What does it mean to be a Christian?
While I write on a number of fields, my central interest is on early Christian theology. Since I am asking you to trust me, it is only proper that I explain to you why it is exactly I am so convicted.
To be blunt, there is nothing that can ever be as important as understanding faith in God. It follows naturally that those who feel convicted to pursue the message of Christ do so. But it is more than simply a feeling; it was Christ who commanded believers to tell the nations, and we are likewise told to “Always be prepared to give a defense to everyone who asks you the reason for the hope that is in you.”
In my view, this means that defending Christianity and telling others of God’s truth is a duty of being a Christian.
But this is only one such duty. It seems to me that the title “Christian” is adopted by many without grasping the severity and gravity of the word. We are taught that we achieve salvation by confession in Christ and the actions of God in his resurrection, glorification, and ascension, but this merely the first step onto a life transformed into lived obedience. Anyone who calls themselves a Christian must represent Christ to others, to do nothing that would disparage Christ or God in the eyes of non-believers. I dare to say that “Christians” who fail in these duties have done more harm to the faith than the most talented atheist, Muslim, or Jew who argues against it. Christianity has always been vulnerable to wolves from within, and it is no wonder that the failings of self-titled Christians contribute the most damage to the beauty and simplicity of Christian faith.
To be Christians means accepting those duties, of always representing Christ in all things: every thought, every deed, and every word. When we help others, we glorify Christ; when we say a kind word to a stranger, coworker, or friend, we glorify Christ. Charity, in all its forms, likewise promotes the beauty of Christian faith. It was not the sword, censorship, or coercion that spread Christianity across the globe, but grace and kindness in the midst of martyrdom and persecution. Kindness to someone in dire need has more often turned a heart to God than pamphlets in mailboxes or bold words from the pulpit.
While I am not one to banty about quotes from early church figures, there is one that resonates with me and, I think, communicates the severity of the word itself. On his way to being martyred at Rome, Ignatius of Antioch wrote to other Christians, asking them not to pray for his deliverance, but for strength, so that he would properly display Christianity both inwardly and outwardly. He framed it so that he would not only speak as a Christian, but truly be done, and that he may not merely be called a Christian, “but really be found to be one. For if I be truly found [a Christian], I may also be called one, and be then deemed faithful, when I shall no longer appear to the world.”
This is why I tremble to call myself a Christian, even though I very clearly fit the definition of such in Scripture. It is, in fact, the most important component of my life: it is the lens through which I view the world, and the framework that shapes my love and duty for family, friend, and stranger alike. It is why I feel ashamed when I am uncouth, why I abandoned personal social media, and avoid temptation generally.
Being a Christian is what has made me someone that others call good.
Yet it is terrifying. I am frail, as we all are, and prone to failure. I know that a Christian is different than Christianity itself; one is a title, the other an expression of lived obedience. If I fail, I may be the reason that someone derides the Lord or rejects faith.
This is why I take my faith so seriously. Christianity is not a title, but complete inward and outward transformation. It is a heavy and grave thing to call oneself a Christian. I do so, and I accept that it entails duties that override my own desires, wishes, inclinations, and nature. It brings with it more than hope of some magical spiritual-ethical transformation; it brings a personal responsibility that cannot be delegated elsewhere. At its core, it is a deeply independent and personal relationship with God.
To be Christian is more than a title earned by institutional attendance or practice. No one should call themselves one unless they live the inward and outward expectations as such, and these should come as a natural entailment of authentic confession. Too often people decide that they are a Christian because they go to a certain church, are affiliated with a certain group, pay their tithes, eat their crackers, or perform any other number of rituals.
It is amazing how many methods of defining a “Christian” have been invented while the one given to us in Scripture is neglected.
Much modern language emphasizes what God does for the believer—and Scripture certainly speaks of grace, mercy, and transformation—but the New Testament also places continual responsibility upon the disciple. We must deny ourselves, take up our cross, walk in the Spirit, put to death the deeds of the flesh, be holy, imitate Christ, examine yourselves, and work out our salvation with fear and trembling.
None of those can be delegated to an institution. A church can teach, encourage, correct, and discipline, but it cannot repent on your behalf, love God on your behalf, obey on your behalf, or cultivate the fruit of the Spirit on your behalf. Those are profoundly personal acts of faithfulness. No matter the denomination, sect, cult, or name, Christianity itself is defined by a personal covenant with God.
This gravity of responsibility is uncomfortable. This is why so many delegate it to an institution, to their priest, pastor, or doctrine. But it is what it means to call yourself a Christian.
Every moment, of every day. Every breath, thought, word, and act. To love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, over and above yourself and all else.
To me, this is what it means to be Christian. It is what Scripture teaches, what the Spirit convicts, and what God requires.
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