The Way Is Love

There is a tension in my understanding of Jesus that I have wrestled with for a long time.

I believe Jesus is the Way.

But I struggle with the idea that following Jesus means believing that everyone who doesn’t identify with Christianity is somehow separated from God.

Because if I look at the teachings of Jesus, something doesn’t quite fit.

Jesus’ second greatest commandment wasn’t, “Make sure your neighbor believes what you believe.”

It was:

Love your neighbor as yourself.

And then Jesus took it even further.

Love your enemies.

Pray for those who persecute you.

Forgive.

Do not judge.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

So I find myself asking a difficult question:

If Jesus is the Way, what exactly is the Way?

Perhaps the answer isn’t a religion.

Perhaps the answer is Jesus himself as the example of what union with God looks like in a human life.

Jesus didn’t simply tell people what God was like.

He demonstrated it.

He demonstrated what surrender looks like.

What compassion looks like.

What forgiveness looks like.

What courage looks like.

What love looks like.

What happens when a human being becomes so aligned with God that his life begins to reflect the character of God.

When Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life,” perhaps we have been too quick to turn those words into a theological boundary.

Perhaps Jesus wasn’t saying, “My religion is the only doorway to God.”

Perhaps he was saying:

This is the way. Watch me. Follow me. Become like this.

And that distinction changes everything.

Because if Jesus is the Way, then following Jesus shouldn’t make me more judgmental.

It should make me more loving.

It shouldn’t make me more concerned with who is right.

It should make me more concerned with how I am living.

It shouldn’t make me look across the room and ask, “Does that person believe what I believe?”

It should make me look in the mirror and ask:

“Am I becoming more like the man who told me to love my neighbor?”

That’s a much harder question.

And perhaps a much more important one.

The Danger of Being Right

I’ve spent enough time around religion to understand how easy it is to become more passionate about being right than becoming righteous.

We can become experts at defending God while failing to demonstrate the qualities of God.

We can argue theology with someone while treating them without compassion.

We can condemn someone’s beliefs while knowing almost nothing about their heart.

We can become so concerned about whether someone is walking the correct religious path that we forget to ask whether we are walking the path Jesus actually taught.

Jesus seemed particularly concerned about this.

Some of his strongest criticisms were directed toward religious people who knew Scripture, understood religious law, and believed they were righteous.

Their problem wasn’t that they didn’t know enough.

Their problem was that their knowledge hadn’t transformed their hearts.

They knew about God.

But they weren’t becoming more like God.

And that should make every religious person uncomfortable.

Including me.

Because perhaps the greatest test of spiritual understanding isn’t how well I can explain my beliefs.

Perhaps it’s how I treat the person who doesn’t share them.

What About the Person Who Doesn’t Believe What I Believe?

This is where my own struggle becomes real.

I believe there is truth in Jesus.

I believe his teachings have the power to transform a human life.

I believe he showed us something extraordinary about our relationship with God.

But I also believe human beings have been seeking God for thousands of years and across countless cultures.

I don’t believe God stopped speaking because one culture called Him by one name.

I don’t believe love, compassion, humility, forgiveness, wisdom and self-sacrifice belong exclusively to one religion.

And I don’t believe I have to pretend that every religion is identical in order to recognize that God can work beyond the boundaries we create.

Maybe that’s part of what it means to recognize that God is bigger than our understanding of God.

I can follow Jesus without believing I have to condemn everyone who follows another path.

I can believe Jesus is the Way without believing I have to become the judge of everyone else’s journey.

In fact, perhaps following Jesus should make me less interested in judging their journey and more interested in living mine.

Maybe Someone Can Walk the Way Without Knowing Its Name

This thought has challenged me.

What if someone can embody the Way without ever calling it Christianity?

What if someone lives with extraordinary compassion?

What if they forgive when they could retaliate?

What if they sacrifice for another person?

What if they love their enemies?

What if they spend their life serving people who can give them nothing in return?

What if they seek truth with humility and live according to the highest understanding they have?

Can I honestly look at that person and say, “God is not with you because you don’t believe what I believe”?

I don’t know.

And I’m becoming increasingly comfortable saying I don’t know when it comes to questions that are bigger than me.

But I do know this:

Jesus told me to love that person.

That’s something I don’t have to debate.

That’s something I can practice.

The Mirror

Maybe this is what it means to read the teachings of Jesus with a mirror in front of them.

When Jesus says, “Love your neighbor,” I don’t immediately need to ask who my neighbor is.

I need to ask:

Am I being a good neighbor?

When Jesus says, “Love your enemies,” I don’t need to create a list of people who qualify as enemies.

I need to ask:

Who am I struggling to love?

When Jesus says, “Forgive,” I don’t need to build a theological argument about forgiveness.

I need to ask:

Who am I still holding hostage in my heart?

When Jesus says, “Do not judge,” I need to look at the judgments I make every day.

And when Jesus says, “I am the Way,” perhaps the first question isn’t:

“Who isn’t on the Way?”

Perhaps it’s:

“Am I?”

That question changes everything.

I Don’t Need to Have It All Figured Out

Maybe faith isn’t having every theological question answered.

Maybe faith is being willing to walk even when some questions remain unanswered.

I can wrestle with John 14:6.

I can wonder exactly what Jesus meant when he said no one comes to the Father except through him.

I can study the language.

I can study the culture.

I can listen to people who interpret it differently than I do.

I can challenge interpretations I’ve inherited.

And I can remain humble enough to admit that I might not have the final answer.

But I don’t have to wait for the answer before I live the teachings that are already clear.

Love your neighbor.

That’s clear.

Love your enemy.

That’s clear.

Forgive.

That’s clear.

Serve.

That’s clear.

Give without needing recognition.

That’s clear.

Take care of the least among you.

That’s clear.

So perhaps my job isn’t to solve every mystery about Jesus.

Perhaps my job is to let Jesus solve something inside of me.

Because if Jesus really is the Way, then every step I take toward greater love, greater forgiveness, greater humility, greater compassion and greater surrender is a step worth taking.

And maybe that’s the paradox.

I don’t have to know exactly where every other person is on their spiritual journey.

I have enough work to do on my own.

I have a neighbor to love.

An enemy to forgive.

A heart to examine.

An ego to surrender.

A life to transform.

And perhaps the greatest way I can honor Jesus isn’t by convincing everyone else that I understand him.

Maybe it’s by becoming the kind of person whose life makes his teachings visible.

Jesus said he was the Way.

So I’ll keep walking.

And if I’m going to walk his Way, I want to make sure that wherever I go,

love comes with me.