“What is a Christian?”

A ‘follower of Jesus’ is the standard response.

And it is true, but it is not true enough.

Let’s think about this for a minute. So I have this encounter with Jesus. Maybe at a camp of some kind. In the singing and the speaking he becomes so real. It is as if Jesus draws near. I respond to him. Sins are forgiven. Burdens lift. Hurts dissolve. It is emotional. It is like my life is washed by Jesus. And now there he is, up ahead of me, and I look to follow him. With his character, I aim to be like him. With his teaching, I aim to be obedient to him. Off we go. But then I find that bumps in the road slow me down. Doubts unsettle me. Sins stick to me. Christians hurt me. God disappoints me. But I grind it out because I am a follower of Jesus. I huff and puff to keep up, even as Jesus seems to disappear into the distance on the road ahead of me. He becomes remote. Giving up begins to make sense. A little voice whispers to me, echoing the LOTR, “Get off the road”.

It is a common story. It is a sad story. One of the sadnesses is that it fails to realise that there is more to being a Christian than following Jesus. Oh, yes there is. This issue has been simmering away for me for years. Then, when I saw that Sam Allberry’s One With My Lord had made some 2024 Book of the Year lists that I follow, I thought that ‘this is the moment’. For good measure, I also ordered Rory Shiner’s One Forever, written more than a decade ago, and I settled into some life-giving pre-dawn holiday reading.

As you can see from the sub-titles, both books focus on another definition of being a Christian. Yes, the Gospels do tend to work with ‘following Jesus’—but the rest of the New Testament works more with being ‘in Christ’. It is used 160x by Paul, all on his own. It is huge. Shiner notes how the phrase is “everywhere in Paul’s letters and almost nowhere in our churches” (Shiner, 11). Allberry’s reflection on the phrase is that it has provided “the single biggest blessing to me since my conversion” (Allberry, 158). That’s a big call. While ‘in Christ’ sounds simple, it is loaded—theologically loaded. “People write PhDs on it”, I remember DA Carson saying to us in class all those years ago. However this is meant to be a chatty blog, so let’s not veer off in that direction on this occasion.

It is the illustrations in these books that captivated me. So, let me try and win you over to this fuller understanding of what it means to be a Christian by flooding your imagination with illustrations of what it means to be “stuck to him” (Shiner, 32)—before concluding with a pastoral matter.

‘Stuck to him’? Yikes, I do believe that is our first illustration—but because my imagination travels, rather unhelpfully, to that sticky strip hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen, let’s move quickly on.

three from the bible

Both Shiner (33) and Allberry (15-21) linger here. It seems a good place to start.

A tree and its branches. This is the one Jesus uses in John 15. “When a branch is removed from its tree, it dies. It loses connection with its source of life” (Allberry, 16). When the branch remains connected—this is what being in Christ looks like.

A spouse in a marriage. This is one that Paul uses in Ephesians 5. The ‘one flesh’ union in a marriage is ‘a profound mystery’ that is a picture of the way it is with Christ and all those who are in Christ.

A body and its head. This is one Paul uses one chapter earlier, in Ephesians 4. “The head is not just the source of our life (as with the vine and branches); it shapes who we are and what we become. We are not just empowered by it but directed by it” (Allberry, 18).

“What? Two from Paul and zero from Peter? How typical. Peter living in Paul’s shadow—again :).” While it is disappointing that 1 Peter 2 didn’t make the cut—with his building fitting so alliteratively with ‘branches, brides, bodies’, for Pete’s sake—these biblical images highlight how being in Christ describes something “vital, organic, intimate” (Allberry, 20—quoting a chap called John Stott).

one from shiner

This one is so good, Allberry borrows it as well (13-14).

Shiner has us imagining that we are at an airport, about to board a plane for Perth (34-35). He asks the question, “What relationship do you need to have with that plane?” (34).

