It has been a few years since I have had a substantial number of people reach out to ask my view on a particular author. Do you know anything about him? Have you read him? Would you consider reviewing some of his books? But after this break of a few years, it has recently begun anew with John Mark Comer. I, too, have heard his name and seen his books on the lists of bestsellers. Yet I had not read anything by him. Eventually, based on all the inquiries, I decided to buy and read his most recent title, Practicing the Way, which seems to be a kind of culmination of his earlier works.
There is often a certain degree of sameness to Christian publishing and, sure enough, I was only a few pages in before I thought, “Oh, we’ve been here before!” About twenty years ago many popular authors were discovering or rediscovering the traditions of the mystics and monastics. As they did so, they curtailed or dismissed certain aspects of traditional Protestantism in favor of elements drawn largely from Roman Catholicism. And in many ways, this is what Comer has done for a whole new generation of readers.
Practicing the Way has an understandable appeal. Comer focuses a lot of attention on some of the obvious and frustrating shortcomings of contemporary Evangelicalism. He addresses the common longing for a faith that is more substantial than what so many churches teach and more grounded in ancient practices. If you are living as a Christian and sometimes feel that there must be more to the faith than this, he wants to affirm that there is. I understand the appeal of an author who addresses the longing for more and who provides a neatly produced program you can follow—especially one that purports to meet the challenges of the modern world while drawing on the deep history of Christian practice. But, of course, much depends on the nature of that program.
Comer is a self-professed mystic and agrees with Karl Rahner who says, “The Christian of the future will be a mystic or he will not exist at all.” He does not quite define the term other than saying it indicates “a disciple of Jesus who wants to experience spiritually what is true of them theologically,” but it generally indicates an expectation of receiving original and unmediated revelation from God. It is associated with practices like lectio divina, contemplative prayer, and with meditation, stillness, and silence—practices Comer endorses and regards as essential. He draws upon a broad group of thinkers and practitioners who come from Catholic, Greek Orthodox, and Quaker backgrounds and who are united primarily by their mysticism. This includes the ones well-read readers will probably expect: Dallas Willard, Richard Foster, Henry Nouwen, Brother Lawrence, and so on. Comer does add some other elements to his beliefs—a dose of charismatic theology (e.g. words of prophecy; deliverance from demons; speaking in tongues) and, what he is becoming known for—a Rule of Life. He also tells about the importance of at least one Jesuit spiritual director who has shaped and formed him. (And on that note it is probably worth remembering that the Jesuit order was founded specifically to counter the teachings of the Reformation and, therefore, to combat the Protestant faith—a purpose it has never revoked.)
Comer writes often about the gospel and expresses the importance of telling others about it. He is somewhat vague about the content of his gospel, though he makes it clear that it is not the gospel of Evangelical churches—a gospel of penal substitutionary atonement. He especially abominates the gospel of street preachers and its message of “repent of your sin so you won’t go to hell.” Rather, his gospel is something like “live like Jesus and live for Jesus so other people can become interested in Jesus.” In fact, the major divisions of his book, and hence the major themes of the Christian life, are: be with Jesus, become like him, and do as he did. While he includes a section about suffering for the gospel, I cannot see anything in his gospel that is offensive enough to earn the disapproval and hence persecution of others.
He begins the book with a lengthy section on what it meant to be one of the original disciples of Jesus, though he prefers the term “apprentice.” Here he draws heavily on early Rob Bell and Sitting at the Feet of Rabbi Jesus to teach what it meant for Jesus to be a rabbi and for his disciples to follow him in “the Way.” (He much prefers speaking of “the Way” than “the Christian faith” or “Christianity.”)
To be with Jesus is to essentially embrace the practices of mysticism, to turn abiding with God into a life-long and life-consuming practice—what some might call practicing the presence of God. It is to engage in lectio divina and contemplative prayer. It is to pray without words and to focus on mindfulness. It is to “practice the way” and, in the words of one of his previous books, “to ruthlessly eliminate hurry.”
