Engaging with “Practicing the Way”: Nine Thoughts on John Mark Comer’s Best Seller
March 12, 2025
March 12, 2025
John Mark Comer, Practicing the Way: Be with Jesus. Become like him. Do as he did. WaterBrook, 2024. 288 pages.
In the recent past John Mark Comer and I have both pastored in Portland, Oregon. I personally know many who have been helped by his former church and ministry. I understand why Comer’s books reach the New York Times Best Sellers list and why many have signed up for the Practicing the Way Course, based on the book that I am reviewing here, which came out in early 2024.
In the book, Comer aims to provide seekers and followers of Jesus with spiritual disciplines that will help them grow in their faith. Comer is Keller-esque in his analysis and critique of our cultural milieu and in his diagnosis of the hurried modern heart. Personally, I found Comer’s practical suggestions on pursuing rest refreshing and helpful.
However, Practicing the Way departs so much from biblical faithfulness and emphasis that I warn my church members against reading it and following its advice. The book culminates in “design[ing] your Rule of Life to integrate . . . nine core practices” (181). Given Comer’s and this website’s affinity for the number nine, I humbly offer nine warnings for readers of The Way.
Comer’s thesis is that “transformation is possible if we are willing to arrange our lives around the practices, rhythms, and truths that Jesus himself did, which will open our lives to God’s power to change” (xvi). Comer doesn’t ground his thesis in the work of Christ, being reborn by the Spirit, or even faith and repentance (as Jesus, in fact, did). Without an emphasis on grace, regeneration, or Jesus as Savior and Lord, Comer’s thesis risks pushing readers towards works-righteousness, as it did for many of the mystics Comer cites and admires. Part of me worries that Comer’s book is so popular for the same reason that self-help books are popular: works-righteousness is the default setting of the human heart and people love any book or speaker that affirms these instincts.
For a popular book, I was pleasantly surprised that he tackled the problem of sin (90-92). But his discussion of “sin” lacks any reference to God. Yes, the doctrine of original sin is empirically verifiable as theologian Reinhold Niebuhr argued, so maybe that’s Comer’s approach. But in a book on how to become like Jesus, it’s dangerous to omit that our sin is first and foremost against a holy God who will eternally judge all who do not repent (Gen. 39:9; Ps. 51:4; Isa. 59:2; Rom. 3:23; 1 John 3:4).
Instead of emphasizing Christ on the cross as our substitute, Comer offers the encouraging balm of how Christ came to heal us (92-94). Yes, our sin problem needs holistic healing. But that healing comes through Christ standing in our place as our substitute.
Comer defines the gospel as follows:
The gospel is that Jesus is the ultimate power in the universe and that life with him is now available to all. Through his birth, life, teachings, miracles, death, resurrection, ascension, and gift of the Spirit, Jesus has saved, is saving, and will save all creation. And through apprenticeship to Jesus, we can enter into this kingdom and into the inner life of God himself. (135-136)
While Comer’s emphasis on cosmic renewal (likely drawing from Colossians 1:19–20 and Romans 8:21) reflects a biblical theme, his definition risks obscuring the heart of the gospel: the atoning work of Christ for sinners. By framing the gospel primarily in terms of universal restoration and apprenticeship, Comer downplays the centrality of sin, substitutionary atonement, and the necessity of personal repentance and faith. This approach, while compelling, leaves the gospel incomplete and risks veering into ambiguity or even universalism.
Apprentices of Jesus are called to “surrender” and “confess” but not repent (95-96, 210-13). It’s concerning that Comer cites AA as the best example of confession that he has seen (95). If God mainly offers healing to all who are sick and wounded, surrender and confession are appropriate prescriptions. But if God is a personal, holy, righteous, and just judge who must punish all who have rebelled against him with eternal damnation, then mere confession and surrender will not do.
Comer argues, “You can’t follow Jesus alone” (108). And throughout his book, he demonstrates that discipleship is a corporate exercise. But Comer puts the individual in the driver’s seat, functionally handicapping the authority that Christ gives the church. Comer calls believers to create their own rule of life based on his core practices and then find a community to help them live those out (158-205). But Scripture calls us to submit to the church, not merely ask the church to help us practice our own personal WWJD.
Comer suggests that we ask ourselves, “What would Jesus do if he were me?” (123) This question is better than WWJD because living like Jesus requires biblical wisdom particular to our station and circumstances in life. But Comer’s question still suffers from the same malady as the original WWJD question. It isn’t distinctly Christian. Any person of any faith (or lack thereof) can benefit from asking this question. But believers are called to live as those who find their lives hidden in Christ (Col. 3:3), not merely internalize his teachings for modern life.
Comer’s first core practice in Practicing the Way is Sabbath, which runs like a heartbeat throughout the book (182). “Sabbath” is where Comer is at his best and his worst. His diagnoses of our current cultural and personal maladies are part of what makes his book so compelling to so many. They were to me. And so his practical recommendations on how to pursue rest and delight in God are wonderful. Now, maybe Comer’s decision to list Sabbath before Scripture wasn’t intentional. After all, he does claim that Scripture is “the primary way we are transformed” (186). Further, he writes that “teaching and truth” are “the linchpin” of our spiritual formation (103-4). But these acknowledgments fall flat when the primacy and sufficiency of Scripture get little airtime. For a book on how to be with and become like Jesus, that’s a serious problem.
It is healthy to read widely and listen to those outside of our echo chambers. But this book often seems shaped by what Comer has learned from mystics, monks, Catholics, Orthodox priests, and philosophers who emphasize experience. As Protestant Evangelicals, we need regular reminders not merely to believe but to practice what we believe with joy. But many within our Protestant tradition call us to experience God and be happy in Christ (see John Piper, Charles Spurgeon, Martin Lloyd-Jones, and many more). As Protestants, we will be most helped by those who hold the same view of Scripture, which is the rule for our faith and practice.
I wish that Comer would have used his engaging writing and sharp cultural analysis to persuade readers of the authority of the Scriptures and the necessity of the cross. The result could have been an excellent discipleship tool for following the Jesus of the Bible. Instead, I was left with a Jesus that would make for a great life coach, but not the Savior and Lord as revealed in God’s Word.
Our character can be used by God for eternal good—or our lack thereof can wreak havoc.
We have 234 catalogs of ministers’ libraries in the Netherlands during the seventeenth century. Here are three lessons we ought not neglect.
We asked pastors around the world a simple question: what books did you read in 2023 that helped you be a better pastor?