He goes through different options. Does it help to be under the plane, or to be inspired by the plane, watching in awe and admiration as it takes off, whispering to yourself, “One day I could do that too…” Maybe it is about following the plane, running after it, “as fast as your little legs will carry you” until you end up in Perth—eventually.

No, that all sounds like nonsense. It is nonsense. The key relationship is to be in the plane. Why? “Because by being in the plane, what happens to the plane will also happen to you” (34). Whether you reach Perth, or not, is related to whether the plane reaches Perth, or not. This is a bit like what it means to be in Christ. We are united to him. “We are in him, so that whatever is true of Jesus is also true of us” (35).

Shiner returns to the illustration a few pages later. This so good, so helpful pastorally.

Now imagine that there are two people on that plane. One is a businesswoman, a frequent flyer finding her seat via the airline’s lounge and never needing to lift her eyes during the security briefing. She has heard it all a gazillion times. The other is this elderly man taking his very first flight. He arrives early in order to watch the planes come and go. He is nervous. During the security briefing he is ‘all ears’, even taking notes, which he plans to review during the flight, just in case. The palms are sweaty. The heart is racing. He is ‘full of wonder and fear’, with the flight attendant frequently buzzed in order to come and reassure him that all is going well.

Do you see it? Shiner then asks two questions. “Who has more faith?” Clearly, it is the businesswoman, with her total trust in the plane and the pilots so evident. But then, a second question—“Who makes it to Perth?” It is both of them. Why?

Because the strong faith of the woman and the doubting faith of the man have very little to do with it. It has everything to do with the plane. At this point, the question is not, “Who believes more?” but “Where are you?” If you are in the plane, then the amount of faith you have in the plane has nothing to do with whether or not you make it to Perth.

Being in Christ is a very similar reality. The heart of the matter is not how much faith you have, but where your faith is (41).

Isn’t that so helpful? The hand-wringing happens, doesn’t it? It is common to moan about a weaker faith and the need to muster the effort to make it stronger. No wonder people get off the road! I’d get off the road too. That is not the way it works. Our faith can become so tentative, even tenuous—but that is never the issue, anymore than the old man’s sweaty palms contribute to the plane landing safely, or not.

seven from allberry

I hope you’ve got this far because I don’t want you to miss out on this book. I reached the end of it and felt my heart strangely strengthened for the year ahead. I’d love you to experience this as well.

Sure, the teaching is profound. But it is the quality of the illustrations that caused the teaching to land in my life. It is a bit like why I point students towards CS Lewis’ Mere Christianity and NT Wright’s For Everyone series. They are experts with everyday illustrations that appeal to everyone. Allberry has the same skill, but he garnishes it with a hint of Ajith Fernando. Not just the everyday, but the personal as well. I find it so empowering.

The illustrations flow as he meanders his way through his Table of Contents: Found in Christ; Blessed in Christ; Saved in Christ; Justified in Christ; New in Christ; Holy in Christ; Together in Christ; and Continuing in Christ.

You get the idea. Being ‘in Christ’ is such a big deal in the New Testament.

OK, let’s dabble in a few of his illustrations.

In Found in Christ, Allberry uses Shiner’s plane and the three Biblical ones. So we can move on.

In Blessed in Christ, he takes us to his Christmas stocking—still being used as an adult when at home—filled full with gifts. Some have changed over the years and some have not, like the nectarine at the very bottom. They represent all the ‘amazing gifts in the Christian life.’ But here is the point:

The fact is that our union with Christ is not one further item in our spiritual stocking—a discrete, separate gift we could almost miss, lying there at the very bottom. It is more like the actual stocking itself. It is through union with Christ that we receive all those other things. Without it, we receive none of them (24-25).

In Saved in Christ, he tells us how he doesn’t follow rugby at all, but takes us to the English rugby team during a World Cup. It isn’t “the English rugby team because it’s from England but because it represents England” (44). And however it goes for the team is then applied to the whole nation. If they win, then all of England exclaims, “We won”.

