The Witch Trials of John Mark Comer

Defending Gen Z's Billy Graham

Intro to Comerism

I’ve never met John Mark Comer, but he might’ve saved my life.

About five years into my decision to start following Jesus, I reached a point where I was trying to decide my way out of it.

Myriad reasons poured into this. I’d just lost a job, suffered a permanent injury, and had to move away from community. I’d started drinking again, way too much. I was on the fence about whether all the sensations I’d felt in the past half decade of church attendance were real or placebo.

Then a friend sent me a sermon. The speaker sounded more suited for a TedTalk than a pulpit. But something about the way he communicated kept me zoned in. Even though he was a pastor, he talked like he lived in the real world. Not only did he admit to struggling with doubt and apathy and even phone addiction, but he actually offered practical solutions rather than vague just-trust-God’s-grace-type platitudes. He quoted more theologians and Bible scholars than I’d ever heard anyone quote in a 45-minute talk. A composite portrait of what life with Jesus could look like in the 21^st century started forming in my mind. It didn’t have to just be tolerable—it could also be beautiful. For the next few years, his talks lived rent free in my AirPods during all drives, jogs, and chores.

It’s not an exaggeration to say John Mark Comer reeled me right back into orthodox Christianity right when I was on the way out.

For those who aren’t familiar, Comer started out pastoring a Portland church called Solid Rock, which eventually became Bridgetown. He pastored there from the ages of 23-40, publishing multiple bestselling books during the last stretch. In 2021, he and his staff team felt that the Spirit was releasing him from his position so that he could start Practicing the Way, a nonprofit designed to help local churches integrate ancient spiritual practices into their communities.

Fast forward to now, and Comer is a household name. His books have probably sold somewhere in the ballpark of 9-15 million copies. You can even find them hanging around most airports (even uncultured ones, like Kalamazoo’s).

But as his fame has increased, so have his critics. Piles of think pieces and reviews now skeptically examine his work – and him. In fact, on Substack specifically, it feels like a new Comer criticism comes out weekly.

They fall across a wide spectrum.

A few pose interesting points I’d imagine even Comer himself would find helpful. There’s one from

Myles Werntz

looks at how Comer’s “Rule of Life” may lead to an underemphasis on the need for church community, and another from

Samuel D. James

that discusses Comer’s conversational writing style.

Many examine Comer’s theology. Some worry he’s “anti-grace” because he places too much emphasis on the spiritual disciplines. Others warn that Comer’s vision of God doesn’t align with a Calvinist or strictly Reformed ontology.¹ There’s also concern about how Comer believes and lives as if the Holy Spirit and spiritual gifts are still active.² Still others call him a gnostic – which is a criticism I’m not going to discuss here since

John Anders

pretty much nailed it.

However, there’s a lower echelon of JMC articles that I find neither interesting nor accurate – many of which build their entire narrative around uncharitable interpretations of niche sound bites.

My concern with these articles is that they’re not arguing for what we might call first rank doctrine (doctrine that has to do with fundamental principles of Christian orthodoxy, such as Trinitarian theology or soteriology). Most aim at stuff that would fall on the third or fourth rank (debates that are relevant but not worth dividing over, such as opinions about the millennium of Revelation 20).³

While I don’t have much interest in addressing third or fourth rank complaints, I am interested in addressing major misinterpretations of Comer’s theology – and him.⁴

Visual commemoration of the great Comer book burnings by the Puritans circa 1692-1693. Despite the books’ pleadings, the honorable Cotton Mather still accused them of Gnosticism on the grounds of a “hunch.”

Also, for transparency’s sake, I’m writing this primarily because I don’t like all this Comer-bashing. While I’d love to tell you I wrote this for some lofty righteous reason, I don’t know if I did; but I do know that I feel offended on behalf of a teacher who’s had a life-giving impact on my friends and family.

Now’s a good a time as any for a thesis: (1) Comer is an orthodox and dynamic voice for this present cultural moment and (2) we should extend more charity toward him.

Before we get to that, some

caveats:

First, I don’t really know Comer. But I do know two people who know him and work with him in a consistent capacity. So some of my vouching for his character comes from their vouching.

