Christianity is the world’s largest religion, with somewhere near 2.4 billion people—roughly 30 percent of the earth’s population—professing to follow Jesus Christ. But even in Jesus’ own day, many people followed Him, yet not all were His disciples.
Jesus expressed this reality when He said, “Many are called, but few are chosen,” and illustrated it in the Parable of the Sower. The seed is the Word of God, and whether it takes root and produces mature fruit depends upon the condition of the soil upon which it falls.
He taught that “the enemy” would sow tares among the wheat, the two growing together, nearly indistinguishable from one another till harvest.
It can be just as difficult to distinguish between those who do His will and those just going through the motions. They often appear very much alike and may not be fully separated until the Day of Judgment, when “the righteous will shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father.”
“Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven,” Jesus said.
So, then, what is a real Christian? How do we distinguish the wheat from the tares? More importantly, how do we know whether we ourselves are truly disciples of Christ?
The answer is astonishingly simple.
It is not ultimately determined by creed or doctrine, by denomination or church affiliation. It is not merely a matter of profession, nor of faith or works alone. Jesus said, “By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” Luke records an encounter in which a lawyer asked Jesus, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” Few questions could be more important.
Jesus answered: “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” When the lawyer then asked, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus answered with the parable of the Good Samaritan:
“A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, who stripped him of his clothing, wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a certain priest came down that road. And when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. Likewise a Levite, when he arrived at the place, came and looked, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was. And when he saw him, he had compassion.”
Jesus then told the lawyer, “Go and do likewise.” One of the most beautiful passages in all of Scripture appears in Matthew 25, where Jesus describes the final judgment:
“When the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the holy angels with Him, then He will sit on the throne of His glory. All the nations will be gathered before Him, and He will separate them one from another, as a shepherd divides his sheep from the goats.”
The King welcomes the righteous because: “I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.”
The righteous are astonished: “Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink?”
And the King answers: “Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.”
That is a remarkable statement.
When we stand before our Creator, He will not ask which church we attended, how many programs we built, how many conferences we hosted, or how many missions we funded. He will ask us how faithfully we put love into action by serving others. Christ Himself “did not come to be served, but to serve.” He “emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant.” He said, “I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”
James, the brother of Jesus, later wrote: “Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.” This principle applies not only to individuals but also to nations.
The prophets repeatedly warned that God judges entire societies according to how they treat the vulnerable— the poor, the widow, the orphan, the stranger, and the oppressed. While the phrase “little ones” is especially associated with Jesus, the Old Testament establishes the same principle: societies that neglect or exploit the defenseless invite judgment.
Isaiah pleaded with his nation:
“Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; Put away the evil of your doings from before My eyes. Cease to do evil, Learn to do good; Seek justice, Rebuke the oppressor; Defend the fatherless, Plead for the widow.”
Jeremiah urged swift and timely justice, echoing our nation’s own Sixth Amendment’s right to a speedy and impartial trial: “Execute judgment in the morning; And deliver him who is plundered out of the hand of the oppressor, Lest My fury go forth like fire and burn so that no one can quench it.”
The prophet understood that delayed justice is denied justice.
Thomas Aquinas wrote, “Justice without mercy is cruelty, and mercy without justice is the mother of dissolution.” Biblical justice requires both truth and compassion. It demands that we restore what has been broken and defend those who cannot defend themselves.
C.S. Lewis likewise observed, “There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.” Every widow, every orphan, every prisoner, and every victim, possesses an eternal significance. The “least of these” are not abstractions. They are fathers estranged from their children, mothers separated from their families, young people driven into despair, and ordinary people whose names, livelihoods, and reputations have been destroyed.
Years ago, a young man walked into our coffeehouse after being placed on suicide watch during the COVID era. The policies imposed upon children had left him hopeless. By simply giving him a voice and allowing him to tell his story, he found renewed purpose and eventually began speaking publicly himself. One act of compassion changed the course of a life.
“And whoever gives one of these little ones only a cup of cold water in the name of a disciple, assuredly, I say to you, he shall by no means lose his reward,” said Jesus.
My own family has spent years trying to recover from the consequences of government weaponization for doing the right thing. We endured the loss of our livelihood, the destruction of our reputation, financial hardship, family estrangement, displacement from our home and community, and the lingering anxiety that follows public vilification.
But where is the Church when it counts? Why do these people continue to hope for restitution from civil government that may never come? How shameful is it that churches often stand by while people within their own communities continue to suffer for having done what they believed was right?
The American church raises its hands in praise but will not stoop to lift up the victims of weaponization right in front of them or fight to deliver those in prison. Is the church complacent in the face of the child trafficking epidemic, while monsters are protected with redaction? Do they think God will hear their hymns over the cries of the oppressed?
Amos gave a sobering warning, speaking to a deeply religious nation filled with worship services, festivals, and songs, God declared:
“I hate, I despise your feast days...Take away from Me the noise of your songs, For I will not hear the melody of your stringed instruments. But let justice run down like water, And righteousness like a mighty stream.”
God was not impressed by Israel’s worship because Israel had neglected justice.
Today, the weaponization of government has become a prominent reality in our public life. We have heard the stories of the J6 gulags, of parents whose lives and reputations were destroyed for speaking against abuses in public schools, and of countless citizens struggling to recover from injuries inflicted by their own institutions.
We hear much these days about so called Christian nationalism. Certainly, our nation was deeply influenced by Christian principles, and many of our laws and institutions reflect that inheritance. We hear pastors, priests, and public figures praise America as a “Christian nation.” But though our monuments contain biblical inscriptions, our ceremonies invoke God, and Christian “revival” brings music and raised hands, if we do not practice love, we are nothing.
C.S. Lewis warned: “A cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute.” G.K. Chesterton observed: “The worst man is not the man who does not believe in God. The worst man is the man who believes in God and does not obey Him.”
Romans 13 has sometimes been used to teach Christians that their duty is simply to submit quietly to governing authorities. But the Bible itself tells a different story. Nathan confronted David; Elijah confronted Ahab; Jeremiah rebuked kings; Esther risked her life before the throne; John the Baptist confronted Herod. The apostles declared, “We ought to obey God rather than men. Biblical submission is not servility.
Scripture mandates Christians to condemn injustice, confront oppression, and speak boldly when the vulnerable suffer. It is a strange indictment of modern Christianity that wounded people increasingly look to courts, politicians, and government agencies for mercy while churches often remain absent. As one whose own family has “suffered for righteousness’ sake” for the better part of six years, I can tell you first hand, that it’s a terrible feeling to go to a “church,” and be met with a vacant stare when you reach out for help.
Are we truly a Christian nation if we pass by on the other side? Are we truly disciples if we leave the wounded to fend for themselves? The Good Samaritan did not create a committee, organize a conference, or give self-help sermon. He did not simply tweet “thoughts and prayers.”
Until people and communities and the nation bind up the wounds of the “little ones,” until persecuted families no longer struggle with having no advocates and no help from churches, we cannot claim to be Christians, much less a Christian nation. It really is that simple.
Written by Kelly Walker
To read the full June issue of FreedomTalk on “What Makes a True Christian?”, click here.