John Mark Comer, a popular author and speaker, is making waves in the evangelical world with his latest book, Practicing the Way: Be With Jesus. Become Like Him. Do As He Did. The book is a New York Times bestseller and has led to the creation of a website and ministry that exists “to develop free resources to help churches apprentice in the Way of Jesus.”[1] Given Comer’s widespread influence, this is my attempt to help Christians think carefully about what Comer has written.
1. See https://www.practicingtheway.org/about.
Simply stated, Practicing the Way is an easy-to-read, somewhat enjoyable, discipleship-oriented book that aims to call men and women to apprentice under Jesus. Comer rightly states that “we’re all disciples,” and “we are each becoming something” (xi, xiii). That is, we are all being shaped by those around us and are being transformed into certain types of people.
This is certainly true. We are all being shaped by the people and influences that we allow into our lives. The question is, what are we becoming? Or, more to Comer’s point, who are we becoming like? When it comes to the people we are letting shape us, Comer wants you to think about who you learn from. He asks, “Who is your Rabbi?” (xiv). For Comer, his Rabbi is Jesus, his “luminary of choice” (xiv). And he wants to call his readers to heed the call of Jesus and “follow [him]” (Mark 1:17). What does that look like? “Be with Jesus. Become like him. Do as he did.” For Comer, that’s apprenticing under Jesus.
As far as it goes, the call to follow Jesus and to be his disciple is one that resonates with the New Testament. Comer takes the New Testament call to discipleship seriously and writes in a way that translates these ancient Christian ideas into easy-to-understand language. He offers a compelling invitation to an intentional, contemplative, and well-paced Christ-centered life. In Practicing the Way, Comer urges readers to slow down and rediscover the basic idea of what it means to be a follower of Christ. He wants to impress on his readers the importance of cultivating spiritual habits, a rule for life, that will help you “be with Jesus, to let him form you into a person of love” (170).
Now, like others, I enjoyed certain elements of the book. If you’re well-grounded in your faith and soaked with the Bible, portions of Comer’s work may be used by God to encourage you to be more thoughtful in your walk with Jesus. At the same time, however, Practicing the Way is marked by theological thinness at best, particularly in its treatment—or lack thereof—of sin, the cross, and Christ’s substitutionary atonement. While Comer’s approach to discipleship resonates with many who long for spiritual renewal—or at least want practical encouragement in the realm of spiritual formation—the book’s tone and emphases ultimately risk presenting Jesus more as a spiritual sage than as the wrath-averting Lamb of God who is the Savior of the world.
In short, my main problem with the book is that Comer pushes to the periphery what the New Testament places at the center: the death and resurrection of Jesus.
A Few Appreciations
Before I dive into my critique, I want to acknowledge a few things I appreciate about the book.
Accessible and Engaging
Comer’s writing is clear, warm, and engaging. He communicates with a pastoral and conversational tone that draws readers in. A lot of the paragraphs are short; some are a mere sentence long. As you read, you feel like the book is moving along at a good pace (this seems important given the relatively short attention spans so many readers have these days). His style is light, accessible, engaging, and well-suited to the modern reader.
Reclaiming Discipleship as Formation
Comer revives the ancient model of imitatio Christi (Latin for ‘imitation of Christ’), presenting discipleship as transformation rather than merely an intellectual pursuit. In this, Comer is on the right track. Transformation was what Paul was after in his ministry, too. In Colossians 1:28, Paul labored and toiled in order to “present everyone mature in Christ.” Christian discipleship is more than a prayer or some religious activities, but following Jesus and being shaped into his image.