Also, I’m personally aware — and think many Comer fans might benefit from becoming more aware — of the danger of thinking of Comer as a parasocial pastor.⁵ It’s unhealthy to treat anyone we don’t know face-to-face as a stand in for an embodied spiritual mentor. This is why, despite that I agree with most of what he has to say, I don’t want to place Comer on a pedestal – and certainly don’t want to give him more respect than local pastors and teachers that I live in relationship with.

Second, only a small segment of my knowledge about Comer comes from his books. I’ve read all his books and enjoyed them, but the bulk of the Comer-related content I’ve consumed comes from This Cultural Moment (which I think I’ve listened to 8x by now) and his teachings at Bridgetown church, dating approximately from where the Bridgetown archives start in 2011 up until Comer’s departure from Bridgetown in 2021. After that period, I would say I’ve consumed roughly 80% of the content he’s put together through both Art of Teaching and Practicing the Way, which consists of teaching seminars, podcasts, and workbooks.

Okay, on to the

first point:

Now, I know this is going to sound ridiculously simplistic, but I’m legitimately convinced that most of the issues I’ve seen raised by Comer critics would be mitigated (if not entirely resolved) if they dug past his popular-level books and went deeper into his teachings.⁶

Here’s what I mean:

In Brad East’s review of the Practicing the Way (which I would rank in the tippy-top of quality takes on Comer’s work), he wrote that he wished Comer would’ve discussed the Eucharist.

While I agree the book could’ve benefited from more discussion on the sacraments and the Eucharist, I’m also convinced that this is the fault of popular-level writing than a fault in Comer’s theology.

Comer isn’t doing academic work. His books fall in the pop-level genre – the kind that’s accessible regardless of education level. As a product of this genre, it’s impossible to touch on every aspect of ecclesial or ecumenical processes. So even though sacraments discussion would’ve been nice, it might not’ve been possible.

And maybe some of you are thinking, “Yeah but the Eucharist is such a basic point – he should’ve touched on that.”

Unfortunately, from my minor experience in pop-level Christian publishing, “Eucharist” is a term an editor would love to cut. It might seem silly, but lots of evangelicals don’t like it, because many don’t know what it means, and because it doesn’t sound like “communion.” Feel how you’d like to feel about that last statement, but it’s accurate; and publishing companies rarely want to alienate key demographics.

On top of that, there are intense word count pressures. Comer’s books already clock in around the 250-to-300-page count. Pop-level publishers don’t love it when you go beyond that. There’s no way to tell that if he were granted an extra 30 pages he’d cover sacraments. But he might’ve. For those who followed Comer’s Bridgetown years, you’d know that he was as adamant (I personally think more adamant) about sharing the weekly Eucharist at small groups as any pastor I know of. The Eucharist isn’t an after-thought in Comer’s theology.

In the beginning of C.S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity, Lewis said he wasn’t going to touch on all aspects of orthodoxy – especially any aspects that might cater toward one denomination over another. Even though Practicing the Way didn’t start with that kind of disclaimer, the same general principle applies: we cannot cover every topic that’s important to ecclesial/denominational life in the 40,000-60,000-word count.

I’m an advocate for having generosity toward authors in the pop-level genre. They’re working with countless limitations and boundaries that you and I can’t see.

The Eucharist is just one example of this; but the same logic applies for doctrine of grace, justification, ontology, etcetera. These are all crucial to the Christian faith, but Practicing the Way isn’t an Intro to Christianity textbook and shouldn’t be scrutinized by the same standards.

It’s a lot to dig through, but I know many Comer supporters who would say the same: go deeper into his sermons before putting all his work in a box and labeling it.

T.H. Matteson’s portrait of a woman scorned for enjoying Practicing the Way, imploring honorable Cotton Mather to read deeper into Comer’s bibliography before rendering his verdict.

Others get skeptical simply because

Comer is famous

You probably thought “dumb” right as you read that heading. But even though you’re right — it does seem dumb — it’s realistic. Comer has a platform. He’s well-received by a surprising number of people. The Gen Z’s in your church probably read his books voraciously – or as one of my peer-reviewers noted, it’s the only thing Gen Z’s in his church read.

