Dear John Mark Comer, Disciple Is Also A Verb & Jesus Is Still Building His Church
Practicing the Way of Jesus the Way the Apostles Did
I would have loved the book—if it had not included the introduction and would have promised to include a sequel. But, as it is, my concern with Practicing the Way: Be with Jesus. Become Like Him. Do as He Did. by John Mark Comer is that a wonderful book on Christ-centered spiritual formation may very well serve only to reinforce a vision of following Jesus that is largely defined by the cancerous hyper-individualism that is destroying churches in America.
I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to address the problems in this book, but it has been talked up and recommended to me by a number of people in my church, so I offer the following not as a proper book review—if it were such, it would sound far more charitable because there are so many things to like about this book—but rather as a kind of needed disclaimer for those who have or intend to read it. With such a disclaimer, I would wholeheartedly recommend it—but only so, because the fundamental claim in the premise of the book is patently and demonstrably false. If you can see what is true (or not) in the beginning, it will illumine (or shade) everything that follows.
I’ve broken up the following article into two parts based on two simple and objective facts, the first Comer denies, the second he omits.
Part 1: The word disciple is used both as a noun and a verb in the New Testament: his claim that disciple is not a verb, therefore, misrepresents Scripture’s use of the word and obscures a clear understanding of its meaning and implications.
Part 2: The word disciple is not used—Not Once—after the book of Acts (from Romans-Revelation): models of discipleship based solely on the Gospels and Acts, just like models of missions based solely on the Gospels and Acts (both are common), neglect the development of the New Testament from nomadic disciples (the Gospels) to traveling/dispersing missionaries (Acts) to relatively permanent communities (the Epistles), formed by regular Lord’s-Day-Gatherings in Jesus’ name, called churches—all of which were expressions of the Church Jesus promised to build (Mt. 16:18) and which He sent letters to in his final words of Scripture (Revelation). Models that neglect the whole of the New Testament, the whole counsel of Scripture for that matter, are insufficient to provide a vision for how disciples of Jesus become and so cooperate as the body of Christ in the fellowship (koinonia) of the Holy Spirit.
Part 1: The word disciple is used both as a noun and a verb in the New Testament:
The Book’s Premise: “Disciple is a noun, not a verb”
Practicing the Way is an attempt to define and revive the use of the word “disciple” (mathetes in Greek, talmid in Hebrew) with three directives, which serve as the subtitle of the book: 1. Be with Jesus; 2. Become like Jesus; 3. Do as he did. Well and good. Comer suggests the best translation that captures the concept of disciple in our vernacular is “apprentice” (p. 28). I could get on board with that too.
The problem is not so much with his definition of disciple but with its delimitations. Namely, he claims, “disciple is a noun, not a verb” (p. 27). The problem is: it’s both. First, let me lay out his argument in his own terms. Comer writes,
“But whatever translation you adopt—disciple, apprentice, practitioner, student, follower—let me state the obvious: Talmid is a noun, not a verb. People regularly ask me, “Who are you discipling?” or “Who discipled you?” But as far as I can tell, not one time in the entire New Testament is disciple used as a verb. Not once.[fn. 24] Grammatically speaking, then, to use disciple as a verb is bad form” (p. 28-29).
We’ll soon return to that “not once” and his footnote explaining away the more-than-one times it is used as a verb.
He then gives examples of how silly it is to try to turn the noun disciple into a verb by doing so with various of its “synonyms” (although none of them really are used synonymously in the New Testament, except perhaps the last one): “Who are you Chrstian-ing?” “Who are you believer-ing?” “Who are you follower-ing?” Thus, he concludes:
“I would argue that you can’t ‘disciple’ somebody any more than you can “Christian” them, “believer-er” them, or “follower-er” them. Please hear me: This is not just semantics. Language matters. Here’s why: If disciple is something that is done to you (a verb), then that puts the onus of responsibility for your spiritual formation on someone else, like your pastor, church, or mentor. But if disciple is a noun—if it’s someone you are or are not—then no one can “disciple” you but Rabbi Jesus himself” (p. 29-30).
So this is the claim: (1) disciple is a noun, not a verb—someone you are (or aren’t), not something you do—and (2) since Jesus alone is our Rabbi/Master (cf. p. 20), only he can disciple people. [Never mind the fact that he just he used disciple as a verb in the last line of his argument by affirming that “Rabbi Jesus himself” did precisely that.] Nonetheless, if 1 were true, the basic principle of 2 might be plausible—it just isn’t.
One thing I can certainly agree is true: This is not just semantics. Language matters (including semantics!).