Emphasizing Spiritual Disciplines or Habits of Grace
The book offers practical pathways to incorporate spiritual discipline into everyday life. Again, this is a welcome exhortation. While reading Comer on the spiritual disciplines, I was reminded of books like Spiritual Disciplines for the Christian Life by Donald Whitney or the more recent work, Habits of Grace by David Mathis (both books I would highly recommend over Practicing the Way). But Comer does rightly remind us that through the practice of spiritual disciplines or “the practices” (174), both “we work” and “God works” (179). And Comer understands which role each party plays: “Our part is to slow down, make space, surrender to God; his part is to transform us” (179). As far as this goes, I appreciate the call for Christian to practice the disciplines in order to be transformed by the power of the Spirit of God.
A Call to Practice what you Profess
One of the sad realities in our day is that we still live in an age of nominal Christianity. There are many who profess to be Christians but whose Christianity makes little to no difference in their lives. Comer notes that the word “Christian,” occurring only three times in the New Testament, “literally means ‘little Christ’ . . . originally used as a religious epithet to mock followers of the Way…[but] that is no longer what the word conveys to many people today” (14). Instead, “to many in the West, a Christian is just someone who mentally ascribes to the bare bones of Christianity . . . and may or may not occasionally attend church” (14).
Comer continues to challenge the religion of cultural Christianity.[2] He notes that “63 percent of Americans self-identify as Christians,” but that some surveys show “the number of Americans who are following Jesus [is] around 4 percent” (15). The problem, as Comer sees it (and I resonate with this take) is that we have a Christian culture “where you can be a Christian but not an apprentice [i.e., disciple] of Jesus” (16). As Comer says later, “Churches are full of Christians but not apprentices of Jesus” (83). Both Comer and I believe a cultural Christian environment that often leads to nominal Christianity can be a problem, and I’m happy to see him call it out.
2. See Dean Inserra, The Unsaved Christian: Reaching Cultural Christianity with the Gospel (Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2019) for a helpful and robust critique of this devilish form of the faith.
In some ways, I found this call similar to what John MacArthur was doing in the 1980s. Some theologians had argued that someone could believe in Jesus as “Savior” without having him as “Lord.” That is, they alleged that you could be in a converted state of grace but lack the fruit of repentance or live in obedience to Jesus; you could be a Christian, but not a disciple. The late John MacArthur published The Gospel According to Jesus in 1988 and The Gospel According to the Apostles shortly after in 1993 to combat this false teaching, rightly emphasizing that one’s practice should match their profession of faith. Without the fruits of repentance and faith—and subsequent obedience—the genuineness of one’s Christian profession is thrown into question. What MacArthur was doing towards the end of the 20th century and what Comer is doing today—calling for a profession of faith and practice of discipleship—is something we need in every corner of the evangelical world.
Now, though there were elements I enjoyed in the book, there is plenty to critique. Others have already offered important criticism of the book. Kevin DeYoung has the most thorough review of the book that I’ve read and does a masterful job of locating Comer in terms of his tradition, challenging his exegesis, and pointing out some fatal flaws. Wyatt Graham has offered a shorter review of Practicing the Way and written at length in other places about Comer’s theology proper. J. A. Medders also offered a short review, and Daniel Schreiner has offered a brief reflection that shows shortcomings of Comer’s book, too.
Those brothers have served us well. To add to the discussion, my review lingers longer on the apprentice vs. disciple discussion in Comer before focusing on how Comer minimizes specific (and important) theological issues that the Bible maximizes. In the end, I believe walking the way of Comer could cause you to miss the way of Jesus altogether.
Apprentice or Disciple: A Confused Discussion
First, Comer has an intriguing critique about the common practice of the church to talk about “discipling” one another. He says that using the noun “disciple” as a verb “is bad form” (12). In his mind, this language has caused men and women to expect others to do the work of following Jesus for them (e.g., my pastor didn’t disciple me!). It makes it seem as if “disciple is something done to you (a verb)” and therefore “puts the onus of responsibility for your spiritual formation on someone else” (13). This is no small point for Comer. He wants you to own your own spiritual development. “You must choose to accept Jesus’s invitation to a life of apprenticeship . . . If you choose to enroll as his student . . . that means when you wake up tomorrow morning, your entire life is architected to this threefold aim: to be with Jesus, to become like him, and to do as he did” (13).