It should go without saying, but just because someone is well-liked does not mean they’re bad. I’m a big a fan of Pitchfork as anyone, but I’ve had to train myself to remember that just because an artist gets big doesn’t mean they’ve sold out. I’ve seen Christians treat pastors like indie bands – liking them when they’re underground and assuming they’re has-beens when they attract crowds.⁷

But in a milieu where hundreds of thousands of people are shown Instagram reels of celebrity pastors espousing horrid antinomian (“cheap grace”⁸) theology, I find it concerning that people are so ready to lump Comer into the same blob of celebrity pastors when his teachings are almost diametrically opposed to their prosperity-gospel-esque teachings.

Comer is famous, but he doesn’t seem to abuse this power. He’s made a lot (a lot) of money off his books (especially Ruthless Elimination), but he’s not pulling up to events in a Rolls Royce or ending up on @preachersnsneakers. He even does his annual budget with his community to ensure his money is used well.

One of the first sections I built out for my dissertation was on the concept of fame and celebrity. In all my research, I kept coming back to the same point: fame is uniquely corrupting. There are few drugs that seem as powerful or difficult to shake.⁹

Yet Comer doesn’t seem all that different than he did in 2011 — aside from seeming to grow in maturity. I realize this might seem like a low-bar, but in actuality, maybe avoiding the malformation of fame is something we should applaud.

It’s easy to assume the rich and successful have lost their way; it’s a bit harder to trust they haven’t.

Next,

Comer is too philosophical/heady

Some of you might’ve rolled your eyes when you saw that. If Comer is too philosophical, then the majority of Christian writers are too philosophical.

Comer loves to quote philosophers and academic studies. But it’s never too esoteric that it loses its practical application. In fact, the level that he communicates is perfect for people who might be interested in deeper aspects of the faith but confused on where to start. Also, as Professor Ross Inman argues, philosophical thinking has always been woven into the Christian tradition.¹⁰ Intellectual training was just like any other kind of soul training or self-mastery involved in discipleship.

Christianity is philosophical. It’s intertwined with a longing and love (philo-) for wisdom (-sophia). It’s not solely about philosophizing, but we can’t easily separate the Christian faith from philosophical thinking.

Not everyone is called to be the next Aristotle, but we’re called to use whichever brain God gave us. As Lewis wrote, “God is no fonder of intellectual slackers than he is of any other kind of slacker.”¹¹

Now, what to do when

Comer quotes people I don’t like

Many Protestants don’t like that Comer quotes a lot of Eastern Orthodox theologians, questionable mystics, and a few names who many Christians consider heretics.

But importantly, Comer never recommends that we read their works or submit to their authority. In fact, the Eastern theologian he’s discussed most is Evagrius of Pontus; but rather than telling readers to buy his book, he tells readers to sit with God and draft their own version of Evagrius’ manual.

Also, and I wish this went without saying, but just because someone quotes someone does not mean that that person endorses every inch of what that person says. Do we criticize Tim Keller, Dallas Willard, or Renè Girard for quoting Nietzsche or Foucault (two figures who are as anti-Christian as they come)? Should we stop reading Clement of Rome because he quoted from pagan thinkers almost as much as he quoted scripture?

Quoting isn’t an endorsement of everything a person says or does; for the most part, a quote is just a quote. It’s best to avoid letting our imaginations fill in anything beyond that.

But I think this issue is exacerbated by the concern that

Comer is anti-grace

This might be the biggest criticism I’ve seen. It assumes that Comer is advocating for a works-based form of righteousness. There’s a quote on page 136 of Practicing the Way that’s fueled some concern in this area:

“And through apprenticeship to Jesus, we can enter into this kingdom and into the inner life of God himself.”

Yet this is another example of something that seems like a red flag if you only read Comer’s books, but a beige flag if you follow his teachings. His theology of the kingdom is very different from your average reformer’s.

While the average Western evangelical hears “enter into His kingdom” and thinks “salvation” or “justification,” this phrase doesn’t necessarily imply either.

In Comer’s thought (which he borrows from mostly Dallas Willard with a pinch of N.T. Wright) entering into His kingdom simply implies that one is entering into the “range of God’s effective will” (or “where what God wants done is done”).¹²

The kingdom is a reality that is accessed and entered now, not postmortem. So in Comer’s thinking, it doesn’t necessarily carry life-after-death implications.

