We love hearing about Jesus, but we also love hearing about how much effort we need to exert to truly pull off this whole “Christian life” thing.
We are living in an ironic age — and no, I don’t mean “ironic” in the Alanis Morissette sense, but in the truest sense of incongruity. While data might reveal a generational tendency of religious egress, we are, in fact, more religious than ever. This, of course, is the fundamental premise behind Dave Zahl’s book Seculosity: How Career, Parenting, Technology, Food, Politics, and Romance Became Our New Religion and What to Do About It, which is easily the most trenchant book I have read in the last decade. Just because individuals are leaving “church” doesn’t necessarily correspond to a wholesale departure from “religion,” per se. Rather, what seems to hold true is that those who abandon traditional and “organized religion” look elsewhere to get their religious kicks. Whether it’s the religion of partisanism, mysticism, activism, hedonism, or any other “-ism” you can think of, the point is that men and women who resist attending church once a week are still very enthusiastically pursuing religions of their own making. “The religious impulse is easier to rebrand than to extinguish,” Dave Zahl says in his introduction, “the marketplace in replacement religion is booming” (xii).
What makes these “secular religions” or, to imbibe Dave Zahl’s terminology, “seculosities” so appealing is that they claim to offer all these things without the authoritative baggage of “going to church.” They are running after meaning, hope, purpose, and that sense of belonging and transcendence that was baked into life by our Creator through avenues and inroads they contrive and control. In other words, they are chasing what the church offers (or is supposed to offer through the announcement of God’s words of the law and the gospel) outside of the walls of the church. The problem is that these “self-made religions,” to use the apostle Paul’s rhetoric (Col. 2:23), don’t and can’t live up to what they claim they can offer. The more they are tried and the longer they are tested, the more they are exposed as nothing more than hollow shells of the real thing. While these other “religions” might be freighted with the language, vocabulary, and appearance of “true religion,” they aren’t accompanied by any of its substance. This, of course, is because any religious system that humanity manufactures is merely a “watered-down” version of what is offered through the Word and Spirit of God.
This process of “watering down religion” often operates under the handle “syncretism,” which evokes mankind’s attempt to amalgamate different and sometimes even divergent religious beliefs or traditions into a new “system of faith.” Perhaps it’s a dash of Judeo-Christian ethics mixed with a dollop of Greek philosophy and a zest of Eastern mysticism, or maybe it’s Christianity with a spoonful of self-help and “pop psychology,” or maybe it’s Jesus of Nazareth with the Stars and Stripes draped over his shoulders. Whatever the case may be, this is the religion of the hour, one that is devised and designed by us. If that sounds problematic, that’s because it is, and yet, that hasn’t stopped syncretism from tightening its grip on us. In many ways, though, this is what makes Paul’s letter to the Colossians so penetratingly fitting since the apostle seems to grapple with “religious syncretism” head-on throughout the epistle.
The congregation in Colossae was becoming strained under the influx of those who were “promoting self-made religion and asceticism” as vehicles for receiving grace and realizing one’s purpose (Col. 2:23). As these syncretistic systems of faith vied for their attention and devotion (Col. 2:18, 21), this well-established church found itself face-to-face with a glut of philosophies that had the “appearance of wisdom” but only “according to human tradition” (Col. 2:8, 23). Consequently, Paul’s letter to the Colossians was, in many regards, a response to these problematic religious notions, many of which had begun to yield feelings of doubt in the Colossians themselves, causing them to question their faith. The apostle, therefore, writes with a singular motivation and focus — namely, Christ alone. “For I want you to know,” Paul says, “how great a struggle I have for you and for those at Laodicea and for all who have not seen me face to face, that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Col. 2:1–3).
Colossians has often been labeled the most Christ-centered book in the canon, and for a good reason, since Paul’s objective remains to this church, which he had never visited, the all-surpassing worth of the Christ of God. As Paul proceeds to explain, the best countermeasure to the syncretistic impulses of the day remains hearing again what we’ve “heard before” in “the word of the truth, the gospel.” (Col. 1:5) The word which infallibly focuses on and offers us Christ himself. The gospel, of course, is not a complex of principles or rules. Neither is it a code of conduct or some set of ideals after which we are bound to pursue. The gospel is not a philosophy or an ideology, nor even is it a system of religion. The gospel is, quite plainly, a proclamation, that is, it is something you announce. Its literal meaning is “good news.” To preach the gospel, therefore, suggests the announcement of something that has occurred. Likewise, to hear the gospel means to be told a report about what has happened — namely, what has happened on your behalf in and through the work of Christ alone (Col. 1:13–14). It is Christ’s work, not man’s, that serves as the crux of what’s proclaimed. He alone is the one who comes down into this realm of sin, sedition, and strife to save sinners from eternal ruin. He is the one who comes to free the world from the grip of death and hell by offering his righteousness as a gift.
