There doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to fashion. Consider jeans—so common as to be practically invisible. Ever wonder why jeans are the thing to wear, and not khakis? I don’t know, it’s just fashion. Or take shoes, for instance: when I first came to southern California, I was startled to see people wearing flip-flops everywhere (in the supermarket and even in church), but now I’m used to it. The SoCal crowd could just as easily wear sandals in town and reserve the flip-flops for the beach like they do on the East Coast; it’s just a matter of fashion.

It’s no big deal whether you go with the crowd on wearing jeans and flip-flops, or whether you prefer slacks and sandals. What is more of a big deal is that our culture is full of spiritual fashions, too.

The “in” thing is to be “spiritual,” as in, “I don’t go to church, but I’m very spiritual,” or “I’m spiritual but not religious.” It’s the moral equivalent of a zero-calorie soft drink: have it when you feel like it; it won’t change your figure! It’s fashionable enough to admit to an occasional deep thought about God, assuming you aren’t so extreme as to let it change your behavior. Even going to church once in a while is OK, as long as you don’t take it seriously.

On the other hand, being a devout Christian is so not the cool thing.

Consider what might happen if I profess in a mixed gathering that I am a born-again Christian. I can imagine someone giving me an incredulous look and saying, “Come on. You’re a college professor. You mean you really believe all this Jesus and miracles stuff?”

The easy answer, the devilishly easy answer, is: “Well, kind of …” It’s tempting to soften it, to say, “Well, it’s kind of like a spiritual resurrection, and prayer is good for relieving stress, and well, yeah, I go to church, but I’m not, you know, serious about it. …” The temptation is to say these things, thinking that it means, “Yes, I believe,” in a non-threatening way … but it really says, “No, I don’t believe.”

The true answer is also the harder one: to look straight back and say, “Yes, I believe that Jesus is the Son of God, that He died and was bodily raised from the dead on the third day. And I follow and obey Him as my Lord.”

Not fashionable, not fashionable at all.

Maybe our imagined questioner isn’t done yet. “So you think Jesus is the only way to salvation?”

The “Yes” answer to that is deeply unpopular. What do we get called when we affirm that yes, Jesus is the way, not a way? That the Bible is the truth, not a truth? Let’s see: bigoted, hateful, out of touch, ignorant, irrational, closed-minded, intolerant, sexist, homophobic, oppressive. Et cetera, ad nauseam. This was not unforeseen. “If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub,” Jesus pointed out, “how much more will they malign those of his household!” (Matt 10:25, KJV)

So why not soften it? If we get flak for saying that He is the way, why not suggest that He is just one of many possible ways to God, and that He happens to be our way? Maybe your way is different, but equally valid. Doesn’t that smooth things over nicely?

One of the reasons this “many paths” heresy has traction is that, phrased a certain way, it sounds like humility: who are we to say what’s the right way to God? But this “humility” rings false when tested. God made us, not we Him, and we have the truth on God’s say-so, not our own. It is sinful pride to think that we are a better judge of truth than God—that we know better than God does how to come to Him. Nice trap, that: the pride that leads us away from Christ is disguised as the humility that ought to lead us to Him.

To claim that Jesus is just one of many ways to God may seem like just a little softening of the message, but in cold truth it is to deny Him—the only-begotten Son of God, who suffered death upon the cross for our redemption.

Jesus doesn’t leave us in the dark about who He is. Telling us straight, looking each of us in the eye, He says, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6-7). To deny that He is the only way is to deny His Lordship. And Jesus is clear that this is a decision with consequences: “Whoever publicly acknowledges me I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever publicly disowns me I will disown before my Father in heaven” (Matt 10:32-33).

Will those who distort the Gospel and say that Jesus is just one option on the multi-faith menu be among those to whom Jesus will declare on the last day, “I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers”? (Matt 7:23). I don’t know, but I do take to heart Jesus’ stern warning that, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven” (Matt 7:21).

This is not a popular position.

None of this would matter in the least if faith were like fashion. It really doesn’t matter whether you wear jeans or khakis, sandals or flip-flops—personal taste is an acceptable guide here. However, the great lie of modern culture is that faith is just like one’s taste in clothes or shoes. It isn’t. We are called to make a choice: to follow Christ, or deny Him. One is truth and life; the other falsehood and death. There is no middle ground.

As I write this, today’s Gospel lesson has Jesus’ warning: “Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword” (Matt 10:34). He continues: “Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves a son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it” (Matt 10:37-39).

This is not fashionable at all. It is something far better: it is true.

A clear, honest witness to the truth of the Gospel is an incredible thing. If I had only ever heard that Jesus is one of many possible ways to God, if I had only heard the feel-good evangelism that leaves out the terrifying life-changing commitment part, then I would still be dead in my sins.

But, thanks be to God, I have friends who were willing to be unfashionable: to live out the Gospel in their lives, and to look me in the eye when I was a skeptical atheist and say, “Yes, I believe.” That did more than any softening of the Christian message could ever do. It made me take the Gospel seriously. Here was something that good people built their lives on. Could it possibly be true? If it was true, then it would change everything. It was, and it did.

“Choose this day whom you will serve.” (Joshua 24:15, ESV).

Are you uncomfortable? Perhaps a little nervous? I am. This is not fashion—it is serious business. This is what the Gospel demands of us. Life or death. Commitment or rejection. To say “yes” is to commit ourselves to Christ, with no going back, whatever the cost. At the very least, that cost includes the death of our self-will, the painful confrontation with and crucifixion of our sinful nature. There is no comfortable, safe middle ground. To follow Him partway is not to follow Him at all; to say “maybe” to Jesus is to say “no.” And there is no other way than Him.
As for me—I have said “yes” to Christ, my Risen Lord.

If there is any truth in what I write, it is Christ’s alone.