Take this quote from under the heading “But what are we saved to?” in the book’s first section:

In Jesus’ gospel, the call to become an apprentice makes perfect sense. If the kingdom of God is “near” but is not a kingdom with borders and passports—in fact, it’s been “hidden … from the wise and learned”—then it makes sense that we’d need some serious training in how to access this extraordinary new society and enter the inner life of God that’s been made available to us through Jesus. We’d need access to a new power to break off our old life habits (that belong to the kingdom of this world) and become who we were always meant to be: people of the new kingdom.

Comer is essentially saying that “life to the full” (John 10:10) or sanctification is accessed through following Jesus’ “way” in the here and now. In this sense, Comer’s page 136 quote might just be another way of describing the truth behind a verse like Matthew 11:28-29: that when we take on the yoke or lifestyle of Jesus, we will truly experience reality as if the burden is truly light.¹³

In Comer’s thought, we don’t do works to gain salvation; we do works because of salvation – and because there’s not much else better to do with our time and energy. Or, to quote the Willard quote Comer quotes all over the place: “Grace is not opposed to effort; it is opposed to earning.”¹⁴

I’ve heard Comer discuss Glen Stassen’s Kingdom Ethics affectionately, so I assume that he’s at least in part inspired by that book as well. Stassen argues that our participation in the kingdom is “not about what God does while humans stand by passively; nor is it about our effort to build the kingdom while God passively watches.”¹⁵ Our kingdom-related actions are both “performative and participative,”¹⁶ in that we often witness what the Spirit is performing while actively participating in His movements.¹⁷ In this sense, the message of and entrance into the kingdom is cooperative.

However, as theologian Oliver O’Donovan points out, even though we should consider the cooperation between God and man as mutual, this doesn’t imply that there’s an equality in the amount of power each partner brings to the table.¹⁸ It’s as if God is always doing the heavy lifting and we’re just obediently following His direction, exerting effort at the right places and times. So even though God and humans work as partners, the bulk of effort in every act is coming from the Trinity.¹⁹ Comer even uses a similar analogy when describing how God meets us in the disciplines.

And yes, it’s true that Comer didn’t talk much about grace in the past few books. But do you know who else didn’t talk about grace? Jesus. Even further, in the (roughly) five sermons within the New Testament itself – two from Peter (Acts. 2:16-39; 3:11-26), one from Stephen (Acts 7:1-53), and two from Paul (Acts 13:16-41; 17:22-31) – none discuss grace.²⁰

But Paul writes about grace – a lot. And perhaps this is because there wasn’t enough emphasis on it elsewhere and he needed to lay it out in a systematic fashion. Similarly, when the Reformers thought the Church of England had disregarded a true understanding of grace, they reacted by revolutionizing the concept of grace for all.²¹ Thanks to their influence, you can scarcely walk into an evangelical church without hearing that we’ve been saved by grace, not by works.

Yet because of this emphasis, many developed an allergy to works. In some places, the pendulum swung so far to the other end of the spectrum that many behave as though active engagement in spiritual disciplines, justice, or good works is just “striving.”²²

So, framed this way, is Comer anti-grace, or is he just responding the off-kilter pendulum?

Also and in general, I personally think we should allocate more skepticism toward those who go wild lengths to criticize “works.” Jesus said that we should let our light shine so that our good works will draw others to give God glory (Matt. 5:16); Paul said that we were created in Christ to do good works (Eph. 2:10); and James said faith without works in dead (Jas. 2:14-26). So I always find it a bit off when someone wants to slug a pastor for suggesting that Christians should respond to the gift of God’s grace.²³ We can scream “We’re not saved by works” until we’re blue in the face but that doesn’t change the fact that good works create light in darkness.