So what does Comer suggest is a better term? He prefers to call believers ‘apprentices’ instead of ‘disciples.’ He writes, “the problem with the word disciple is that we don’t use it much outside church circles” (11). He notes that the Hebrew word for disciple is talmid and means “a student of a teacher or a philosopher—not just a learner but a practitioner of an embodied way of life, one who is diligently working to be with and become like their master” (11). For Comer, the English “disciple” doesn’t capture the practitioner piece inherent in talmid. His word “apprentice” does the work for him (11). For Comer, “apprentice” is such a helpful word. It conjures up a mode of education that is intentional, embodied, relational, and practice based—a type of learning that is totally different than what I grew up with” (11, emphasis original). Again, one can see Comer’s focus on practice. Apprentice captures the reality that you are called to practice your faith, to take responsibility for your own formation. Apprentice is not something done to you, it is who you are.
Again, the call to follow Jesus in practice and to take some responsibility for your spiritual formation is good. But Comer isn’t careful here. Yes, disciple is a noun. But, importantly, it is also a verb.[3] (The reader will overlook me for getting into the weeds momentarily for this important lingustic point below.)
3. For the life of me, I do not understand why Comer doesn’t deal with the four instances in Greek where “disciple” is precisely used as a verb: Matthew 13:52; 27:57, 28:19, and Acts 14:21!
In Matthew 28:19, for instance, the word “disciples” translates mathēteuō. The term means to be a student, a learner, and/or a pupil. “Apprentice” is even listed as a gloss in BDAG, the standard Greek Lexicon in the English language.[4] But notice that it is a verb in that text. In Matthew 28:19, Jesus commands his followers to “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations…” In the Greek text, there is no word for “make.” Instead, that English word is added because the word “disciples” is a verbal form (mathēteuō) and means “make disciples” (cf. Acts 14:21). Furthermore, as Knox Brown points out, “If Comer says ‘disciple’ as a verb only means being a disciple, and not making them, then that’s false because all nations’ is the direct object of mathēteuō: ‘disciple all nations’ is nonsense if the verb ‘disciple’ doesn’t mean ‘make disciples.’”[5] In short, Comer’s assertion that “disciple” is a noun and not a verb does not work when looking at the actual usage in the New Testament.
4. BDAG is an abbreviation for the English-speaking world’s most comprehensive and famous Koine Greek lexicon, or dictionary. Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, Rev. and Ed. by Frederick W. Danker, 3rd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000).
5. Knox is a PhD student at Southern Seminary and has carefully read this entire draft and made several important improvements.
Consider Matthew 13:52. In that text Jesus says, “every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.” The phrase “has been trained” translates mathēteutheis, a passive verb. Here, then, being discipled (i.e. “trained”) is absolutely something done to the scribe rather than merely denoting who they are. Again, if Comer were to pay attention to the way disciple is used in the New Testament he’d find the assertion that “disciple is a noun, not a verb” is verifiably false.
Finally, using “disciple” as a verb rightly captures the command to go and “make disciples” (Matt. 28:19) and to do the work of presenting men and women mature in Christ (Col. 1:28). That is, Jesus does not merely call us to be disciples under him personally, but to call others to be disciples. We are to “make disciples,” to “teach [disciples/apprentices] to observe all that [Christ] commanded” (Matt. 28:20). It is this teaching people to be disciples that has led Christians rightly to use “disciple” as a verb.
In Comer’s reconstruction, the Great Commission is a call to go and make “apprentices . . . teaching them to observe all that [Christ] commanded.” If we grant the use of the word apprentices, it is quite legitimate to then ask, who are you apprenticing? That is, who are you teaching to follow Jesus? It is overly simplistic to say, as Comer does, that a disciple is who you are and not what you do. It’s both! The Great Commission certainly says every Christian is a disciple, but every Christian is also called to “make disciples.” That, in the end, provides more legitimate grounds to use disciple as a verb.
