In Colossians, traditionally understood to have been written by the apostle Paul, Christ is described as “the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation,” and it is said that “in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him.” This presentation of glorious majesty, apart from reflecting the reality of Christ’s lordship, seems also to have been written directly in response to what biblical scholars call the “Colossian heresy.”  

What was the Colossian heresy? It is difficult, on the basis of Paul’s letter, to be precise, though Col 2:8-23 gives us a sense of some of the practices and beliefs of this group in the city of Colossae, and there seem to be elements of Greco-Roman philosophy, Jewish practices, perhaps even incipient Gnosticism added to their belief in Christ. More significant than the precise contours of the heresy, though, is that Colossians is arguing against any system or belief that would reduce the sufficiency of Christ for salvation. As Michael Gorman writes, believers “are not to be seduced and captured by any supposed alternative or supplement to Christ that is ultimately only an empty, deceitful philosophy (worldview and practices) stemming from human tradition and, worse, from the (hostile) elemental powers of the universe, not from God’s revelation in Christ” (Apostle of the Crucified Lord, p. 485).

Colossians is not an argument against philosophy but an argument for Jesus Christ, “for in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.” The teaching of the sufficiency of Christ, and the cross of Jesus Christ, for salvation means that no secondary lords are necessary, which the Colossian heresy seems to have on offer. To say Christ is lord of all means precisely that. It does not mean he is lord when it suits my personal desires, or combined with some other gods, or when it suits my country, right or wrong. 

Why should an ancient, vaguely defined Colossian heresy engage us today? Because every heretical impulse is ancient and vague, promising us a little of this politician, a little of that god, a little less Christ, a little more us. We are all challenged to decide daily, and never more than in the midst of political campaigns, who and what we accept as lord. Biblical scholars today see more of a theo-political aspect to Paul’s thinking than previous generations did, not in terms of Paul wanting to get mixed up in day-to-day politics of the Roman Empire but in terms of seeing the Lord Jesus Christ as the true alternative to political leaders, emperors, who would be lords of this world. But Paul was clear that there is only one Lord, in this world and the next.

How does one apply the rhetoric of “lord of heaven and earth” to daily life, political and otherwise? Rhetorically, and in reality, it seems too majestic to apply to our lives, but its application comes in the nitty-gritty of daily life. Jesus gives us the example in the parable of the good Samaritan. It is in the acting out of God’s love for each creature that we show whom we serve. Our political lives, seeking the good of the city of man, are felt most profoundly when we help the neighbor in need. This is how we demonstrate Christ is lord of earth. But in caring for our earthly neighbor and acting out God’s love, we are also building up the city of God, and showing that Christ is lord of heaven.  When we live for love of God and love of neighbor, we show that Christ is “the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything.” That is always the answer to the Colossian heresy in any age: Christ has the first place in everything.

This article appears in July 4-11 2016.

John W. Martens is an associate professor of theology at the University of St. Thomas, St. Paul, Minn,where he teaches early Christianity and Judaism. He also directs the Master of Arts in Theology program at the St. Paul Seminary School of Divinity. He was born in Vancouver, B.C. into a Mennonite family that had decided to confront modernity in an urban setting. His post-secondary education began at Tabor College, Hillsboro, Kansas, came to an abrupt stop, then started again at Vancouver Community College, where his interest in Judaism and Christianity in the earliest centuries emerged. He then studied at St. Michael's College, University of Toronto, and McMaster University, with stops at University of Haifa and University of Tubingen. His writing often explores the intersection of Jewish, Christian and Greco-Roman culture and belief, such as in "let the little children come to me: Children and Childhood in Early Christianity" (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2009), but he is not beyond jumping into the intersection of modernity and ancient religion, as in "The End of the World: The Apocalyptic Imagination in Film and Television" (Winnipeg: J. Gordon Shillingford Press, 2003). He blogs at  www.biblejunkies.com and at www.americamagazine.org for "The Good Word." You can follow him on Twitter @biblejunkies, where he would be excited to welcome you to his random and obscure interests, which range from the Vancouver Canucks and Minnesota Timberwolves, to his dog, and 70s punk, pop and rock. When he can, he brings students to Greece, Turkey and Rome to explore the artifacts and landscape of the ancient world. He lives in St. Paul with his wife and has two sons. He is certain that the world will not end until the Vancouver Canucks have won the Stanley Cup, as evidence has emerged from the Revelation of John, 1 Enoch, 2 Baruch, and 4 Ezra which all point in this direction.