Christ’s faithfulness to accomplish redemption for us is the primary and prevailing concern of gospel proclamation. He’s the point. He’s its sum and substance. The gospel is the gospel because it gives us Christ. This, of course, was Paul’s modus operandi. His stubborn “Christ crucified” hermeneutic earned him no small amount of ridicule and scorn throughout his ministry, as countless religious elitists disparaged him for preaching a message that seemed to be lacking. He spoke of grace freely given to sinners and declared divine righteousness as a gift given to all by faith in Christ, no matter what, with no amount of stipulations or fine print to be found. The Pauline gospel is clear that God in Christ is the one who qualifies sinners to have a share in the heavenly kingdom (Col. 1:12). It is only “by grace through faith” that all of Christ’s gifts and accomplishments become ours (Eph. 2:8). “We are united to Him,” Alexander Maclaren attests in his Expositions, “and become recipient[s] of the gifts that He has to bestow, by no sacraments, by no externals, by no reverential admiration of His supreme wisdom and perfect beauty of character, not by assuming the attitude of the disciple, but by flinging our whole selves upon Him, because He is our Saviour” (14:2.87). “This is not from yourselves,” Paul continues elsewhere, “it is God’s gift — not from works so that no one can boast” (Eph. 2:9). This and this alone constitutes “good news.”
The only message that has the power to change anything is the one that leaves all the work where it belongs — in the nail-scarred hands of the one “in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”
Before the apostle gets into the meat of what he wants to say, he tells the Colossians about how the world is changing. There is fruit being borne and lives being changed “in the whole world” (Col. 1:5–6), all of which, of course, was the result of preaching the gospel of Christ crucified and risen again for sinners, that is, hearing again what’s been heard before. This is what we might identify as Paul’s “theory of change.” It was God’s Word and Spirit that did the work to transform lives and thereby change the world (1 Thess. 2:13). The point is, though, that the gospel is misheard and misconstrued whenever the focus rests on its “byproducts.” In other words, like the Colossians, we are often enamored by our own involvement. We love hearing about Jesus, but we also love hearing about how much effort we need to exert to truly pull off this whole “Christian life” thing. We love hearing about what we can or need to do. We fawn over the latest “tips and techniques” that claim to help us become better disciples and increase our “fruit-bearing” quotient. But while all of this is important, biblical even, this is not the gospel.
Indeed, the gospel is not about how much fruit you are bearing, nor is it about how much you are changing. The gospel is about Christ and what he has done to bring about your reconciliation and change you from the inside out. “The gospel, which has come to you,” as Paul puts it, is the dynamic word of God that justifies sinners and transforms them into saints. No matter how many schemes we try or techniques we employ, we are powerless to bring about on our own. That doesn’t stop us from trying, though. Too often and too quickly, we get tired of hearing about the good news of Jesus Christ and instead opt for messages that promise to change us. “Here are six ways to change your marriage.” “Here are five tips to be better at praying.” “Here are the seven keys for living generously.” “Here are ten reasons to love your neighbor.” Each of these propositions promises to change and/or complete your faith by giving you a bit of extra insight. But all this ends up doing is giving folks the false hope that “change” is up to them. This is a fool’s errand. Fruit-bearing doesn’t increase when we become hyper-focused on the fruit. Rather, it occurs as the roots are thoroughly nourished and fertilized. Accordingly, no amount of religious fervor can give us what the gospel offers us in Christ.
The church of Christ is nourished and enriched only by preaching Christ. Preaching “change” to people through syncretistic systems of spirituality doesn’t bring about change. “They are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh,” Paul says (Col. 2:23). Christ and Christ alone is the agent of change in you and in the world, which is what occurs as “the word of the truth, the gospel” is dispensed through Christ’s Word and Spirit. The problem, more often than not, is that we get impatient, so much so that we don’t let grace do its work. “The failure of Christianity to bring forth full fruit,” Alexander Maclaren writes in his commentary on Colossians, “arises solely from the failure of professing Christians to allow its quickening powers to fill their hearts” (33). Much of the syncretism that creeps into the Christian faith is a result of our impatience with the way God’s grace works in us and in others. After all, preaching the gospel of Christ crucified and risen again isn’t a quick fix or a “silver bullet” for all of the world’s ills, ailments, and injustices. We tend to get dissatisfied when we fail to see “change” happen right away, leading us to opt for novelties and gimmicks rather than looking to what is freely offered in Christ.
There is nothing we need to hear that isn’t included in the word of God’s gospel. Only as you hear again what “you have heard before in the word of truth” are you given the full assurance of faith. “Brought to faith by the gospel,” R. C. H. Lenski comments, “by faith we ever hold fast to Christ, the contents of our confidence and trust” (17). Change in our own lives, let alone in the world, doesn’t coincide with wagging fingers or the distribution of lengthy to-do lists. The only message that has the power to change anything is the one that leaves all the work where it belongs — in the nail-scarred hands of the one “in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins” (Col. 1:14). No other religion, theory, or philosophy can bear the weight of saving the world, let alone changing it. Only Christ can because only Christ has, and that’s the best news I’ve ever heard.