Comer has also been vocally critical of “one-sentence summaries” of the Gospel. He argues that the four documents that begin the NT do not say “This is the Gospel according to Matthew: you are saved by grace and not through works.” Rather, they start in opaque ways (a long genealogy, an address to Theophilus, etcetera) and then tell the full story of Jesus. Taken literally, “gospel” can’t really be abbreviated to a one-sentence summary: it is the entirety of Jesus’ life, the Word made flesh, the God who became man who became king in the most unexpected way, who died and who rose and who ascended to the right hand of the Father. So when he talks “gospel,” he doesn’t want to oversimplify it or only discuss the salvation; he tries to discuss and invite everyone into all of it.

Next,

Comer wants to life hack everyone into becoming monastic hippie spa guru fairies

Yeah, I didn’t have a solid category to group this complaint under, but I’ve heard a ton of them. Typically it takes the form of someone hearing Comer recommend silence & solitude, slowing down the pace of life, or quoting Rob Bell in his endnotes and then assuming he’s a new-age guru more concerned with self-help than the kingdom of God.²⁴

This, as I think most anyone who’s actually engaged with Comer’s content, couldn’t be further from the truth.

About a year ago, my mentor asked me about Comer because one of his other mentees was getting into his stuff. I gave the affirmative, “Ahoy hoy, let the masts sail!” (which is how I talk, for those who haven’t met me in person).

My mentor, having grown up in the golden era of Mark Driscoll scream-sermons, came back a few weeks later and said, “You know, I’ve heard lots of people criticize Comer for being soft. But if you actually take the content of what Comer’s saying and put it next to almost every Driscoll sermon, you’d notice that what Comer is saying is usually more intense.”

He was so right that I’m still trying to get over just how right he was. Because of the way Comer talks (which is uncharacteristically calm for a pastor), people assume he’s soft – both as a person and in his theology.²⁵ But this is a wild claim, since the majority of what he’s saying – grace isn’t cheap, get active, join intentional community, observe Sabbath, confess sin, fast, take up your cross and deny yourself daily – is super intense.

Also, the disciplines aren’t a life hack – and Comer’s gone preposterous lengths to emphasize this.²⁶ He stresses it to the point of redundancy: disciplines undertaken for self-help rather than intentional engagement with God fall flat.

For anyone who’s still unconvinced: I invite you to do 12 hours of silence and solitude with no phones, media, or books. See how self-helpish it feels. It’s not easy. It’s incredibly rewarding and pruning, but it is by no means the kind of activity you’d categorize as a “life hack.” There’s a reason Willard called it the most challenging spiritual discipline.²⁷

Along the same lines, some worry that

Comer is anti-community

because his work gives twentysomethings a license to create their own personal spiritual paradigms. It’s a fear he’ll cause young people recede from the local church and fall into a hyper-individualist spirituality.

Now, this fear isn’t unrealistic. I’ve seen it happen.

Yet, even though it’s valid, I would also point out that this is one of the most fundamental pillars of Comer’s teaching. In fact, if you go back into the Bridgetown archives and find his teaching series on Ruthless Elimination, Live No Lies, and the OG Practicing the Way series), you’ll find that all of these teachings which eventually became books were originally held within the confines of a local church community – with frequent mentions of the necessity of practicing these things together as a unified body.

In fact, maybe Comer’s conversational writing style is the reason the community aspects feel muted in some of his writings. He’s translating communal teachings into an intimate conversation with a singular reader, and the switch in mediums might mute the group-ishness of it all.

Further, the Practicing the Way non-profit is built around offering materials and coursework designed to be used within community. The content is redundant if you’re by yourself. Their only DIY option is their roundtable podcast discussions.

And as of the giving statement I received, Practicing the Way’s materials have been used across 17,307 different groups around the world.

That’s more groups than I’ve started. That’s a lot of intentional community.

All to say, Comer is extremely pro-community, extremely pro-local-church. His only skepticism seems to come from his concern that the popular evangelical church paradigms aren’t meeting the needs of the body of Christ in a transformative way. I tend to agree.²⁸

ok last one srry

Also, some dislike that

Comer isn’t a theologian

Comer’s not technically a theologian, but I call him a “gateway theologian.”

