Comer’s approach is to stir discontent with historic Christianity, repackage trendy ideas as timeless truth, and sell it as a spiritual awakening. This is not the way.
Every seven years or so, a new theological influencer emerges to write a popular book explaining how Western Christians have gotten everything wrong. The masses cheer it on as if it’s some divine revelation from someone who claims to have rediscovered the “ancient way” that “transforms the way we think” about Christianity. But it almost always ends up being a novel progressive ideology couched in ancient spiritual language.
Now, I’m no “scholar.” I’m just a husband, father, and an active Baptist layman with a strong interest in theology. I don’t have a significant following, I don’t have a podcast, and I don’t have anything to sell or for you to subscribe to. What I do have is a desire to help the church remain faithful to God’s Word and sound theology in a day and age full of siren songs beckoning compromise.
Last week, I finished John Mark Comer’s recent book, Practicing the Way, and posted a thread on X sharing my concerns. I was surprised to see how much engagement the thread received and how useful many found it.
One young man who read it noted that “This puts words to the frustration I felt at getting handed this book by our church pastor as an example of how we could minister to the men. New age drivel that wears a mantle of Christianity.”
Perhaps his pastor was uninformed about the issues with Comer’s theology and approach. But even if that’s the most charitable explanation, that’s still a problem. Both pastors and pew-sitters have an obligation to be on guard against false teachers who, if allowed inside the church, will ravage the sheep. Remember, the wolves don’t look like wolves—they come dressed in sheep’s clothing (Matthew 7:15).
Encouraged by the interest in the topic, I turned that thread into an article-form book review that I pray will help equip pastors and Christians in the pew to be on guard against the major theological issues with this new “NYT bestseller” book. Because whether it’s Rob Bell’s Velvet Elvis or Shane Claiborne’s The Irresistible Revolution, the pattern remains the same: stir discontent with historic Christianity, repackage trendy ideas as timeless truth, and sell it as spiritual awakening.
Enter John Mark Comer with his latest offering, Practicing the Way, the new and improved Rob Bell for a generation seeking “spiritual authenticity.”
The “Ancient Way” That Sounds Remarkably Modern
Comer presents himself as having uncovered forgotten truths about following Jesus, harkening back to an “ancient way” of discipleship. Yet curiously, this ancient path sounds strikingly similar to modern 21st-century new-age progressivism.
Who could ever have thought that the way of those desert fathers would chime so perfectly with tastes and values cherished among urban sophisticates in northwestern America?
This alignment isn’t coincidental. Throughout the book, Comer demonstrates little evidence of reading Scripture with careful attention to the cultural and historical context of the ancient Mediterranean world. Instead, much of what he presents is modern spiritual consumerism dressed as ancient practice. He frequently references psychologists and activists, grounding his spiritual formation more in contemporary therapeutic categories than in theological inquiry.
His tendency to frame his approach as a rediscovery of “true Christianity” dismisses centuries of biblical and theological wisdom. He criticizes Western formulas for spiritual growth— “go to church, read your Bible and pray, give”—only to immediately offer his formulas, like using statements from (the incredibly liberal) Fuller Seminary. He undermines traditional approaches while constantly providing alternative techniques and methods, suggesting that the church has fundamentally misunderstood discipleship until now.
Evangelism: “Narrow, Cowardly, and Outdated“
Comer’s chapter on evangelism and sharing the Gospel is perhaps the most eyebrow-raising aspect of his approach. He admits to feeling “anxious” when hearing someone “preach the Gospel even in a loving, culturally sensitive way” and describes having an “allergic reaction” to the phrase itself. This baffling admission from a Christian leader about Gospel proclamation ignores Paul’s declaration in Romans 1:16: “I am not ashamed of the Gospel for it is the power of God to salvation for everyone who believes.”
His treatment of street preachers is particularly telling. He describes them as having a “bizarre mix of Jesus loves you and fire” and being “tone deaf and sometimes cruel.” While acknowledging that sharing faith is necessary and that Christians face hostility in a secular age, he immediately distances himself from bold proclamation. “I have no desire to be associated with Christians like this,” he states, referring not just to extreme fundamentalists but to ordinary believers who boldly proclaim the Gospel.
