London, SPCK, 2024; ISBN 978-0-281-08667-2 HB, 254 pp.

This is one of those can’t-quite-put-your-finger-on-it books. It seems ‘off’ – at least in places – but at first blush it’s not easy to pinpoint quite why.

On the one hand, there’s no questioning the ambition of the enterprise. This, after all, is the book that has already given rise to numerous resources intended to help turn it into an Alpha-like ‘discipling’ course for maturing Christians. To this end there are accompanying workbooks and audio-visual accompaniments for wider church use which are not the subject of this review.

The book itself covers a lot of ground and Comer is indebted to various (acknowledged) texts and sources to which he gives a ‘twist’ at various points. From the off, for example, he shows a tendency, repeated throughout, to give traditional terms his own redefinition. ‘Apprentice’ replaces ‘disciple’ because Comer thinks that ‘[t]he problem with the word disciple is that we don’t use it much outside church circles.’ [Emphasis in the original]. As Practicing The Way seems primarily intended for use within church circles this might not appear to be as big a problem as Comer seems to think it is but the programme of redefinition and substitution continues throughout and this early example sets the scene. Hence the gospels become ‘biographies of Jesus’ (even though by common theological consent they’re not), Matthew’s gospel becomes ‘the biographer Matthew’s telling of the Jesus story’, grace becomes ‘the empowering presence of God’s spirit’, and – perhaps most concerning of all – the Great Commission becomes ‘”Go and makes apprentices of all kinds of people.”’ And so on, throughout. These replacements grate: not simply because they’re unnecessary but because they don’t always do justice to the full range of the Biblical writers’ intended meanings and sometimes actively obscure them. It might be argued that Comer is simply supplying paraphrases but it’s not at all clear that he intends this. Indeed, he footnotes his rewording of the Great Commission in such a way as to indicate a greater fidelity to the underlying Greek original.

Occasionally he gets in a real muddle: such as on page 48 when he appears to read trinitarian theology into Psalm 27 and on page 124 when he favours and presents a definition of ‘firstfruit’ as ‘prototype’ without consideration of the fact that Paul’s original use of the word was in connection with the resurrection (and hence firmly eschatological). In fact, there’s a sense of overreach throughout. In his consideration of the meaning of hamartia – ‘sin’ – for example, Comer presents a range of options for the rendering of the original Greek meaning of ‘missing the mark’ – ‘What if it’s the healing of your soul through participation in the inner life of the Trinity?’ – whilst failing to recognise that it was surely a matter for Jesus (and his Jewish companions) of breaking commandments. Isn’t this, after all, why there was a sacrificial system? For those who missed the mark? The Trinity-participation language recurs throughout, incidentally, and frequently left me wondering what it actually meant (or whether it actually meant anything at all).

Comer is clearly taken with some other Christian writers with whom he shares common views. Dallas Willard, in particular, has clearly been a major influence and is quoted from at length. It was odd, though, in the early stages of his treatment of ‘apprenticeship’ not to encounter any indebtedness to Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s notion of ‘cheap grace’ as found in The Cost of Discipleship. It maps on so clearly to Comer’s avowed early intent to present the fullest meaning of discipleship – sorry, ‘apprenticeship’ – that I was surprised not to see it there. I was surprised, too, on page 167 to see the question ‘Is this sinful or not?’ replaced by ‘my new question…Does this move me toward Jesus or away?’ but this, too, is broadly in keeping with Comer’s repeated tendency to redefinition to which I have already drawn attention.

These nagging issues are unfortunate because in places Comer really does hit the mark. His discussion of abiding is excellent and challenging, as is his later discussion of confessing within the context of addiction. There is too much, however, that has been done – and better done – elsewhere and from the outset I found myself thinking of that oft-quoted adage from Dr. Johnson: ‘Your manuscript is both good and original; the part that is good is not original, and the part that is original is not good.’ Bearing this in mind, the reader would do well to follow up Comer’s sources as included in the ‘Notes’ at the end and which are both revealing and useful.

Given the intention that the book and accompanying materials be used within a ‘hands on’ church setting it is not surprising to see that a fair chunk of the book’s later stages is taken up with ‘A Rule of Life’: a sort of practical ‘manual of discipline’ to ensure that Christian ‘apprenticeship’ goes beyond mere reflection and finds full, lived, application. Whilst Comer clearly doesn’t like things that are set in stone – ‘Jesus came to set us free by living according to his way, not to enslave us to routine, ritual and religion’ – the Rule of Life appears in many ways very closely prescriptive. Towards the end he quotes with approval part of the prologue to The Rule of Saint Benedict to the effect that ‘the good of all concerned…may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and to safeguard love’ and this brought me up sharp. Hmmm. Since when was Christian love compatible with utilitarian strands of morality in which the interests of majorities trump those of minorities?

In fact, I think that my somewhat uncomfortable can’t-quite-put-my-finger-on-it feeling about this book stems from the fact that Comer’s ‘Way’ might be a somewhat controlling one. On page 180 he admits to having a ‘controlling spirit’ and whilst I admire his candour this admission might well explain certain aspects of Practicing The Way such as the repeated tendency to redefine and recast which I might otherwise have found simply puzzling. Besides, I’m never comfortable with inflicting one particular Christian ‘way’ on other Christians and for that reason I would like to see Comer’s way offered as a possible path for Christians within an ongoing, broader church setting that encourages other paths simultaneously also. Not everybody is called to – or needs – ‘apprenticeship’ of the sort Comer commends. Indeed, in my experience, what many Christians truly need above all else is a hug, a listening ear and a piece of cake. On page 209 he writes that ‘Coercion is not a fruit of the Spirit’: a timely reminder that Christians should be free to choose various ways to follow The Way which might or might not include the one on offer here.