What is a Christian?

words change their meaning over time

I’ve been thinking a lot about the label, “Christian.”

When I do, I hear Inigo’s words to Vizzini from the Princess Bride, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

It feels like we are living in a time – a time I never anticipated I would be living in – when “Christian” is being used by so many and in so many contexts that it no longer means what I thought it meant. That’s led me to do a lot of reflecting on what I think “Christian” means to me or what I feel that label denotes – not as used in popular culture but to me, now. I’m not suggesting this is my private interpretation. I didn’t get to this meaning on my own or by myself. It’s not disconnected from the Bible. But I know that in my contemporary, White, evangelical, North American context, what I mean by “Christian” is not the meaning held, it seems, by the majority.

Love is known by what it does.

One of my favorite quotes that has been a guide for my own journey of following Jesus is from Teresa of Avila. She wrote, "We cannot know whether we love God, although there may be strong reasons for thinking so, but there can be no doubt about whether we love our neighbor or not." It’s easy to say I love God, and for a lot of us it’s easy to sing that I love God, the real proof, the only meaningful proof of that love, is visibly demonstrated in my love for other people.

This is the echo of the New Testament. 1 John 4 tells us, “Dear friends, let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God. Anyone who loves is a child of God and knows God. But anyone who does not love does not know God, for God is love. God showed how much he loved us by sending his one and only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through him. This is real love—not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins. Dear friends, since God loved us that much, we surely ought to love each other. No one has ever seen God. But if we love each other, God lives in us, and his love is brought to full expression in us…We know how much God loves us, and we have put our trust in his love. God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them. And as we live in God, our love grows more perfect. So we will not be afraid on the day of judgment, but we can face him with confidence because we live like Jesus here in this world.” To live “in love” isn’t about starry-eyed infatuation with God or other people, it’s about living a life centered on extending love to others in tangible and meaningful ways centered on provision and protection.

Paul will reverberate with this same frequency when he writes his letter to the Corinthian church. “Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” Love engages with life. It’s not a feeling or general emotional disposition towards others but something seen in how it acts, reacts and just does towards others. In our story, love seems to be action first, feeling second – or third or fourth.

If we turn to the Gospels as our source material, it’s what Matthew describes in Jesus’ story of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25. This parable draws our attention to the reality that Jesus seems to have believed that following him meant doing as he did, carrying for the emotional and material needs of those most vulnerable.

Matthew writes, “But when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit upon his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered in his presence, and he will separate the people as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep at his right hand and the goats at his left.

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’

“Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’

“Then the King will turn to those on the left and say, ‘Away with you, you cursed ones, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his demons. For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’

“Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’

“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’

“And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous will go into eternal life.”

You can’t read a story about nations being judged based on how they treated the most vulnerable and marginalized and decide Jesus doesn’t connect how we love others with how we love him. Flip over to John’s Gospel and listen in on Jesus’ post-resurrection conversation with and restoration of Peter. How does Jesus center love in their relationship?

After breakfast Jesus asked Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?”

“Yes, Lord,” Peter replied, “you know I love you.”

“Then feed my lambs,” Jesus told him.

Jesus repeated the question: “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord,” Peter said, “you know I love you.”

“Then take care of my sheep,” Jesus said.

A third time he asked him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

Peter was hurt that Jesus asked the question a third time. He said, “Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Then feed my sheep.

He doesn’t ask Peter to sing him a song or put something in the offering plate or spend an hour listening to soft music and meditating on his love for Jesus or to volunteer for one more ministry at the church. Jesus says, “take care of the people of God.” On both the macro and micro level, being part of the people of God is centered on doing love, and being a Christian is centered on the same. As the Gospel of John says it, “Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples.” Or in Matthew, “You have heard the law that says, ‘Love your neighbor’ and hate your enemy. But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven.”

As love is known by what it does, a Christian is a person who proves the reliability of the Story they claim to be in by the way they love other people, especially the marginalized from whom they have nothing to gain, and who demonstrate love for their enemies. A Christian is a person who lives, to the best of their ability, in the attitude and relational practices of Jesus of the four Gospels. A Christian embodies, to the best of their abilities the qualities and character of the kingdom of God.

As a professional Christian, I’ve spent several decades in a system, the evangelical industrial complex, including more than a couple decades in the boutique, charismatic evangelical industrial complex, in which I have had it emphasized that the primary mark of being a Christian is believing the right doctrinal/theological statements the right way. Which is incredibly rich as we have a 2000 year old story that has been an ongoing narrative of formation and reformation, of doctrinal split after doctrinal split and a multiplicity of denominations dividing – we say – for theological purity.