In my mind, Comer undermines, in a subtle way, the call not merely to be a disciple of Jesus but the call to make other disciples of Jesus and teach them to obey Jesus as Lord of life. In the end, such an emphasis will tend to encourage individualistic Christianity, one that fails to go beyond itself. Taking the call of “make disciples” out of the larger vision of Christianity could cut the legs out from under evangelism and global missions. Comer himself clearly wants to introduce people to Jesus, he wants others to be apprentices, but his line of argumentation here seems to undermine the necessity to call people away from sin and to the Lamb of God who takes away their sin.
Minimizing what Should Be Maximized
Sin and Salvation
Comer rightly acknowledges that “something is deeply off in the human heart” (89). He even acknowledges that human beings do “terrible things” (89). Yet, when it comes to focusing on the most serious issue related to sin—that sin is first and foremost against a holy God (cf. Ps. 51:4) before whom we now stand guilty and condemned—Comer chooses to downplay this so-called “Western” idea. It isn’t that he denies that sin has a “forensic” dimension, but that he chooses to put that on the periphery. As he says, talking about sin in forensic terms is “a biblical view, but it’s not the biblical view” (93). Instead, it is simply the Western emphasis.
In place of the so-called Western view of sin as guilt, Comer provides a list of “all sorts of other paradigms” that one can use to understand sin. Honor/Shame, Power/Fear, or Shalom/Chaos are but three examples on his list (93). Comer wants to expand one’s view of sin in order to emphasize his preferred paradigm. He prefers “the idea of sin as a kind of disease of the soul and salvation as the healing of the whole person” (93). Of course, Christians have rightly noted that salvation has healing implications for centuries.
Indeed, Jesus heals the sick in his ministry. And the Greek word for save (sōzō) carries connotations of deliverance from physical distress.[6] The question, however, is not how a term may be used, but how a term is used. Does the New Testament primarily speak about salvation as being forgiven of your sins (and thus delivered from the wrath to come) or as healing from a disease? A quick survey of every usage of sōzō and related words shows that save, saved, and salvation are much more concerned with deliverance from sin and God’s coming wrath than physical or spiritual healing.[7]
6. See the entry for “sōzō” in BDAG.
7. Again, see the entry for “sōzō” in BDAG.
Because he views salvation as healing, Comer presents Jesus mainly as a great physician. In this, however, Comer overplays his hand. Jesus healing the sick certainly puts his power and authority on display. He is the God-man. His work to heal testifies that the coming kingdom, where there is no curse, has broken into this present age. Yet, even more than a healer, the New Testament presents Jesus as a savior who forgives sins. Those who believe are “saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned” (Mark 16:16). Salvation is set over-against condemnation in that text: it is salvation from condemnation. When Jesus is born, he is said to be the one who will “save his people from their sins” (Matt. 1:21). The Apostle Paul contrasts destruction with salvation (Phil. 1:28), and he explicitly writes, “For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Thess. 5:8).
This deliverance is necessary because of the coming wrath of God that sin deserves. So as John the Baptizer is preparing the way for Jesus, he declares to the Pharisees and Sadducees “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come” (Matt. 3:7; Luke 3:7). Paul writes that “Jesus . . . delivers us from the wrath to come” (1 Thess. 1:10). Of course, the context of sin, coming wrath, and the need for atonement helps us make sense of the Lamb of God language in the New Testament. When John the Baptist says, “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29), he ties Jesus to the Old Testament sacrificial system. All the shed blood in the old covenant system was meant to atone for the sins of God’s people and point towards the ultimate atoning work of the Messiah. Therefore, Comer pits the healing of the soul against the more central idea that sin is an offense against God that has incurred divine wrath. Biblically, Jesus is the one who bears that wrath in the place of ruined but repentant sinners in order to save them from God’s righteous anger, restore them to God their Father, for God’s eternal glory.
