I was discussing the teachings of Jesus with a friend when our conversation took an unexpected turn.
We started talking about what our lives reflect from the outside in.
What would people say about us if they watched our lives without hearing what we believe?
What would our families say?
What would our coworkers say?
What would the person who has experienced our kindness say?
What would the person who has experienced our anger say?
What would the person we have forgiven say?
What would the person we refused to forgive say?
If someone followed us around for a month, would they see a life that resembles the teachings of Jesus?
And then we started talking about worship.
Not just what happens inside a church building, but what our lives actually worship.
Because whatever receives our time, attention, energy, money, loyalty, and love is telling a story about what we worship.
Then, somehow, the conversation shifted.
We went from talking about how we live to talking about who we are.
And who we are became a question of identity.
Are you a Christian?
That question stopped me.
Not because there is anything wrong with being a Christian. I am not ashamed of the word. I am grateful for the people who have taught me, encouraged me, prayed for me, and helped me understand the teachings of Jesus through Christianity.
But I began wondering whether we sometimes make the label more important than the life.
Jesus didn’t walk around telling people to identify themselves as Christians.
He said, “Follow me.”
That is different.
A label can be claimed in a moment.
Following requires a life.
A label can be printed on a shirt.
Following has to show up when your spouse makes you angry.
When somebody cuts you off in traffic.
When someone insults you.
When you have been treated unfairly.
When nobody is watching.
When you have the opportunity to take advantage of someone and nobody would ever know.
When someone needs forgiveness but your ego wants revenge.
When you have more than enough but someone else has a need.
When you are right but being right isn’t nearly as important as loving the person in front of you.
That’s where the teachings of Jesus become real.
Perhaps We Have Confused Believing With Becoming
I wonder if somewhere along the way we sometimes became more concerned with believing the right things about Jesus than becoming the kind of person Jesus taught us to be.
We learned theology.
We learned doctrine.
We learned denominations.
We learned what our church believes.
We learned what our tradition says.
We learned which Scriptures support our position.
We learned how to explain our faith.
But did we learn how to love?
Did we learn how to forgive?
Did we learn how to surrender our ego?
Did we learn how to control our anger?
Did we learn how to serve without needing recognition?
Did we learn how to love our enemy?
Did we learn how to stop judging?
Did we learn how to tell the truth?
Did we learn how to give without expecting something in return?
Did we learn how to look at the person who has hurt us and still see a human being worthy of love?
Because Jesus repeatedly brought the conversation back there.
Jesus wasn’t simply trying to create people who could identify with Him.
He was calling people into transformation.
He wasn’t merely saying, Believe that I am right.
He was saying, in effect, Come with me. Learn my way. Live this way. Become different.
And that changes everything.
Christ-Like Is Closer
If I had to choose between simply being called a Christian and becoming Christ-like, I would say becoming Christ-like gets much closer to the heart of Jesus.
But even that phrase can become another label.
I can say, “I want to be Christ-like,” and still turn it into an identity.
I can wear the words without living the reality.
So perhaps the question isn’t even:
“Am I Christian?”
Or:
“Am I Christ-like?”
Perhaps the better question is:
“Is the life of Jesus becoming visible in me?”
That’s harder.
Because now I can’t hide behind the word.
I have to look at my life.
How do I treat people?
How do I respond when I’m angry?
How do I behave when I’m afraid?
How do I treat people who disagree with me?
How do I treat people who can do nothing for me?
What happens to my ego when I’m corrected?
What happens when someone hurts me?
Do I seek revenge, or do I seek understanding?
Do I hold grudges?
Do I forgive?
Do I serve?
Do I love?
Do I become more compassionate as I grow older, or more judgmental?
Do I need to win every argument?
Do I need everyone to know that I’m right?
Do I talk about Jesus more than I live what Jesus taught?
Those questions make the faith personal.
Love Is the Transformation
When Jesus was asked about the greatest commandment, He didn’t give a complicated theological system.