This raises an important question: if Comer were a first-century listener, would he have wanted nothing to do with Christ and the apostles who came after him when they said things that rubbed people the wrong way? Reading Comer, one wouldn’t think he believes the Gospel is “the power of God to salvation.” There’s no urgency, no stakes, no sense that anything eternal hangs in the balance. And that’s his point. While Comer rightly criticizes the emphasis on “going to heaven when we die,” he doesn’t seem to have much concern about what comes later after death. To put it another way, Comer is right to caution about being so heavily minded that one is no earthly good, but goes into another ditch of being so earthly minded that he seems to forget there’s a judgment to come, a kingdom not of this world, and a King who calls all people everywhere to repent.
Comer throws the baby out with the bathwater. For him, sharing the Gospel primarily means having a meal with someone—a good thing, certainly, but at some point, you have to actually say something. His “five best practices for preaching the gospel” include offering hospitality, finding where God is already working, bearing witness, “doing the stuff” (healing, prophecy), and living a beautiful life. While these have merit, they notably avoid the simple act of verbal proclamation that characterizes apostolic ministry.
His approach to evangelism feels more like a branding exercise, stripped of the boldness and clarity that defined the early church’s witness.
Lifestyle Over Heart Change
Comer regularly misuses Christ’s words to emphasize lifestyle apprenticeship over heart transformation. While his rejection of antinomianism is a welcome one, he confuses the command to follow Jesus with a feeling of lifestyle coaching, prioritizing habit formation over the necessary heart change that produces genuine fruit.
His treatment of Jesus’s words in John 14:6 exemplifies this problem. Comer explains that Christians mistakenly interpret “I am the way, the truth, and the life” as referring to who is “in” and who is “out,” when Jesus really meant that “the marriage of his truth (his teaching) and his way (lifestyle) is how to get the life God offers.” He reinterprets Christ’s words about entering the narrow gate in Matthew 7:13-14 into something that completely misses the gravitas of Christ’s words. Rather than understanding the warning about few finding the path to life as referring to salvation itself, Comer suggests it merely describes “a very specific way to live” that leads to better life outcomes and personal fulfillment. This therapeutic reading strips away the eternal stakes of Jesus’s teaching.
Comer says, “Jesus did not zap people’s character and habits as he does in saving the soul,” which is partially true. But he misses how people’s habits and character are changed through new life in Christ through the Spirit. Comer is laser-focused on developing new habits but shows little to no concern for people obtaining new hearts.
Minimal Focus on Christ’s Identity
Comer likewise has little regard for who Jesus Christ is and presents him more as an example to be followed rather than the incarnate Son of God who should be obeyed. While acknowledging Jesus’s role in salvation, his primary concern isn’t who Christ is but how one can imitate Him. He downplays Christ’s divine nature, atonement, and resurrection, emphasizing instead Jesus’s teachings as a lifestyle framework through apprenticeship.
One example of this is when Comer discusses Jesus’s miracles. He argues that Jesus performed miracles not by acting in His divine nature but by relying on the Holy Spirit: “Jesus did what he did by drawing from the capacities of God… My point is Jesus did what he did not by flexing his God muscles like Thor, but through reliance on the Godhead.” While this may sound like splitting hairs, Comer’s downplaying of Christ’s divine nature is directly related to his emphasis on Christ as an example. The quote risks implying that Christ did not act as God. Worse yet, saying that Christ relied on the Godhead provides a misleading view of the Trinity, as if God were something external to him. Christ’s submission to the Father is voluntary; it has nothing to do with a lack of divine authority. Here’s the point: in downplaying who Christ is, he misses one of the major reasons the religious leaders put him to death. Christ didn’t die because he was a kind rabbi who sat in quiet contemplation. Christ died because he claimed to be God. Contra Comer, Christ appealed to his divine authority regularly.
Even worse, Comer states, “It’s not so much that Jesus is God as much as God is Jesus”—a phrase that borders on the heterodox. Again, Comer blurs trinitarian distinctions, implying that all of God is identified solely with Christ, and suggests that the entire divine essence is reducible to Christ’s incarnate form.
While the Spirit’s role in Jesus’s earthly ministry is important, Comer’s emphasis minimizes Christ’s unique divine nature in favor of presenting Him as merely the ultimate example of Spirit-empowered humanity. This reductionist Christology fits his apprenticeship model but fails to account for the full witness in Scripture about Christ’s person and work. For Comer, Jesus did not come here primarily to live a perfect life, die, and be raised, but for us to live as examples – as apprentices.