But perhaps the reason Comer isn’t keen to emphasize the cross as atonement for sin is that his discussion of sin is deficient. In the Bible, sin is described variously as lawlessness (1 John 3:4), rebellion (Isa. 1:2), cosmic treason (Rom. 1:18–32), and idolatry (Rom. 1:25). Yes, sin is a disease you’ve inherited, but it is a disease that has resulted in a sinful nature that leads you to reject your Creator and incur a record of debt (Col. 2:14). The wages of this sin is death (Rom 6:23) and the sinner is “by nature [a child] of wrath” (Eph. 2:4). Someone must die for this sin. That’s why Jesus coming as the “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” and dying a justice-satisfying, substitutionary death in our place is such good news! This type of language is either absent or marginalized by Comer. I cannot help but ask: for Comer, is it even necessary for Jesus to die on a cross as a propitiation for the sins of the world (cf. 1 John 2:2)?
In short, Comer mentions Jesus’s death, to be sure. But his discussion of sin is thin. There is no vertical dimension. There is little, if any, reference to the wrath of God, the justice of God, or Christ bearing our sins in our place (Isa. 53:5–6; Rom. 3:25; 2 Cor. 5:21). And this thin description of sin, it seems, leads Comer to downplay the New Testament focus on the cross as payment for sin. At times, he seems to acknowledge that Jesus saves sinners by paying their debt via a wrath-bearing substitution (see page 19 where Comer at least acknowledges Jesus dying for our sins is “biblical”). Yet, it does not appear that he considers it to be worth much ink.[8] This is not a mere oversight—it reveals a different theological framework, one that minimizes penal substitution. And to neglect penal substitution is to remove the very heart of the gospel.[9]
8.Per an August 2025 social media post, Comer “highly recommend[s]” Andrew Remington Rillera’s work, Lamb of the Free: Recovering the Varied Sacrificial Understandings of Jesus’s Death. In light of what he read, Comer approvingly says that this “seems to be the final biblical/exegetical knockout blow to [Penal Substitutionary Atonement].” For a defense of Penal Substitutionary Atonement, see Stephen Wellum, “Penal Substitution and Other Atonement Theories,” Christ Over All, April 7, 2023.
In short, what the New Testament makes central, Comer moves to the margins. If you’re going to “Practice the Way,” you should have a good grasp of sin and Jesus as Savior from sin. That is, if you’re going to prevent apprenticeship from morphing into some form of works-based righteousness (which, admittedly, Comer acknowledges he does not want), you better make the gospel clear when calling people to follow Christ.
The Absence of Repentance
One of the central and necessary doctrines in the Christian life is repentance. It is the message John the Baptist came preaching in the wilderness (Matt. 3:2) and it is the message Peter proclaimed to the ones who had crucified Jesus and asked how they might be saved (Acts 2:38). In terms of the latter, Peter looked at those who had committed the most egregious sin in the history of the world (i.e. the murder of the Son of God) and told them that in order to be saved, all they had to do was “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins” (Acts 2:38). Simply put, there is no ‘practicing the way’ if one neglects to turn from sin and place their faith in Jesus.
9. Within Christianity, penal substitutionary atonement is often viewed as the heart of the gospel because it maintains that Christ went to the cross to pay the penalty due to sin under God’s just wrath (Isa. 53:4–6, 10–12; 2 Cor. 5:21; Gal. 3:13; 1 Pet 2:24) in the place of sinners (thus, substitution). This satisfies the demands of divine justice while securing the full pardon and righteousness of the sinner by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. Without Jesus bearing the wrath of God in the place of sinners (i.e. as a substitute), there is no true removal of guilt, no satisfaction of justice, no payment for sin, no forgiveness, and thus no grounds for reconciliation with a holy God.