For example, Ruthless Elimination was the first place I ever heard “Dallas Willard,” which I honestly thought was some organization related to the Texan city. I then bought Renovation of the Heart and got hooked and read the rest of his bibliography over the next year. This same process repeated with the likes of N.T. Wright, Walter Brueggemann, Scot McKnight, Ignatius of Loyola, Carl Trueman, Gerald Sittser, John Walton, Eugene Peterson, Rod Dreher, Thomas à Kempis, Nancey Pearcey, Michael Heiser, Jürgen Moltmann, Irenaeus, Tozer, Augustine, Keller, Bonhoeffer, Rolheiser, and plenty others.

Comer never says, “Come to me, for I am the best of the theologians.” Rather, I’ve always seen him as someone who collects the best of the best information, boils it down, and then offers all readers a generous endnote section to help them go deeper.

It’s not for everyone, but neither are you or I

I don’t know if Practicing the Way is for every Christian. It’s why I don’t recommend it to everyone. Maybe it’s catered to specific personalities from specific denominations within specific milieus. And I’m totally fine with that, and I hope that you’d be fine with that too.

Practicing the Way, along with Dallas Willard’s body of work, offer one of the few paradigms for Christian living that I’ve found satisfying. In terms of practically ordering my day and walking in step with the Spirit, I haven’t come across many superior resources.

Maybe some people live thriving spiritual lives through going to church on Sundays, tithing, and reading Scripture every now and then. I personally don’t. If I don’t actively attempt to go deeper within other areas of life, I feel myself drift.

Also, I’ve seen a few reviews that warn readers that if they start listening to Comer’s advice, they’ll never be the same and that “the whole of their life will need to become different.”²⁹ That’s a huge leap.

Everyone is just as capable to pick-and-choose from Comer’s advice as they would from any other teacher. Sure, Comer invites people into more embodied practices than the average teacher, but to say you can chew the meat and spit out the bones for most teachers but not Comer is both odd and unrealistic.

Final thoughts

I’m presently trying to beat cynicism. I used to be the kind of person who wanted to tear everything down without offering anything substantial to replace it — and I would sure love to not be that anymore.

I once read about a recurring issue among tax accountants; they spent 8-14 hours a day scanning for mistakes, and once they got off work, they didn’t know how to shut off the mistake-detection part of their brains. Sadly, the very skill that made them so good at auditing was straining their social life. Every A on their kids’ report cards were invisible because they could only see the B’s. During performance reviews, they only noticed what was wrong in an employee and never what was right. One even drafted an excel spreadsheet listing all the mistakes his wife made over the past month (and somehow, they stayed married).³⁰

Same thing happens with film critics, social workers, and lawyers who spend their days looking for problems or inconsistencies. One study found that lawyers are 3.6 times more likely to suffer from major depressive disorders than the average employed population.³¹

My undergrad was a mix of pre-law, political science, and philosophy. I was basically training to devil’s-advocate every little thing. And a lot of it was miserable. Just after graduation, some friends pointed this out to me. We’d just spent the summer working together and they noticed how I could always identify the problems in every circumstance. But they warned me that if all I was doing was finding what was wrong and not replacing it with what was right, then I was really only generating more wrong.

It's some of the best advice I’ve ever received. And so I’ve been retraining myself to see good in places that I used to see only bad.

Which has been surprisingly hard. Cynicism is just the genetics of our culture right now. We critique without offering a better alternative to remold whatever shattered pieces we leave behind. Especially if you’re the kind of writer who comments on cultural trends, it’s genuinely hard to not write cynically — it’s like a defense mechanism against looking naive.

But as Abraham Maslow famously said, “If the only tool you have is a hammer, it is tempting to treat everything as if it were a nail.”³² When all you do is deconstruct, dissect, look for problems, it’s hard to do anything but. Fighting for sincerity, encouragement, or simply the ability to disagree with someone without needing to demolish them is one of the most countercultural pursuits we can move toward. But it’s both worth it and necessary.

I don’t want to get so caught up in Comer’s less flattering sound bites that I miss the good. Is his theology perfect? I don’t know. You’d probably wanna touch up some stuff here or there if you’re a strict reformed Calvinist or a “cheap grace” antinomian. But generally speaking, it isn’t “bad” – and it certainly isn’t heresy.

Of course, we’re going to judge teachers more harshly than others (James 3:1), especially when they have a sizeable platform. But if we held the average Christian to the standard many hold Comer to, who’d be left standing? Ourselves and two or three others?

