It’s Not About You: Living the True Story of Jesus

What Colossians 2 teaches us about apprenticeship, identity, and the lie of self-centered faith

Many of us grew up hearing what became known as the Four Spiritual Laws. They were developed by Bill Bright, a man trained in marketing, and they go something like this:

1. God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life.
2. All of us sin and our sin separates us from God.
3. Jesus Christ is God’s only provision for our sin.
4. We must individually receive Him as Savior and Lord.

Now hear me—there’s truth in all those statements. But hidden in the packaging is what I believe to be a smuggled heresy. It’s subtle. And it sounds like good news. But it’s not the real gospel.

The smuggled heresy is this: It’s all about you.

That’s what we’ve built much of our modern faith around. It’s a version of Christianity that centers your needs, your dreams, your problems. And when that becomes the focus, we shrink the gospel down to a tool for self-fulfillment. We make it about getting Jesus to orbit around us—instead of surrendering our lives to Him.

If you said to Paul, “Hey, I preached the gospel because I told someone those four points,” I think he’d look you in the eye and say, “You’ve missed it.”

Because for Paul, the gospel isn’t a formula. It isn’t a step-by-step plan. It’s a person.

Jesus is Lord.

That’s it. That’s the gospel. And it changes everything—not just how we get to heaven, but how we live here and now.

We need to come to terms with something uncomfortable: the version of Christianity many of us inherited was designed to solve our problems, not to enthrone Jesus.

Now don’t get me wrong—Jesus does bring healing and hope. And in the light of His Lordship, your deepest problems do find resolution. But He isn’t here to be your mascot. He isn’t here to orbit your crises.

He’s not centered around your problems.

He is here to be Lord.

The Greek word Paul uses—kyrios—means someone in authority. A superior addressing an inferior. Someone who has the right to tell you what to do.

That’s the heart of it. The gospel isn’t about fitting Jesus into your story.

It’s about realigning your whole life with His story.

Colossians 2 begins with Paul expressing how deeply he’s agonized over people he’s never even met. That’s what spiritual leadership looks like. A good leader feels the weight of those they lead.

Paul then lays out three things he wants for them:

1. That they’d be encouraged.
2. That they’d be knit together in love.
3. That they’d have complete confidence in Christ.

That phrase knit together is beautiful. And it brings back a memory.

When I was six or seven, I tried knitting a scarf. Barbie kept trying to teach me—she’s quite good at it—but mine started really wide and ended up really narrow. Something went wrong. But I’ll never forget the picture. Knitting takes individual strands and loops them tightly into something whole. That’s Paul’s vision for the church. That we wouldn’t just attend together—but be knit together.

It’s messy. It hurts sometimes. But it’s what we’re called to.

And it’s radically countercultural.

Our world teaches us to be individuals. To “stay true to ourselves.” To be the authors of our own story. And that mindset has bled into Christianity. It’s created a version of faith that says: as long as I feel connected to God in my private world, I’m good.

But Paul says otherwise.

We are not solo believers. We are a body. And to be a body, we must be joined—not just to Jesus, but to each other. And when that happens, it’s not about clever church techniques or impressive programs.

Church is a work of the Holy Spirit, not about our techniques or cleverness.

There’s a man by the name of Leslie Newbigin who changed how many Christians understood mission. He spent 40 years as a missionary in India, then returned to England and realized the West had become a mission field too.

He said that being fully human as God intends is to be part of the true story.

Newbigin’s warning was this: people who reject the gospel aren’t evil—they just believe a different story. But the real tragedy is when Christians get sucked into those stories instead of living the one true story centered on Jesus.

He said the clues to that story are given in the Bible, and the hinge of meaning is the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

In other words: the gospel isn’t just how you get saved. It’s the meaning of history.

So Paul says, “Let your roots go down into Him.” He’s pulling on an image from Psalm 1 and Jeremiah—a tree planted by water that still bears fruit even in drought.