And it’s how it worked in the garden of Eden. Adam was our spiritual representative. What he did with the commands of God, he did representing all humanity. It makes no difference whether we believe in this or agreed to it, just as it makes no difference if I have any interest in rugby. Adam acted on behalf of the whole human race (44).

Before we were in Christ as Christians, we were not just drifting about unattached. We were in Adam—defined and shaped by what he did. And that is why we need saving (40) … Adam provides something of a template of what Christ would come to do (48).

In Justified in Christ, he takes us to his first weeks at university. We overhear all the chatter about where each person came from and the grades they received that earned them their place in a particular programme etc.

There will be no such conversations in heaven. No person will enter heaven on the basis of what he or she has done. All of us will enjoy the happy awareness that we are there only by the merits of Jesus … No one will care what grades I earned in high school or what kind of degree I got at university or how many friends I had or how much money I made or any of the other things we pin to ourselves as forms of validation.

… It wasn’t our wits, our spiritual awareness, our moral superiority, our religious accomplishments, our impeccable values, or our charitable endeavors. It was Jesus. There no other reason we’re here. All that we have, we have through him and by his grace (72).

In New in Christ, he takes us back to a visit to his old high school, having been invited to speak at assembly. It was all the same. The hall. The headmaster. The chairs. The smell. “The headmaster suddenly shouted, “Sit up straight” … “Instinctively, I corrected my posture and sat bolt upright” (87)—but then it hit him. That man was no longer his headmaster. He no longer had to do what he said.

It is the same with sin. For so many years, we were under its sway. We marched to its beat. We sinned at an instinctive, intuitive level. We didn’t really have to think about it. It came so naturally. But that has now changed. Sin no longer has authority over me. I’m not bound to it and am under no obligation to it. That doesn’t mean I don’t ever sin. But it does mean that every time I do, I don’t have to. I never have to sin. There is always an alternative (87-88).

… This is why union with Christ is so wonderfully empowering. Yes, that sin may well have been something that defined my life—maybe for many, many years. Perhaps it really was who I really was. But even if so, my union with Christ means it is no longer who I am. In Christ, I am now different. I have changed. I have been made new (88).

In Holy in Christ, he takes us to a story about a ‘cozy little cottage’ for sale, right by the sea. Such an idyllic spot, “but just outside the shot was a nuclear power station, obvious when the cottage was observed from literally any other angle” (108).

Temptation is just like that, offering something that seems initially good but failing to provide the wider picture of what else is involved—a tantalizing attraction dangled right in front of us so that we grab it without thinking but not showing us the deep shame that will soon result and the eventual death that all sin will drag us down into unless Christ intervenes (108-109).

Sin never delivers. We think we’re getting a quaint cottage by the sea, and we actually end up living next to a revolting power station (109).

In Together in Christ, he takes us to his family and how when he was born, “I became a son and a brother at the very same moment” (113). He couldn’t be without his parents or his older brother.

Something very similar happens with our union with Christ. Joining him means also being joined to others who are joined to him. We don’t get Christ without also getting his people (114).

In Continuing in Christ, he takes us back to John 15 and the Vine and all the remaining-abiding-continuing language in that chapter. “Branches that remain stay alive. The key is to stay connected, to abide” (138). And he offers a little sermon, with four headings, on how this happens: being pruned; being fruitful; being obedient, and being prayerful—before an illustration of how this all works together.

The Christian life is not like a buffet, in which you simply choose what to take and what to leave. It is more like an ecosystem, in which all the different elements depend on one another to be present and flourishing (150).

There you have it. A bunch of illustrations to help us engage with what it means to be in Christ. There are plenty more where they came from… I think it is NT Wright who refers to being in Christ as ‘the most revolutionary truth in the New Testament’—and unique as well. What other religion speaks of being united to the founder? And a bit like recharging our phones—ahh, there is one additional illustration from me, the one I’ve used over the years—his life flows into our lives, renewing us and giving us strength to stay on the road as we follow Jesus.