Disciple Is A Noun Until Jesus Transforms It Into a Verb
Returning to his claim that “as far as I can tell not one time in the entire New Testament is disciple used as a verb. Not once.” I find it remarkable that he is so emphatic about disciple “[never] once” being used in the “entire” NT as a verb, as far as he was aware, when his footnote indicates that he was well aware of the contrary. He writes,
“In Greek, the language of the New Testament, the primary word used is mathētēs. The verb mathēteuō is used in a few verses but is translated as “to be a disciple” or “to make disciples”—so disciple is still used as a noun. Both Matthew 28:19 and Acts 14:21 use this term in connection to the gospel. But even then, I would interpret it to refer to preaching the gospel in such a way that people become apprentices of Jesus, not just “converts” to a religious view” (p. 254).
Okay, so the argument is that “disciple” is never used as a verb in the New Testament—not once—except that it is, more than once, but, he argues, that original use can be explained away because English translators translate it away.
The reason some (not the best) English translations translate the verb disciple as a noun is because of its admittedly rare and exceptional uses as a verb. Disciple is predominantly used as a noun, in fact. However, it is precisely because of its exceptional uses that its grammar should be preserved and those exceptions examined, especially given the significant placement of those uses. The most telling of of which is in the first verse he cited in his footnote, Matthew 28:19, at the conclusion of Matthew’s Gospel in the Great Commission, in which those whom Jesus had called to be disciples were finally commissioned to do what he did far beyond the scope (in number and diversity) that he did it: Disciple all the nations/peoples (ethnos / Gentiles)!
I have written a lengthy article on this use of “disciple” here (and preached a sermon on it here) that discusses the problems of translating away the verb with the phrase “make disciples” (never mind his own translation to “make apprentices”—so we can’t disciple people as Jesus’ disciples but we can make them apprentices (whose?) as Jesus’ apprentices?), so if you want to “greek out” on the full argument, you can do so there. Suffice it here simply to summarize the conclusion. After Jesus had completed his in-the-flesh discipleship of his disciples, he turned the noun “disciple” into the verb, and not just a verb but a verb in the imperative, a command: “Disciple all the nations…” Jesus’ command to disciple, ironically enough, is Comer’s third directive of discipleship: do what Jesus did.
[Although, in context, Jesus modifies/particularizes the command to disciple with three adverbial participles: going, baptizing, and teaching, each of which deserve careful examination in their own right!]
This doesn’t mean they stop becoming Jesus’ disciples, nor does it mean that when they disciple others that those others are supposed to merely become disciples of Jesus’ disciples. It meant and it means, they were to disciple people into becoming disciples of Jesus. That is, when a person becomes a disciple of Jesus, through the community of faith that disciples him or her, and is sufficiently equipped to disciple others, they are called/sent to disciple others into becoming disciples of Jesus as well—something like, as Paul said, “follow me as I follow Christ” (1 Cor. 11:1) until you know the Way of Christ well enough to follow him yourselves.
This ongoing call to become disciples and to disciple others is implied in the duration of the mission (“till the end of the age,” Mt. 28:20) and becomes possible only because of the reality of the Holy Spirit, who comes as the “Spirit of Christ” (Rom. 8:19) to indeed be with the disciples, make them like Jesus, and to empower them to do what he did.
This leads to part 2, because doing what he did is obviously necessary for followers, disciples, apprentices, believers in Jesus, but what Jesus did did not stop in the Gospels, so neither can our models of discipleship stop there.
Part 2: The word disciple is not used—Not Once—after the book of Acts
I think the great value of Practicing the Way is the call for every individual to truly become a disciple of Jesus in all aspects of our lives, the final expression of which is to do what he did. Comer rightly points out that Jesus did not stop acting in the world at the conclusion of the Gospels but has continued working ever since. Hence, he writes, “In Acts 1, the historian Luke wrote, ‘In my former book [The Gospel of Luke],…I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and to teach.” Note the verb: began. The implication is, this book is about what Jesus’ disciples continue to do and to teach” (pp. 137-138). This was true in virtue of the Holy Spirit being sent, so that the work of Christ would continue through the body of Christ. Acts details the church planting missionary movements of the apostles through whom Christ began fulfilling his promise to “build [his] Church” (Mt. 16:18) through the presence and power of the Holy Spirit.
Oddly enough, however, Comer did not move us forward, the way Luke moves us forward from the Gospel to Acts, to show how the Gospels were only the beginning of Jesus’ work. Instead, he returned back to the Gospels to suggest that after the Holy Spirit was sent the disciples of Jesus were now empowered to do what Jesus did in the Gospels, miracles and all the rest.
[It is telling, I might add, that this leads to a seemingly forced discussion on miracles being the essence of ‘doing what Jesus did’, not that I deny the continuation of miracles, but he seems to be ignoring the most obvious and ongoing aspect of what it means to do what Lord and Rabbi Jesus did throughout his ministry: teaching his disciples “to do all he commanded,” which is exactly what he commanded them to do in the Great Commission when he specified how they would “disciple the nations” (Mt. 28:18-20). In the Gospels and in life, discipleship is normative; miracles are exceptional—if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be miraculous.]