Yet, this central doctrine finds no significant discussion in Comer’s work. In fact, repentance/repent is mentioned a mere three times! In a book that begins with Mark 1:17, the call to “follow [Jesus],” the first step is missed. J. A. Medders notices this same problem. He writes, “In Practicing the Way . . . repentance is not featured in his discussion of spiritual formation/the Christian life. Confession is taught, but sadly, repentance is not.” This is especially problematic because a person may confess their sin, or acknowledge their shortcomings, and yet fail to consciously turn from such things. Confession, without repentance, is damning. As Jesus said, “I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish” (Luke 13:3, 5, emphasis added).
Here we have yet again no small doctrinal deficiency. There is no salvation (whether healing or forgiveness) without Spirit-wrought repentance from sin. There is no practicing the way of Jesus if you do not turn from your own way to turn to Jesus in faith. You are not saved by merely deciding to follow Jesus, the great teacher who has amazing breadth and depth of wisdom. You are saved from sin and reconciled to God when you turn from sin and believe in Christ, receiving him as Savior and Lord.
Jesus as Sage More than Savior
Comer presents Jesus primarily as the Teacher we follow, not the Savior who rescues us from divine wrath. Jesus as sage is maximized while Jesus as Savior is minimized. Again, it is not wrong in itself to say Jesus is a sage—Jesus is our Rabbi, our example, our guide. He is certainly wisdom personified (1 Cor. 1:24). But we are not saved simply by choosing Jesus as our “luminary of choice” (14).
Of course, Comer is careful to note that Jesus is more than a bright teacher: “to call Jesus a brilliant rabbi is not to say he was just a brilliant rabbi . . . Written above Jesus on the cross were the words ‘King of the Jews,’ not GURU” (6). Yet despite these acknowledgements, Comer’s focus on the brilliance of King Jesus’s wisdom eclipses the wonder that Jesus, King of the Universe, has died in the place of ruined sinners. For Comer, if you trust Jesus, this incomparable Sage, he’ll “lead you to the life you desire” (6). Comer uses John 14:6 to say that following Jesus “is how to get the with-God life he offers” (26). This with-God life is about “quality” (27). That is, this whole discussion of following Jesus, this great “luminary of choice,” seems to suggest that Jesus merely gives you a better version of this earthly life. The danger, again, is how subtle the danger is. It is certainly true that the way of Jesus is better than the way of the devil or the unregenerate world. And when we come to Jesus it is true that we are reconciled to God. In that sense, the highest good of the gospel is that we get God. We are adopted into his family. But we do not follow Jesus at the outset merely to get some form of “the good life” in this present age. In fact, following Jesus may not lead to a “good life” in the earthly sense since it might lead to persecution, pain, and perhaps death. No, we come to Jesus to be saved from sin, delivered from the wrath to come, and restored to our heavenly Father.
Getting on “the way” begins with maximizing Jesus as Savior, not sage.
The Way Forward
Practicing the Way is an engaging work, written in a pastorally sensitive tone, and it aims to be a practically helpful guide to Christian formation. Comer’s call to practice the spiritual disciplines and form habits around following Jesus is well received.
Yet, what Comer minimizes or misses in his book are massive problems. A vision of discipleship that lacks the gravity of sin, the necessity of penal substitution, and the majesty of Christ as Savior cannot ultimately sustain the Christian life. Formation must flow from redemption. Imitation must not forget that the formal cause of your justification is imputation. And spiritual practice must be anchored in the gospel of a crucified and risen Lord.
Without first being rescued by Jesus, we cannot imitate Him. Comer’s Jesus lacks the sharp edges of the biblical Christ who speaks of hell, demands repentance, and dies as a Lamb under judgment. The Jesus of Practicing the Way seems more like a wise spiritual mentor than the crucified and risen Lord who conquered sin, Satan, and death through substitutionary sacrifice. For all its strengths, without a deeper theological base, Practicing the Way may cause Jesus’s disciples to miss the way altogether.