Let your story be buried in His story. When it is, your circumstances won’t define you. Your emotions won’t drive you.

Jesus will define your life.

He continues, “Let your lives be built on Him.”

Jesus isn’t a brick in your wall—He’s the cornerstone of a different building altogether.

You’re not fitting Him into your project. You’re joining His.

Our culture preaches a gospel too. And it’s loud.

The fundamental gospel of our world is that you are the center of the universe, and that you should have integrity by doing what feels right to you.

But that’s just not true. That message doesn’t lead to life. It leads to anxiety, confusion, and isolation. Why?

Because if we’re honest, our inner world is a mess. Who we are changes depending on hormones, sleep, stress, or whether someone cut us off in traffic.

The fundamental truth of our gospel is that Jesus is the center of the universe, and He can be trusted a lot more than you.

The truth is, your story only makes sense when it’s aligned with His.

And in all the places where your story is still your story, you’ll find bewilderment and pain.

Paul gives a warning in Colossians 2: “Don’t let anyone capture you with empty philosophies and high-sounding nonsense that come from human thinking and the spiritual powers of this world.”

That’s strong language.

Behind the modern obsession with personal truth, behind the impulse to “think things through for yourself” and dismiss God’s way of seeing the world—there are spiritual forces at work.

This is the story of Genesis 3. The serpent didn’t tempt Adam and Eve to sin outright. He tempted them to trust their own eyes instead of God’s word.

The same temptation is alive today. And behind it, Paul says, are dark forces. Forces that want to keep you in the center of your story. Forces that dress up as logic, self-empowerment, even religion.

Being a Christian doesn’t mean giving up your mind. But it does mean surrendering your story.

Author Glenn Scrivner says that modern Western culture is trying to keep the kingdom without the King. We love Christian values—equality, compassion, freedom—but we don’t want the Christ who gives them their meaning.

As Johnny Cash sang, “They say they want the kingdom, but they don’t want God in it.”

So we replace Jesus with values. But here’s the problem:

Values can’t forgive you. Only a person can.

Try a thought experiment. Think of what a “good person” looks like. Now ask: can you even live up to your own definition?

We can’t even meet our own standards, let alone God’s.

But Jesus didn’t come with a rulebook. He came as a person—a person who loves you, who forgives you, who laid down His life so you could live.

Paul says in verse 10, “You are complete through your union with Christ.”

The word he uses—“complete”—literally means filled.

And the truth is, most of us feel like we’re running on empty. We know there are gaps. So we try to fill them with all kinds of things: relationships, success, busyness, distraction.

But an idol is anything you look to to fill the gap that only Jesus can fill.

And the more we rely on idols, the more anxious and hollow we become.

You’re not complete because you’ve finally got your act together.

You’re complete because of what Jesus did on the cross, how much He loves you, and the life He’s calling you into.

You find you in Him. Not apart from Him.

That’s why baptism matters so much.

Sometimes we downplay it, but Paul reminds us: baptism is the symbol that says, “My life is no longer my own.” When you go down under the water, you die to your story. When you come up, you rise into His.

You don’t just give Him 10%. You give Him everything.

And if you’ve already done that—then here’s the question:

Are you willing to lay your life down again?

Because it’s possible to go to church, be on rosters, sing the songs—and still not be rooted in Him. It’s possible to follow the rules and miss the person.

So lay it down again. Re-surrender. Re-align.

He is Lord. And in Him, your life starts to make sense.

When your roots go deep into Jesus and your life is built on Him, something changes.

You become thankful.

You start to see His fingerprints even in the mess. You stop needing to control everything. You begin to say, “Thanks, Jesus—I see You at work.”

It’s not a one-time event. It’s a process. And it’s not about having it all together. None of us do.

But when Jesus is at the center—not you—you can finally breathe.

You can finally rest.

You can finally live.

So whose story are you living by?