And even if you don’t think his theology or models of discipleship are perfect, could you really say that yours are? Are mine?

They’re realistically not. I’m doing my PhD in theology and everyday I’m stunned by how little I really know in light of how much I’ve read. Theology is endless, hence its prefix. Our understanding of it should always be in a refining flux. Ecclesia reformata semper reformanda.

Comer peer-reviews all of his sermons through multiple academics, pastors, and thoughtful Christians. He invites more people to critique his average sermon than most academic journals invite peer-reviewers to evaluate their articles.³³ That’s more than can be said of most writers/teachers. I admire that.

So rather than demanding perfection or that Comer adjust himself to where I stand on second, third, and fourth rank issues, I’d rather just affirm what he’s doing without insisting that he become exactly like me. I trust that he, like most followers of Jesus I know, is on a hunt for truth.

To end, I want to follow Brad East’s recommendation. If someone says they’ve read a John Mark Comer book, I think the best response is simple: “Why not try another?”

A special thanks to the champs & heroes who helped peer-review this article, including but not limited to,

Ian Harber

,

Ross Byrd

,

Scott Misar

,

Mallory Garrison

,

Young Woong Yi

,

Marisa Christine

, and

Jake Moertl

. So if you have any issues with this post, please know it is their fault entirely.

Further reading: Check out this and this from Ian Harber.

Also: I ultimately decided not to tag any of the Comer articles I disagreed with. However, if anyone has specific questions about this or that, I’m happy to oblige

1. This also comes along with the concern that Comer is an open theist. I don’t believe that he is, and to say that he is would require significant logical jumps or hasty generalizations to arrive at that conclusion.

2. * clutches pearls !*

3. The best resource I’ve found for navigating the nuances of disagreeing about different ranks of doctrine is found in Gavin Ortlund, Finding the Right Hills to Die On: The Case for Theological Triage (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2020).

4. One notable exception to this general trend is this article from

Wyatt Graham

. Even though I disagree with his conclusions and believe he made several leaps in logical interpretation in order to arrive at his conclusions, I respect and admire the level of thought and research he placed into the piece and thus want to make sure that his piece is not delineated into the “lower echelon” of Comer criticisms. Also, I found

JD Spainhour

’s article kind, level-headed, and fair.

5. “Parasocial” is a term derived from the phrase “parasocial relationships,” which is the phenomenon in which fans take on the “illusion of being connected” with their heroes, going so far as to consider figures of interest genuine, intimate friends known on a personal basis simply because they have access to them via stages, screens, radios, social media, or podcasts. See Donald Horton & Richard Wohl, “Mass Communication and Parasocial Interaction: Observations on Intimacy at a Distance,” Psychiatry 19 no. 3 (1956): 215-219; Chris Rojek, Presumed Intimacy: Parasocial Interaction in Media, Society and Celebrity Culture, (Cambridge, UK: Polity, 1^st edn, 2016), 5; Nick Couldry & José van Dijck, “Researching Social Media as If the Social Mattered,” Social Media and Society 1 no. 2 (2015): 1-7.

6. For those who are unfamiliar and want a place to start, I personally think the best and most comprehensive overview of Comer’s orthodoxy and orthopraxy is found in his “Future Church” series from 2021, which he at one point called the capstone series from his time head pastoring Bridgetown.

7. We can even see this critical theory mindset laden in the Kierkegaard quote, “The more crowds, the less truth.”

8. Cheap grace is the kind of grace people accept without committing to repentance, sacrifice, or transformation. See Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship, trans. R.H. Fuller (New York: Touchstone, 1995), 43.

9. I wrote about this specifically in Griffin Gooch, “On Mitigating Celebritistic Culture in Western Ecclesial Contexts,” Ecclesiology 20 no. 1 (2024): 15-33.

10. Ross D. Inman, Christian Philosophy as a Way of Life (Grand Rapids, Mi: Baker Academic, 2023), Chapters 1-3.

11. C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: HarperOne, 2001), 65.

12. For the most comprehensive and detailed depiction of this kingdom theology, see the first four chapters of Dallas Willard’s Divine Conspiracy.

