:23). "All the Judaistic vaporings that the Colossians ought to add something" to their faith, R. C. H. Lenski comments, "are efforts to cheat them with cunning, persuasive argument" (93).
No matter how stringent one's "regulations" — "Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch" (Col. 2:21) — the sinful nature that resides in everyone's heart is untamable by self-effort alone. Fussing about with asceticism does little else than shift the attention from Christ to one's own self-discipline. Thus, due to this "spiritual refereeing" movement, the Colossians were being turned in on themselves to find the freedom and fullness of the life of faith that was already theirs.
4. The gospel's gift of fullness.
The gospel is the gospel because it gives us Jesus. As such, there is no prospect of spiritual growth, advancement, or assurance apart from him. He is the fountain of the church's faith. Indeed, only as the Body of Christ recognizes that everything it needs for life, faith, and godliness is already ours in Christ is it "knitted together" and made to grow together "with a growth that is from God" (Col. 2:19; cf. 2 Pet. 1:3). To say otherwise is to bamboozle yourself and those around you with the insipid notion that something other than the person and work of Christ preached for you can offer you the fullness of life you long for. Paul puts the proponents of such fraudulent creeds in checkmate when he unfurls the very heart of the gospel, which is death and resurrection:
"In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead" (Col. 2:11–12).
The gospel is God's euangelion, not because it gives you some new ability to follow him or some special dose of wisdom to make more moral choices. Rather, it is good news because Christ's death and resurrection are given to you. "Christ's entombment and his resurrection," writes Lenski, "were actual and in their actuality atoning, substitutionary, vicarious, full of saving power" (107). This is that by which we are "filled," "buried," "raised," and "made alive" in and with him (Col. 2:9–13), which is just to say that all of the gospel's benefits are already ours, in the present. Contrary to the "empty words" of the fraudsters, the gospel actually fills those who receive it by faith.
Indeed, the very one who is the "fullness of God" in bodily form fills you up out of his own "fullness." He whom "God 'has filled full in connection with Christ,'" Lenski continues, "has in this connection with Christ all that he needs spiritually for the soul and for the body, for time and for eternity" (101–2). The Christ of God gives you all of himself when he dies for you. With him, you are buried; with him, you are raised; and with him, you are forgiven. This is what's been for us and in us through Christ's cross and empty tomb. "It is the apostle's special concern," R. C. Lucas attests, "to show the Colossians that in Christ they have already received all that they can receive from their share in his death and resurrection in this life" (104).
5. Rest in the house that Christ built.
This brings us back to Paul's decisive question: Why are you letting all this stuff get to you when you know what Christ has accomplished for you? "If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations . . . according to human precepts and teachings?"
I still have vivid memories of watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition as a family growing up. For whatever reason, it became a Sunday night ritual in our household, perhaps because it was so easy to become invested in the families upon whom ABC Television executives would dispense their charity. After finding the saddest family with the saddest story one could find, a crew of contractors, designers, and laborers would set about to build them their dream home in a week's time, no less. After taking care of every detail, the events of the show would culminate in that moment when affable host Ty Pennington, along with a chorus of onlookers, would shout, "Move that bus!" revealing a pristine new home situated behind it. Naturally, that's when the tears would flow.
The life of faith is all too frequently conceived as a construction project in which we are required to do all the framing, measuring, and building.
Imagine, though, after telling the bus to move, there was no newly refurbished home. No new carpet smell. No unsullied drywall. No finished basement with a La-Z-Boy conspicuously situated in front of a giant television screen. Instead, what the bus revealed was the same old home with stacks of lumber, siding, bricks, and mortar neatly arrayed on the front lawn. What if instead of being given keys to a new home, you were given a hammer and nails and told to start building? As "nice" as this might be, it wouldn't be much of a gift.
In a way, this is what was happening to the Colossians, and in many other ways, it is a sentiment that persists today. The life of faith is all too frequently conceived as a construction project in which we are required to do all the framing, measuring, and building. This perspective is attractive since it means we have the chance to tell others why they aren't doing it right and why our methods are more efficient. God's good news, however, isn't that his Son has left us with a pile of tools and building materials so that we can do it all ourselves. Rather, the gospel of Christ is the one that gives us the keys to an entirely new way of life. "His death becomes our death," Gerhard O. Forde once said. "He dies for us. He dies to get us. This is God's cure worked by Jesus. The cure is death and new life" (74). The bus moves and the mansion has already been built. All that's left to do is walk inside, get used to your new home, and rest because it's finished.
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