A second question

Over the years, asking “What is a Christian?” has often led to a second question.

“Why do so many young adults leave the church?”

I’d be surprised if there are too many people who reach this point in this post and, on seeing that question, don’t feel saddened, even heart-broken, by stories of young adults they know who have got off the road. It is a distressing—and persistent—pastoral issue. Please hear me treading carefully…

A whole industry has grown up around finding the answers. Enter that question into Google, as I have just done, and there is page upon page of analysis and answer. Out flow the surveys and the data. Articles are awash with phrases like Generation Z and Millennials—a little reminiscent of the attention given to Babyboomers and Generation X in previous generations. Yep, the question keeps coming up.

What happens is that the analysis tends to be solely sociological. Now, let me put my cards on the table here. On these matters I confess to being a kinda soft sceptic. I was taught to take care in this area. Afterall if the analysis is all sociological, it is just a small step to all the answers being sociological as well. And this is not helpful pastorally.

I read these articles, even the flow of books from David Kinnaman in the UnChristian series which was a focal point of my research all those years ago—and my conclusion is exactly the same as it was for our first question:

It is true, but it is not true enough.

Where is the biblical thinking on this question? The theological reflection? I hear the rush to exclaim, in response—”It’s over here!”. Okay, but then a further question: if it is over there, how is it there? Let’s consider a lens for a moment. And the difference between what we look through—our starting point, our assumptions, our first principles, our worldview—and what we look at. The “at” is where we focus, but it is always shaded and coloured by what we look through. As I read and listen, those answers are often ‘not true enough’ because these experts, again and again, are looking through the sociology, rather than through the theology. Sociology is the boss. Theology is the servant. But we need be looking through the theology at the sociology because those are the appropriate places for them to be found.

OK, so what can be done to turn back the perennial significance of this second question?

Well, what about a discipleship—nay, a catechesis—with young people that lingers with that phrase which is “everywhere in Paul’s letters and almost nowhere in our churches”? What about leaning into what one person refers to as “the single biggest blessing to me since my conversion”? What about letting ‘the most revolutionary truth in the New Testament’ have full access to their lives? What about helping young people see that it is getting in the plane that helps them to stay on the road?

Final Words

The Last Two Pages. Allberry’s final two pages work through a series of paragraphs, each with the same opening phrase—”Union with Christ”—and all in support of his ‘biggest blessing’ claim.

Union with Christ is what makes sense of the Christian life for me … Union with Christ has been the game changer in my pursuit of holiness … Union with Christ is what helps me look to the future without fear … Union with Christ has buttressed my assurance … But perhaps more than anything else, union with Christ has fulfilled the deepest longings of my heart (158-159).

The Last Two Paragraphs. I know when a book has touched me, really, truly. I read pieces of it aloud to Barby. And so it came to pass with One With My Lord.

Ever since I can remember, I have always longed for a deep friend to walk through life with, who would be there for me, whom I could even hide behind when I needed to. At times it has been an agonizing yearning. In my teenage years, a painful season of being bullied poured gasoline all over it, and I began to experience this longing as a debilitating anxiety. Who would be there to stand by me? What friend could ever be enough for me? Our souls are too heavy for any one of our friends to carry. Even the best human relationships can’t be all that we need. But one has come who truly is all we need—a friend who is able to say, “I am with you always”, without any hint of hyperbole. Being one with us, how could he not be? More than that, he embodies every perfection we most long for and need in a friend, and we can literally envelop ourselves in him, hide ourselves in him, console ourselves in him. We will never be too much for him, and he will never not be enough for us. What my heart has longed for all my life—in goofy ways, in sinful ways, in harmful ways, in confused ways—is all truly present in Jesus. We have it all when we have him because he not only has it all but is all in all.

So whatever else might be true of me in this world, whatever else I might one day find myself to be in—in love, in debt, or (like Paul) in prison—nothing can take away from the surest reality: being in Christ (159-160).

nice chatting

Paul