13. See Dallas Willard’s chapter called “The Secret of the Easy Yoke,” in his The Spirit of the Disciplines.

14. Dallas Willard, The Great Omission: Reclaiming Jesus's Essential Teachings on Discipleship (San Francisco, CA: HarperOne, 2001), 61.

15. David Gushee & Glen Stassen, Kingdom Ethics (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2013), 12-13.

16. Gushee, Stassen, Kingdom Ethics, 13.

17. Bruce Chilton & J. I. H. MacDonald, Jesus and the Ethics of the Kingdom (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1987), 24, 53, 73.

18. Oliver O’ Donovan, The Disappearance of Ethics: The Gifford Lectures (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2024), 131.

19. In O’Donovan’s words, “The Creator acts and the creature acts, though with unequal initiative; they are aligned in pursuit of purposes that are common to both, though with unequal clarity of conception.” O’ Donovan, The Disappearance of Ethics, 132.

20. However, the book of Hebrews, which many believe to be a sermon, contains six mentions of grace.

21. Need to add a note here for the nerds up on the recent movements of scholarship. It’s now generally agreed that the reformers likely fudged up the understanding of grace a bit. Ever since the release of John Barclay’s “Paul and the Gift” monograph, there’s been a serious reinterpretation of the concept of charis Paul’s theology, reenvisioning it as a gift exchange within the popularly understood patronage system in the first century. As such, the “no strings attached” conception of grace has been scrutinized widely. For more info, see Barclay’s Paul and the Gift, David deSilva’s Honor, Patronage, Kinship, and Purity, or, for a fun reader friendly version, Misinterpreting Scripture with Western Eyes.

22. See Bonhoeffer’s discussion of cheap grace in Discipleship.

23. And after all, repentance is technically a response; as is the reception of the good news. I firmly reject doctrine that tries to combine works with soteriology, but I simultaneously find depressingly few explanations of a anti-works practical theology that are logically consistent.

24. I thought I’d get to mention the Rob Bell thing later on in the article, but I didn’t get the chance. Anyway, Comer admires Bell’s teaching style, but doesn’t affirm his theology. There you have it. Need proof? Here.

25. btw, he’s mentioned that he used to be a tough yeller, but slowly transitioned into calm speech because he realized that the needs of his people did not revolve around getting screamed at; most of them were extremely anxious, so he tried to speak in a way that wouldn’t invite anxiety.

26. For my academic work on the disciplines, see Griffin Gooch, “Building a Universalized Theory for Spiritual Disciplines: Beyond Denomination, Personality, and Socio-Historical Experience,” Journal of Spiritual Formation and Soul Care 17 no. 2 (2024): 397-415. Also, friend of the show

Mason King

wrote a book on this very subject you may do yourself well by checking out.

27. Willard mentions this in his preface to Ruth Haley Barton’s An Invitation to Solitude and Silence.

28. However,

Noah Senthil

offered an excellent point about how Comer’s effect may be less anti-community than anti institutional/ecclesial. Check out his article here.

29. Jake Meador offers a wonderful address to this criticism here.

30. See Shawn Achor, The Happiness Advantage: How a Positive Brain Fuels Success in Work and Life (New York: Currency, 2010), 92.

31. W. W. Eaton, et al., “Occupations and the Prevalence of Major Depressive Disorder,” Journal of Occupational Medicine 32 no. 11 (1997): 1079-1087; G. Andrew H. Benjamin, Alfred Kaszniak, Bruce Sales & Stephen B. Shanfield, “The Role of Legal Education in Producing Psychological Distress among Law Students and Lawyers,” American Bar Foundation Research Journal 11 no. 2 (1986): 225-252.

32. Abraham H. Maslow, The Psychology of Science: A Reconnaissance (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), 15.

33. According to Comer’s segment titled “Feedback” on his part of the Art of Teaching online recordings, Comer sends all of his sermons to Professor Gerry Breshears, multiple pastors in his area or that he’s close with, and his entire staff team — most of whom have at least a master’s education — for peer review. Is this better peer review than the average academic journal? While the quality of peer-review he receives is highly subjective, most academic journals only provide 1-3 peer-reviewers, while Comer receives around 10-20. That’s pretty cool.