Two Christianities

There are, functionally, two religions that both go by the name Christianity.

One is a religion of being right, of holding “right” beliefs.
The other is a religion of being in right relationship.

Everything flows from this divide.

The first is obsessed with correct belief, correct information, correct doctrine about God. It is deeply invested in control. It values certainty over humility and compliance over transformation. I don’t know if it is incapable or simply refuses to see its own humanity or the humanity of others, because to do so would require vulnerability. And vulnerability would mean admitting it is not in control.

This is why this version of Christianity so easily aligns itself with empire, government power, and domination. Empire loves a religion that keeps people in line. Empire loves a faith that can be weaponized. Empire loves certainty that justifies cruelty. Empire is all about law and order.

The second way is not primarily about being right. It is about following Jesus.

It is about discipleship. Discipleship is about following Jesus and what he calls on followers to do.
It is about transformation. Transformation is about being changed in ways that we cannot control, but that help us to be more fully who we were created to be.
It is about liberation, justice, healing, and restoration.

It is about being brought into right relationship with God, with one another, and with creation itself. That is why its center of gravity is Jesus and the prophets—not abstract belief systems, but lived faithfulness.

These two ways produce very different fruit.

When Christianity becomes primarily about being right, force becomes justifiable. Violence becomes explainable. Cruelty becomes necessary. Scripture becomes a weapon instead of a witness. The logic of empire sneaks in quietly: the ends justify the means; might makes right; the strong deserve to survive.

Lives are ruined “for the greater good.”
People are enslaved “by God’s design.”
Races are ranked.
Wars are blessed.

History is overflowing with examples: the Crusades, colonialism, chattel slavery, apartheid, the forced conversion and erasure of Indigenous peoples, segregation defended from pulpits, queer bodies legislated and shamed, women silenced “biblically.” None of this happened in spite of Christianity. Much of it happened because a certain kind of Christianity made it possible.

Not the way of Jesus—but a religion that borrowed his name.

This is also why, in this first version, Paul often becomes more central than Jesus.

Paul can be useful.

Paul can be selectively quoted, flattened, twisted into a system of rules and order that keeps power intact. When being right is the highest value, Paul becomes a prooftext machine. Belief replaces following. Orthodoxy replaces love. Structure replaces freedom.

Jesus, on the other hand, is inconvenient.

Jesus heals on the wrong day.
Jesus eats with the wrong people.
Jesus forgives without permission.
Jesus breaks rules in the name of mercy.

Jesus doesn’t say, “Believe the correct things so you can be safe.”
Jesus says, “Follow me.”

And following Jesus leads people out of captivity—spiritual, social, political, and economic. It disrupts hierarchies. It exposes lies. It threatens those who benefit from the way things are.

Which is exactly why empire is uncomfortable with that Christianity.

Here’s a good test:

If a religion is safe for empire, if it reassures those in power, if it maintains the status quo, if it poses no real threat to unjust systems—then it is not worshiping the God revealed in Jesus. It is serving as a front for the gods of empire.

And those gods are always the same:

• the god of war
• the god of wealth
• the god of power

Jesus rejects them all.

In the wilderness.
In his teaching.
In his life.
And ultimately, in his death at the hands of empire itself.

Jesus is not primarily concerned with people getting the information “right,” as if faith were a test and failure meant punishment.

Jesus is concerned with setting people free from the things that punish us:
from sin that dehumanizes,
from death that crushes hope,
from tyranny that steals dignity,
from systems that grind people down.

Jesus comes so that people can fully live—
in creation,
in community,
in justice,
in shalom.

That is the Christianity worth following.

The other version is just empire wearing a second hand costume that is unconvincing. It’s not worth devoting your life to. And it certainly isn’t worth dying for. It will discard anyone and everyone.

The Christianity of Jesus has never been safe. Often it is dangerous. We were never promised safety I following Jesus. We were promised that we would never be alone. That’s the type of Christianity that changes lives, communities, and the world for the better.