Why the difference matters more than we want to admit
You've probably been accused of getting Jesus wrong. Maybe by progressives who think you're too conservative. Maybe by evangelicals who think you've gone soft. Maybe by both, in the same week.
This isn't that conversation.
This is about something underneath all the tribal noise. Something more fundamental than which camp has the right take. There's a quiet but decisive line running through modern Christianity, and it has nothing to do with left versus right.
On one side is love for Jesus himself. On the other is attachment to an idea of Jesus.
The two can look identical on the surface. They use the same language. Quote the same verses. Sing the same songs. But they lead to very different lives. And eventually, they produce very different fruit.
This distinction is not academic. It explains why faith can feel alive in one season and hollow in another. It explains how people can speak passionately about Christ while resisting his actual teachings. And it explains why Christianity can begin to resemble brand loyalty more than discipleship.
Jesus himself names the difference plainly: "If you love me, obey my commandments" (John 14:15, NLT). Not as a threat. Not as leverage. But as a description of what love looks like when it is real.
The idea of Jesus is controllable
An idea is safe. An idea can be curated, edited, emphasized, and quietly ignored when inconvenient. An idea of Jesus can be heroic without being disruptive, comforting without being demanding, affirming without being transforming.
This is the Jesus who exists primarily as:
- a moral mascot for our values
- a symbol of belonging to a group
- a guarantor of being right
- a spiritual endorsement of our politics, culture, or identity
This Jesus rarely surprises anyone. He never says hard things at the wrong time. He never touches the places we are defending. He never asks us to love people we would rather write off.
The evangelical idea of Jesus champions traditional values but stays silent on systemic injustice. The progressive idea of Jesus champions social justice but makes no demands on sexual ethics or personal holiness. Both versions confirm what we already believe. Both protect us from transformation.
Scripture warns how easily this happens. When devotion becomes detached from obedience, truth is slowly exchanged for comfort, and worship turns inward rather than outward (Romans 1:21-25).
As Dietrich Bonhoeffer warned:
"Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance."
The idea of Jesus is predictable because it is constructed.
The real Jesus is not manageable
Loving Jesus himself is different because he refuses to stay abstract. The Jesus of the Gospels speaks, acts, interrupts, and destabilizes. He does not exist to validate our worldview but to re-form it.
He calls fishermen and tax collectors, not brand strategists. He eats with people who ruin reputations. He tells religious experts they are missing the point. He blesses the poor and warns the comfortable. He forgives freely and then says, "Go and sin no more."
Jesus warned the religiously familiar: proximity is not faithfulness. "Not everyone who calls out to me, 'Lord! Lord!' will enter the Kingdom of Heaven," he says, pointing to obedience rather than performance (Matthew 7:21-23).
The real Jesus does not let us stay the same. We are in continual motion because Jesus doesn’t stay in one place. Take our eyes off of him once and he’s moved on and left us standing there.
Loving him requires relationship, not just agreement. And relationships change us, always growing.
Why we drift toward the idea instead of the person
Most people do not consciously choose a watered-down Jesus. The drift is usually subtle and understandable.
Loving a real person means risk. It means surrender. It means allowing ourselves to be wrong, corrected, or led somewhere unfamiliar. Loving an idea avoids that vulnerability.
The idea of Jesus lets us:
- stay in control
- avoid inner change
- keep our enemies clearly defined
- protect our sense of superiority
- maintain certainty instead of trust
Scripture names this tension honestly. Trust requires letting go of self-reliance, choosing dependence over mastery, and walking without full visibility (Proverbs 3:5-6; Hebrews 11:1).
In contrast, loving Jesus requires humility. It requires listening, not just declaring. It requires following, not just believing things about him.
"If you love me, you will do what I say"
This line unsettles us because it exposes the difference clearly. Love for Jesus is not measured by intensity of feeling or volume of confession but by orientation of life.
Not perfection. Direction.
Discipleship in Scripture is described as movement, as walking by the Spirit, as pressing on rather than arriving (Galatians 5:25; Philippians 3:12). Loving Jesus does not mean getting everything right. It means being willing to be led, corrected, softened, and sometimes undone.
Especially when his words collide with our instincts.
As Dallas Willard put it:
"The greatest issue facing the world today is whether those who are identified as Christians will become disciples of Jesus Christ."
Not admirers. Not defenders. Disciples.
How to tell which one we love
Here's the difficult part. You've likely been examined, judged, and found wanting by multiple camps already. The last thing you need is another metric of failure.
But honest self-examination is different from tribal evaluation. These questions aren't about whether you measure up to someone else's version of faithfulness. They're about whether you're actually following Jesus or just following an idea you've been handed:
- Does my version of Jesus ever challenge me, or only comfort me?
- When Jesus' teachings conflict with my politics, tribe, or preferences, which one wins?
- Do I spend more energy defending Christianity or becoming Christlike?
- Am I following Jesus into love of neighbor, or using him to justify distance from them?
Pause here for a moment.
If you're realizing something uncomfortable
If you're reading this and recognizing that you may love the idea of Jesus more than the reality of him, that recognition is not failure. It's clarity. And clarity is the doorway to repentance.
Repentance does not begin with shame. It begins with truth.
If you've discovered that your Jesus mostly agrees with you, rarely interrupts you, and never costs you anything, that's not something to defend or explain away. It's something to bring into the light. Scripture never treats repentance as humiliation. It treats it as return. A turning. A change of direction.
So here is what changing course actually looks like.
First, stop managing Jesus and start listening to him. Sit with the Gospels, not to confirm what you already believe, but to hear what he actually says. Read slowly. Let his words land without filtering them through your tribe, your politics, or your preferred teachers.
Second, pay attention to resistance. When a teaching of Jesus makes you uncomfortable, defensive, or eager to explain it away, don't rush past that moment. Stay there. That friction is often where transformation begins.
Third, practice obedience in small, concrete ways. Not grand gestures. Not public declarations. Quiet faithfulness. Forgiveness offered where it's undeserved. Compassion extended where it's inconvenient. Restraint exercised where reaction comes easily. This is where love moves from idea to reality.
And finally, ask Jesus to correct your image of him. Not to reassure you. To lead you. Pray honestly: "Show me where I've reshaped you to feel safer. Teach me who you really are." That prayer is not dangerous. It's faithful.
Repentance, in the truest sense, is not about becoming worse in your own eyes. It's about becoming more honest before God. And honesty is always the beginning of real discipleship.
The good news
Here is the hope: Jesus is not offended by our confusion. He meets people where they are, including those who begin with incomplete or distorted pictures of him. The Gospels are full of people who misunderstand Jesus and are still welcomed.
But he does not leave them there.
Moving from loving the idea of Jesus to loving Jesus himself is not a one-time decision. It is a repeated choice. A daily turning. A willingness to let him speak again, even when we think we already know what he will say.
The invitation is still open.
Not to admire him.
Not to use him.
But to follow him.
And that difference changes everything.