He said to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.
And then He connected that love directly to loving your neighbor.
Love God.
Love your neighbor.
Love your enemy.
Forgive.
Serve.
Give.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Don’t judge hypocritically.
Take care of the vulnerable.
Humble yourself.
Don’t seek recognition for your goodness.
Clean the inside of the cup.
Bear good fruit.
These aren’t simply doctrines to agree with.
They are invitations to become someone different.
And maybe that is what transformation really is.
Not becoming better at looking religious.
Becoming better at loving.
Not becoming better at defending Christianity.
Becoming better at living the way Jesus taught.
Not becoming better at winning theological arguments.
Becoming better at losing our need to win.
Not becoming better at identifying who is right and who is wrong.
Becoming better at seeing the humanity in the person standing in front of us.
What Does My Life Say?
This brings me back to the original conversation with my friend.
What does my life say?
If I never told anyone I was a Christian, would they see something different about the way I live?
Would they see forgiveness?
Would they see compassion?
Would they see humility?
Would they see discipline?
Would they see generosity?
Would they see peace?
Would they see someone willing to admit when he is wrong?
Would they see someone who doesn’t just talk about love but actually practices it?
Would they see Jesus?
Not because I wore a cross.
Not because I went to church.
Not because I knew the Bible.
Not because I could explain my theology.
But because something about the way I lived made the teachings of Jesus visible.
That is a much more uncomfortable question.
And perhaps a much more important one.
Because other people cannot see what I believe inside my head.
They see what comes out of me.
They see my behavior.
They experience my character.
They experience my words.
They experience my reactions.
They experience my love—or my lack of it.
My life becomes the evidence.
Maybe the Greatest Identity Is Not a Label
I don’t think Jesus was trying to build another club for people to join.
I think He was inviting people into a way of living.
A way of seeing.
A way of loving.
A way of surrendering.
A way of becoming.
And maybe that’s where we sometimes get ourselves into trouble.
We turn the invitation into an institution.
The way becomes a religion.
The teachings become theology.
The community becomes a denomination.
The identity becomes a label.
And somewhere along the way, the transformation can get lost.
We can become experts at explaining Jesus while remaining strangers to the way Jesus lived.
That should make every one of us stop.
Including me.
Because this isn’t an argument against Christianity.
It is an invitation to look beneath the word.
If calling myself a Christian makes me more loving, more forgiving, more humble, more truthful, more compassionate and more willing to serve, then the identity is pointing me toward something meaningful.
But if the identity makes me feel superior to people who don’t share it, then I have missed something.
If my theology gives me permission to hate, I have missed something.
If my religion makes me judgmental, I have missed something.
If my knowledge of Scripture makes me less compassionate, I have missed something.
If being right becomes more important than loving my neighbor, I have missed something.
Because Jesus said the greatest commandments were about love.
And love isn’t merely something I say I believe.
Love is something I do.
The Question I Want to Carry
So perhaps I don’t need to spend quite so much time asking:
“Do people know that I’m a Christian?”
Maybe I should ask:
“Do people experience the love Jesus taught through me?”
Maybe I should stop worrying so much about whether people recognize my religious identity and start worrying about whether my character reflects the person I claim to follow.
Because Christianity can be spoken.
Christ-likeness has to be lived.
And even Christ-likeness is not ultimately about looking like Jesus from the outside.
It is about allowing the teachings of Jesus to work their way into the deepest places within us until they begin changing how we think, how we respond, how we love, how we forgive, and how we live.
That is transformation.
Not simply changing what I call myself.
Changing who I am becoming.
And perhaps the greatest testimony I can give isn’t saying,
“I am a Christian.”
Perhaps it is living in such a way that someone else can say,
“I don’t know exactly what he believes, but there is something different about the way he loves.”
Maybe that is where the label finally becomes unnecessary.
Because the life is speaking for itself.
Leave a comment