Diminishing the Church and Word
Comer significantly diminishes the church’s role in Christian discipleship, presenting it as secondary, if not irrelevant, to spiritual formation. He even goes as far as to chastize Christians at one point for going to church as a replacement for therapy.
He dismisses baptism and communion as life-giving means of grace, showing little regard for church leadership and authority. For Comer, the preaching of the Word is just one among many “pathways to God”—alongside walking dogs or spin classes. This flattening of spiritual disciplines removes the distinctive role God has ordained for His church and the means of grace He has provided. At one point, in downplaying the churchn he even puts it in the same category as therapy saying, “As we gaze…as we look at God looking at us in love…this act as the potential to transform our lives and heal our wounds in ways that more Bible study, church attendance, and even therapy (as good as those are) cannot possibly touch.”
His individualistic approach to spiritual growth ironically contradicts his frequent criticisms of Western individualism. He promotes contemplative mysticism as the apex of Christian spirituality, describing a peasant sitting silently in church as representing the highest form of spiritual life. While contemplative prayer has its place, Comer’s emphasis creates a hierarchy that devalues corporate worship, biblical preaching, and communal spiritual formation.
The church, in Comer’s vision, becomes largely unnecessary for serious discipleship. This represents a fundamental departure from the New Testament’s vision of the church as the body of Christ and the primary context for spiritual growth and accountability.
A Gospel Without Offense
Perhaps the most glaring issue with Comer’s presentation is its complete lack of offense. There is no way that the sanitized, culturally accommodating version of Christianity he presents would have provoked the violent opposition that led to the martyrdom of the early apostles. A Christianity stripped of its sharp edges and prophetic confrontation with sin would have been far more palatable to ruling classes and religious establishments, hardly warranting the extreme persecution that became the hallmark of early Christian witness.
Comer’s approach to sin exemplifies this sanitization. He presents sin primarily as a disease of the soul rather than rebellion against God, emphasizing healing over forgiveness and transformation over justification. While acknowledging multiple biblical frameworks for understanding sin (honor/shame, power/fear, clean/defiled), he consistently minimizes its moral dimensions and eternal consequences.
His treatment of the Greek word sozo (saved/healed) deliberately blurs essential distinctions: “Salvation is healing. It is not just about getting back on the right side of God’s mercy through judicial acquittal. It’s about having your soul healed by God’s loving touch.” This retelling avoids the reality of divine judgment and human accountability.
The Jesus of Scripture consistently claimed divine authority, preached repentance from sin as the prerequisite for entering His kingdom, and confronted religious and political establishments with uncompromising truth.
Comer’s Jesus would be utterly unrecognizable to first-century audiences. For Comer, Jesus is essentially a “life coach” rather than the Incarnate Lord who warned of eternal judgment for those who reject Him. Who would have killed such a man on a cross?
Everything and Nothing
Comer attempts to synthesize Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Protestant traditions while leaning heavily into Eastern mysticism, though his version resembles New Age spirituality more than historic Christian mysticism. He’s Eastern Orthodox for those who don’t like Eastern Orthodoxy, Roman Catholic for those who don’t like Rome, and Protestant for those who don’t like Protestantism”—everything and nothing at the same time.
This eclectic approach allows him to cherry-pick appealing elements from various traditions while avoiding their challenging aspects. The result is a spirituality that feels profound but lacks the doctrinal substance and ecclesial accountability that characterizes mature Christian discipleship.
Or, as one pastor pointedly summarized Comer’s approach, “It’s always remarkable how the way ‘Jesus actually intended the church to be’ always aligns with the progressive spirit of the age, be it radical anabaptism in the 1500’s, the social gospel in the 1800’s, or the liberal race communism of today.”
Those who lived through the emergent church movement of the 2000s will recognize this pattern. Like Rob Bell, Brian McLaren, and Shane Claiborne before him, Comer offers a deconstructed Christianity that promises to recover authentic spirituality while delivering nothing more than a “Christianity” syncretized with contemporary sensibilities.
As such, those who follow Comer’s path will indeed be practicing a “way,” it just won’t be “The Way” of Jesus Christ and the one true Church.
