John Mark Comer’s book Practicing the Way: Be with Jesus. Become like Him. Do as He Did has been declared the ECPA 2025 Christian Book of the Year. It’s no surprise that many evangelicals are discussing its vision for spiritual formation. Do we need more engagement with Comer’s work? First, the widespread interest in and unease about his approach tell me something deeper is going on. Many Christians I’ve spoken to express discomfort with Comer’s approach, but they can’t always articulate why. That tension warrants further reflection. Second, the differences between Comer’s approach and a Reformed Christian perspective on spiritual formation are worth exploring. Comer’s book is influencing many evangelicals. And evangelicalism arose from the Reformed tradition during the revivals of the 18th century. Unfortunately, my own book on spiritual formation in the Reformed tradition was too far along in production to engage with Comer’s work directly. This isn’t a book review. Rather, I want to highlight three significant ways Practicing the Way diverges from the model of spiritual formation commended by the reformers and, I’d argue, the Bible itself. Regeneration Neglected A Reformed approach insists spiritual growth is only possible for those who have been born again and united to Christ by his Spirit. Growth apart from this saving union is inconceivable because it’s only when we “are in Christ Jesus” that he can become for us our “righteousness and sanctification” (1 Cor. 1:30). Jesus teaches that “unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3). By contrast, in Practicing the Way, the doctrines of regeneration and union with Christ are virtually absent. Comer does talk about the need for the Holy Spirit, stating that spiritual formation requires you to “make your home in [Jesus’s] presence by the Spirit” (37). However, he doesn’t explain how one acquires the assistance of the Holy Spirit. Nor is there any sense in Practicing the Way that the Spirit’s work of regeneration is a definitive moment in a person’s life through which God “has caused us to be born again to a living hope” (1 Pet. 1:3). Instead, Comer focuses on the need to become an “apprentice” to Jesus, the master Rabbi, with an “end goal” of becoming “the kind of person who can say and do all the things Jesus said and did” (122). This description puts Jesus at the center—which is good— but neglects our Spirit-wrought union with him. Comer’s approach is all about the way Jesus’s earthly ministry provides an example or pattern to imitate. Patterning our life after Jesus is clearly a biblical theme (e.g., 1 Pet. 2:21), but it’s not the only or even the most important theme when considering the person and work of Jesus Christ. Comer’s approach is all about the way Jesus’s earthly ministry provides an example or pattern to imitate. When the Jesus-as-pattern theme is emphasized at the expense of everything else, it obscures the biblical reality that our first and primary need is a Savior rather than a moral teacher. The Bible teaches that “everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God” (1 John 5:1), the implication being that those who haven’t “been born of God” do not and cannot believe that Jesus is the Christ and thus cannot enjoy any spiritual growth at all. For example, Gandhi may have learned from Christ’s moral example, but by all accounts, he was never converted, and he died in his sins. Scripture Sidelined The Reformation was, in large part, a recovery of Word-based piety. The reformers insisted that deep, sustained engagement with God’s Word is the key driver of spiritual growth. They also taught that any means of spiritual formation must be derived from and dependent on Scripture. Thus, many spiritual practices that medieval people might have found useful were scrapped in favor of the biblical simplicity reflected in Psalm 119:9: “How can a young man keep his way pure? By guarding it according to your word.” Comer lists Scripture as one of the “nine core practices” that you must incorporate into your personal “Rule of Life” (181). He also states, “Scripture is the primary way we are ‘transformed by the renewing of [our] mind’” (186). So what’s the problem? First, Scripture intake isn’t one among many practices to be “utilized by an apprentice of Jesus for formation” (181). Rather, it is the means through which we commune with God. As Herman Bavinck notes, “Scripture is the ongoing rapport between heaven and earth.” In contrast, Comer labels “more Bible study” as a “losing strategy” and states that “church attendance, good sermons, and regular Bible study . . . have a very poor track record of yielding a high level of transformation in large numbers of people” (86–87). On the one hand, he states that sermons and Bible study are “more than good, essential” (86). But he also says that on their own they’re “wildly insufficient” to promote spiritual growth (87). The medieval church would have said positive things about Scripture and allowed a place for it in spiritual formation. But, like Comer, medieval authorities also maintained that the Word on its own isn’t enough. For them, the real interest, excitement, and efficacy are found in a host of other spiritual practices. For Reformation-minded Christians, God’s Word is always at the center of our piety, both as the key driver of transformation and as the blueprint for our pursuit of spiritual growth. Incoherent Theology Comer’s method in Practicing the Way is theologically promiscuous. He mingles sources from wildly different theological traditions—many mutually incompatible—without acknowledging the tension. While occasionally Comer cites thinkers in the Reformed tradition, like Tim Keller, Rosaria Butterfield, and Tim Chester, he more frequently turns to Roman Catholics (Teresa of Ávila, Ignatius of Loyola, Henri Nouwen), Eastern Orthodox writers (Kallistos Ware, Kallistos Katafygiotis), Quaker mystics (Thomas Kelly), and even a non-Christian spiritualist (Kahlil Gibran). He presents these highly heterogeneous teachers collectively as “masters of the Way of Jesus” (47). The implication is that all these different “spiritual masters” (43) are heading down the same path and toward similar conclusions. That’s simply not the case. For example, at one point he quotes a Catholic writer who mentions the “Blessed Sacrament,” a term that Comer explains as referring to “what Protestants call ‘the Lord’s Supper’” (42). Yet a differing view on the sacraments was at the heart of disagreements during the Reformation. Then, on the same page, Comer quotes Kelly on the topic. Yet the Quakers are notoriously one of the only groups in the Christian tradition to eschew the outward observance of the Lord’s Supper altogether. Comer never suggests there could be any serious conflict among his assembled “spiritual masters of the Way” (43). For Reformation-minded Christians, God’s Word is always at the center of our piety. The result of Comer’s eclecticism is a vision for spiritual formation that doesn’t align with any existing, recognizable stream of historic Christianity. Consider Comer’s high praise for Ware’s Eastern Orthodox spirituality. With reference to Ware’s influential book The Orthodox Way, Comer says, “When I read this absolutely wonderful book, it felt like coming home” (237). Yet Comer’s Practicing the Way lacks, among other things, a substantial reverence for icons, due esteem for Mary as the Theotokos, and a real priesthood standing in apostolic continuity with Jesus himself—all key elements of Eastern Orthodox spirituality. Moreover, if he genuinely felt like he was “coming home” while reading The Orthodox Way, why hasn’t he been received into the Orthodox Church? In part, it seems that identifying consistently with one tradition would hamper Comer’s a la carte approach to spiritual formation. Cafeteria Approach Comer’s overall vision for the Christian life is a pick-what-works-for-you approach. It’s not that he’s a secret Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox proponent hiding things from his readers. Rather, his cafeteria approach is inherently unstable and doesn’t sit comfortably within any established Christian tradition. A Reformed approach to spiritual formation, by contrast, flows out of a consistent commitment to the Bible and the Bible alone as the ultimate rule of faith and practice. That rigorous grounding in the Word provides a consistency and a coherence that has proven durable over many centuries. Insofar as the Reformed tradition has rightly understood Scripture, Practicing the Way represents a serious deviation from a biblical understanding of spiritual formation. As evidenced by Comer’s downplaying of regeneration and union with Christ, an approach to spiritual formation that isn’t anchored to Scripture will drift with whatever theological currents seem attractive at the moment. Perhaps Comer and others are dissatisfied with evangelicalism’s Reformation heritage and wish to reject it. That’s their decision. But they should clearly identify and own that decision.