The other day I was explaining to my mother the history of the movement that I used to be a part of. Our origin story involved a group of Presbyterians in Scotland that were exhausted by the sectarian nature of denominational life. “Christians only!” became one of their chief mottos. “Bible things by Bible names!” was another. And pretty soon they decided that “Disciples of Christ” was the most biblical name to call themselves. But by the time the movement reached the States they would be divided North and South. They would become the Christian Church with piano and the Churches of Christ (non-instrumental) – because the New Testament says make a melody in your heart, it doesn’t say a word about the piano or organ. While we complained bitterly about this division, the North would later divide Disciples of Christ from Christian Church in response to perceived theological liberalism creeping in to the Church. The non-instrumental brethren continued to divide over doctrinal issues like the “one cup brethren” who pointed out that in the Gospels, Jesus took THE cup, not one of many tiny cups, for communion and those using multiple cups in little trays were clearly apostates who disregarded the clear teaching of scripture.

Doctrinal purity is a tricky fish to catch. We have 2000 years of church history proving we’re not only prone to find things to disagree over, but we’re also not afraid to kill each other to prove we’re right. I’m not saying our story doesn’t matter. I think it absolutely does matter. What I’m trying to say is that like the religious leaders in Jesus’ day, our tendency is to focus on the lesser and ignore the greater aspects of our story. What I am suggesting is that I learn a lot more about what a person truly believes by the way they live and their attitudes towards others, than I do their statement of faith or the songs they sing or the meetings they attend or the label they wear.

Of second (but nearly equal) importance has been doing the right behaviors assigned by my cultural Christian context. The person who most influenced me for Jesus as a young person attended a church that did not allow their members to see movies or go to dances. After becoming a Christian, I was part of a church that banned drinking alcohol, smoking anything besides meats, and that banned women from practicing the same leadership roles as men. In our present cultural moment, someone who is part of this same charismatic/evangelical industrial complex doesn’t have to be directly told in order to know that there is only one American political party that a Christian can vote for. And often their vote and how they cast it is directly tied to their identity as a Christian. We are living in a time when American Christians are discussing empathy as a sin. Often, over committing ourselves at church or “being busy for Jesus” is criteria that carries more weight among us than being people who genuinely love well. We have empowered abusive leaders, platformed and applauded them and elevated people – not because “they sure sound and act like Jesus” – but because they can get things done.

None of this would matter much if being a Christian was a personal choice with no relational connections that have been built into the identity. When someone tells me that they are a Vegan, I might not feel like it’s a choice I would make but neither do I perceive them through the lens of all the people practicing Veganism today or the historical narrative of Vegans over the past 2000 years. But when I tell someone I’m a Christian, I feel compelled to qualify what I mean by that or what it means to me – like I’m doing in this post – because our historical record has some high points but arguably even more low points of the inhumanity of people who call themselves “Christian” towards others who label themselves the same way. And in the United States today, it feels like we are in an increasingly more conflicted time with the rise of Christian Nationalism, the coopting of the evangelical faith by MAGA Republicanism and the Consumerism/Mammon that has been embraced rather than rejected by the majority.

Part of this contemplation started when I joined a Recovery community. When I read the Big Book of AA and talked with addicts and alcoholics, as an evangelical, I was eager to correct their ideas about “a higher power.” For me, an evangelical pastor, “higher power” was too vague to do anyone any good. It seemed very “liberal” and “new agey” to me – let’s call God, God or Jesus and get people connected to the real source of recovery. But listening to friends in meetings and in receiving their Fifth step, I learned that one of the greatest triggers and sources of shame in a lot of their lives was the God that people like me had preached at them and a broken version of religion we insisted they adhere to in order to be “saved.” So they could call themselves, “Christian.”

What I learned by listening was that there are people who carry so much trauma in their lives from sexual abuse at the hands of a deacon or pastor or religious parent or religious step-parent that they may never meet God through the triggering doorway of evangelicalism. It’s not stubborn pride or a rebellious nature that holds them back from following Jesus, it’s the experience they had at the hands of a professional Christian like me – who they were told to associate with God or with Jesus as their “spiritual authority.” And I’m not suggesting that trauma keeps everyone away from organized religion, rather, I would suggest that trauma has kept millions of women in organized religion like abused wives who can’t leave their abuser for fear of losing their children, their friends, their financial security, their home and their local church.

We live in a time when evangelical Christians have overwhelmingly voted to put a self-confessed, sexual predator in the highest office of the land and assured people, despite his obvious stream of lies, that he is God’s chosen. We live in a time when denominational leaders can cover up abuse and tell half-truths and lies and still carry on in their offices by the will of the majority. 1 out of every 6 American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime. Collectively, we have re-traumatized millions and millions of women. We have emboldened the dark underbelly of our culture so much so that vices are becoming virtues.

And what I want to say to anyone who is listening is that this is not what being a Christian means. Being a Christian is supposed to mean a person transformed by the experience of God’s love who is determined to extend that love – without qualification – to the people around them. A Christian is a person who has no other commander in chief but Jesus, no other allegiance but to the kingdom of God. We don’t kill our enemies, we love them. We don’t lie, we tell each other the truth. We don’t re-traumatize victims and survivors, we empower them. We don’t call empathy a sin, we seek to understand even more than we seek to be understood. We don’t value or devalue people based on the color of their skin or their cultural or religious background. We don’t dehumanize transgender people or gay and lesbian people because we know they are us, made in the image of God.

Do love. Oppose darkness.

At least, that’s what “Christian” means to me these days.