To become like Jesus is to pursue spiritual formation. This is to rest in Christ in such a way that he transforms us from the inside out so that we become people of love. “This, then, is spiritual formation: the process of being formed into a person of self-giving love through deepening surrender to and union with the Trinity.”
To do as Jesus did is to live a life that imitates Jesus. It does not so much involve asking “What would Jesus do?” as “What would Jesus do if he was living my life?” This involves three rhythms: making space for the gospel, preaching the gospel, and demonstrating the gospel. “The gospel,” he says, “is that Jesus is the ultimate power in the universe and that life with him is now available to all. Through his birth, life, teachings, miracles, death, resurrection, ascension, and gift of the Spirit, Jesus has saved, is saving, and will save all creation. And through apprenticeship to Jesus, we can enter into this kingdom and into the inner life of God himself. We can receive and give and share in Love Loving. We can be a part of a community that Jesus is, ever so slowly, forming into a radiant new society of peace and justice that one day will co-govern all creation with the Creator, in an eternity of ever-unfolding creativity and growth and joy. And anyone can be a part of this story.” To demonstrate this gospel is to live it out through healing, deliverance from demonic forces, prophecy, and justice.
How do we ensure that we are doing this? Through a Rule of Life, a term that is gaining a fair bit of traction today. The book culminates in a substantial section that teaches how to understand and implement it. Rule of Life is a Benedictine practice that, taken in isolation, is simple enough and perhaps even useful. It is less a rule and more a set of disciplines—disciplines customized to the individual or community that provide guidance and restraint so Christians can live meaningful and satisfying lives. It may include devotional habits, limitations on the use of devices, and the practice of a sabbath. Comer’s version of it is notable for what it includes and excludes. It includes mystical and charismatic practices, for example, and excludes the evangelistic proclamation of the gospel and explicit direction about feeding the mind or growing in understanding of Christian doctrine.
It also seems to exclude what we might understand as a traditional local church. Comer is clear that Christianity is meant to be pursued in community and in a type of community different from Evangelical or Reformed churches, but offers little guidance on what this might look like. I suspect, though, that it is similar to the communities so many people tried to build in the era of what became known as the Emerging Church—a movement that drew upon many of the same thinkers and treasured many of the same values. While he often mentions the church he has founded so that he and others can practice the Way, he provides few details about it.
If you, like me, were reading Christian books 20 or 25 years ago, much of this will sound familiar, and rightly so. I would not necessarily say that Comer is creating Emergent 2.0, but I do see that he is advocating something that expresses similar concerns and rejects similar components of Evangelicalism, and something that shares similar influences and is built on a similar foundation. It would seem likely to me, then, that it will eventually trend in a similar direction and suffer a similar fate—becoming first sub-biblical, then unbiblical, and then altogether unrecognizable as a faithful expression of the Christian faith. I hope that I am wrong but, frankly, wouldn’t be surprised if that proves true. Feel free to circle back in 10 or 15 years and call me out as necessary.
That’s not to say that Comer doesn’t offer any legitimate critiques or valuable insights or that he fails to teach any useful practices. There is much in his book that is true and useful. Yet there is much that is false and unhelpful and therefore much to be concerned about. I am especially concerned that people who feel that longing for more—that sense that there must be more to the Christian life than this—will allow their disquiet to draw them into his teachings, into his practices, and ultimately, perhaps, right out of recognizable Christianity. What he offers is not merely a different perspective on the Christian life or an alternate set of practices, but a different gospel and ultimately a different faith.
I would suggest great caution with Comer’s teaching and urge you to count the cost of embracing it.
Thus, I would suggest great caution with Comer’s teaching and urge you to count the cost of embracing it. As I understand it, if you follow his counsel and adopt his teaching, your life will need to change, your understanding of theology will (probably) need to change, your practice of devotion will need to change, your church will need to change, and your gospel will need to change. It is not overstating the matter that almost the whole of your life will need to become different. You will need to reject much of what you believe and practice in order to embrace new beliefs, new priorities, new convictions, and new practices. The cost, I’d say, is high. Too high.