Even so, all this is well and good, if derivative, but it’s just not the whole picture. The biblical model moves from one Man empowered by the Holy Spirit to whole communities so empowered. Indeed, the power itself was evident in the kinds of communities, the kind of Church, Christ was building: Jews and Gentiles were gathering around the name of Jesus, in response to the Gospel, so that Christ by the Spirit was making “one new humanity in place of the two,” uniting “all things in heaven and on earth” beginning with former enemies becoming “fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God” (Eph. 2:15-19). This was a new thing Jesus was doing, and you won’t find that model in the Gospels.
Luke shows the development described above, where the original disciples of Jesus take on a new role: apostles—not ever graduating from being disciples of Christ but taking on a new role that defined their relationship to the community Christ was building, the body of Christ, the Church. As Apostles, they preached the Gospel and discipled others who became Jesus’ disciples (cf. Acts 14:20-22), who in turn took on various roles in relation to the church and the world: apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers.
Paul describes this explicitly as the work Jesus did after he ascended to heaven and sent the Holy Spirit (so from Acts onward). He describes these roles as gifts (or rather gift-persons) given by Christ for the building up of the body of Christ:
“When he ascended on high he led a host of captives, and he gave gifts to men…that he might fill all things: He gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Eph. 4:10-13).
When a person becomes a disciple of Jesus, they never graduate from that relationship to Christ, and are always called to follow the way of Christ, but to do what Jesus did is to participate in what he’s doing—and that will always, in some way, reflect a role in “building up of the body of Christ” (Eph. 4:12). That’s not to say local churches can’t do a better job at discipling people and nurturing their faith as disciples of Christ—and that is the real value I found in this book—but it is to say that a book that doesn’t move discipleship toward a vision of building up the body of Christ is not only incomplete—it is not where Christ led, or leads, his disciples.
I don’t think it would be too speculative to suggest that this orientation of discipleship lends itself to an individualistic, consumer model of the Church: churches exist to, and are evaluated by whether and how they, aid in the individual’s formation. Churches and church leaders should indeed concern themselves with the personal formation of its members, but its members are called to orient themselves to the formation of the community and their part to play in “building up of the body of Christ” (Eph. 4:12). Indeed, that grand vision of the body of Christ in Ephesians 4 begins with the calling of every disciple: “I…urge you to walk in a manner worthy to the calling to which you’ve been called” (Eph. 4:1). It culminates with each member cooperating in the “work of ministry” (Eph 4:12) that builds up the body of Christ so that “when each part is *working properly,* makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love” (Eph. 4:16).
This vision, this model, will take into account the kind of life situation that looks more like the daily relational and familial dysfunctions found in the church at Corinth and Galatia, with kids running amok and couples strained by the workweek, than the meandering journey of twelve adult men following one Man around on a three-year journey. We need both models, or rather an integrated model, for all our meandering life journeys and our family dysfunctions. We need personal discipleship and community formation. It takes a village to disciple a sinner, to raise a saint.
Community formation, when it is healthy, always nurtures the personal formation of its members, but individual formation does not always nurture community formation, especially when individual members have a dismembered vision of themselves in relation to the body of Christ.
I’d love to see a sequel to this book that spells out such a vision: a model of discipleship that includes the rest of the New Testament, that hits the ground in relatively permanent communities of plumbers and welders and teachers and shipyard workers who are raising families and coaching soccer and marrying and burying each other over the course of a lifetime—communities that live together and die together.
In communities that gather week after week for lifetimes—in the church—those weekly gatherings (which Comer disparagingly calls elsewhere “Sunday-centric models of church,” despite the fact that they are based on the New Testament church’s example of gathering “on the Lord’s Day” (Acts 20:7; 1 Cor. 16:2)) create opportunities to form new relationships with people who would otherwise never cross paths, where strangers and orphans become citizens and siblings together in the household of God (read Eph. 2), where people meet for worship and new Christ-centered relationships form in the ongoing and mutual discipleship of true community. Weekend gatherings create the opportunity for weekday relationships, which in turn informs and transforms the nature of that gathering in Christ’s name called the Church. Members are transformed in the body and the body is transformed and built up by its members.
Whatever model a person subscribes to, it should lead to the mutual formation of members and body, of persons and people, of the individual and the community, because that is the not only the model Jesus gave us in his Word—it is the Church he is still building in his world today.
I have learned much from Comer, and have used his material in my church, but I think your critique is fair. If his book is viewed in isolation from the rest of his work (which it can be, since it was published as a standalone book!), then it can seem a bit individualistic.
However, I have also done a few of the Practices (4 week group study on a spiritual discipline), and they have done much to foster a communal and ecclesial approach to our discipleship.
Thanks for writing the review! Great food for thought.
I am a big fan of comer. Read almost everything he’s written. listened to dozens of his messages.
I come across quite few critiques of his work that are fair and don’t come off as “I’m upset his book sold better than mine/people in my circle”
but this article was great and super fair, kept it very informative while not trying to dunk on comer’s character.