Which Version of Christianity Are You Living?

In Acts 18, Paul and Apollos are both declaring that Jesus is the Messiah. Same message. Same Bible. Same word—Messiah. But not everyone means the same thing when they say that word.

Back then, many of the Jewish people believed the Messiah would be a political leader. Someone who’d reorganise the world so it better suited them. Someone who’d make their nation great again. They had a framework, based on Daniel and other Scriptures, where “Messiah” meant the one who would take power and put them in charge. So when Paul talked about Jesus as Messiah—and when he didn’t fit their expectations—they saw it as heresy. They took him to court. But Gallio, the Roman governor, waved it away. “It’s just a dispute about words and your own law,” he said.

But it wasn’t just about words.

They were living in the wrong story. And they’d ended up with the wrong Messiah.

And I reckon we do exactly the same thing.

We still use the right words—Jesus, Gospel, Church, Salvation—but we’re not always living in the right story. We’ve ended up with different versions of Christianity. And some of them aren’t Christianity at all.

We live in a culture that constantly tells us to put ourselves at the centre. Be true to yourself. Choose your own path. Follow your heart. And if you’ve got a bit of space left over, you can add in some religion. The danger is, we bring that same story into our faith. And when we do, we end up with a version of Christianity that’s about us, not Jesus.

So what version of Christianity are you living?

There’s the prosperity version, where Jesus is supposed to bless your finances, your health, your career—so long as you’ve got enough faith. It’s a deal: you give him what he wants, he gives you what you want.

There’s the traditional version, where we think real faith is about keeping everything the way it used to be. Whatever we did 50 years ago must be what God wants now.

There’s the fire insurance version, where Christianity is just about making sure you get to heaven when you die. You say the prayer, you get the ticket, and that’s it.

There’s the legalistic version, where you have to prove you’re a good person. You follow all the rules and hope it’s enough.

And there’s the self-actualisation version, where Jesus becomes your life coach. He’s there to help you achieve your goals and be your best self.

But in all of those versions, the focus shifts. Jesus becomes a means to an end. And the end is you.

That’s not the story the Bible is telling.

To understand who Jesus is, we have to start at the beginning. The first few chapters of Genesis tell us the story we’re actually in. God creates the world and it’s good. Humans are made to be in relationship with him—to reflect his image, to represent him on earth. But then evil enters the picture.

And what’s the first thing evil does?

It shifts the focus. The serpent’s whole strategy is to take our eyes off God and put them on ourselves. That’s the real spiritual battle—who’s going to be at the centre of your life? Whose view of reality are you going to trust?

When Adam and Eve choose their way over God’s way, everything breaks. Their relationship with God, with each other, with themselves, and with creation—it all fractures. Shame enters the world. Blame enters the world. The world becomes harder, more chaotic.

But even in that moment, God makes a promise. In Genesis 3:15, he says that someone is coming—a descendant of the woman—who will crush the head of the serpent. Evil will strike his heel, but he will strike its head. That’s the first glimpse of the Messiah.

From that moment on, the Bible is building that story.

God calls Abraham and says, “Through you, all the families of the earth will be blessed.” But again, we’ve twisted even that promise. Some people treat it like a recipe for personal gain. “If I give to Israel, I’ll be blessed.” We’ve turned the Bible into a tool for self-advancement. But God wasn’t choosing a people so they could be on top. He was choosing a people who would represent him. Who would bless the world.

In Genesis 49, we hear about a scepter—a sign of kingship—that will come from the tribe of Judah. Later, God promises David that one of his descendants will rule forever. The Messiah is going to be a king. But not like any king they expected.

Moses also said a prophet would come—one like him, but greater. Someone who would speak God’s truth and reveal what’s real.

Isaiah spoke of a light breaking into darkness. A child who would be called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. A light not just for Israel but for all nations.

The Messiah was always going to be more than a political figure. He would be King. Prophet. Light. God himself.

But then comes the part we’d rather skip.

The Messiah would suffer.

Psalm 22 gives us a vivid picture of crucifixion—written hundreds of years before Jesus. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus quotes it from the cross. It’s a cry of pain—but it ends in victory. “The whole earth will acknowledge the Lord and return to him.”

Isaiah 53 takes it further: He was despised and rejected… pierced for our rebellion… crushed for our sins… and by his wounds, we are healed.

This King, this Prophet, this Light—he wins by laying down his life.

Even Daniel gives us a timeline. In chapter 9, he speaks of an anointed one who will come and be killed—“appearing to have accomplished nothing.” But that moment changes everything.

So when Paul talked about Jesus as the Messiah, he wasn’t inventing something new. He was pointing back to the whole story. The story of a Messiah who would defeat evil, rule with justice, reveal truth, shine light, suffer deeply, and offer grace.

That’s the version of Christianity Paul was living.

But not everyone was.

And we need to be honest: neither are we, always.

We’re tempted by the versions that put us back at the centre. Versions that feel easier, more comfortable. Versions where Jesus is here to serve our plans.

But true Christianity doesn’t begin with us. It begins with Jesus. The real Jesus.

Not the one shaped by our culture or preferences. Not the one we carry in our head that’s too small. The Jesus of the Scriptures. The Jesus who is King and Light and Prophet and Servant. The Jesus who rewrites the story we’re living in.

So here’s the question we all have to face:

Is Jesus actually in charge of your life?

Or is he just a mascot for your own agenda?

Because the true gospel isn’t about finding a version of Christianity that suits you. It’s about surrendering to the Messiah who is so much more than you imagined—and discovering real life in him.