Every once in a while, I hear someone describe a person as a “good Christian,” and I find myself wondering what they mean. Sometimes it sounds like they are describing a personality, not a disciple. Other times it sounds like a soft compliment for behavior they approve of. Recently, I heard someone say a church “did not feel Christian enough,” and it made me pause. Since when did Christian become a feeling we get from a service and not a description of the people God has redeemed? It reminded me of something C. S. Lewis wrote about words drifting away from reality. They stop describing truth and start expressing our approval or disappointment. It is a quiet shift, but it shapes how we see ourselves, our churches, and even our faith.
In Mere Christianity, Lewis warns that some words lose their meaning over time. A word that once pointed to something true slowly becomes a way of praising or blaming. Instead of describing a clear reality, it becomes a stand-in for how we feel in the moment. Lewis was talking about moral language, but the problem shows up everywhere, especially in the way we speak about spiritual things.
Words like Christian and Church were meant to tell the truth about who we are. They were identity words, anchored in Scripture and shaped by God. Yet over time, we have used them for something else. We have turned Christian into a way of saying “I like that” and Church into a way of saying “that fits my preference.” When descriptive words lose their descriptive meaning, we end up confusing conviction with comfort.
When the believers in Antioch were first called Christians, it was not a compliment. It was a description of their allegiance. It marked a people who followed Jesus, lived according to His teaching, and belonged to His name. Today, the word often serves a very different purpose. We call someone a “good Christian” because we enjoy their personality. We say someone is “not being Christian” because they made a decision we disagree with. In moments like these, our preferences slip into the definition, and the word becomes something soft and sentimental instead of something clear and costly.
The danger is that we begin to think discipleship is nothing more than being pleasant. Niceness becomes holiness. Agreeableness becomes obedience. A gentle personality replaces a surrendered life. When Christian becomes a compliment, we lose the very calling the word was meant to describe.
The same drift happens with the word Church. Scripture presents the Church as a people God has redeemed, a household built together in Christ, and a body joined by His Spirit. But often we speak of church as if it lives in the realm of preference. We describe a place as a “good church” because it fits our style or makes us feel a certain way. We describe another as “not church enough” because it challenges us or feels unfamiliar. Slowly, Church stops being a people and becomes a product. Something we review instead of something we belong to.
Lewis would say that when a descriptive word becomes praise or blame, it can no longer help us see clearly. And that is exactly what happens. When Church becomes a mood, unity becomes fragile. When Church becomes a brand, mission becomes optional. When Church becomes a feeling, belonging becomes shallow.
All of this matters because the way we use words shapes the way we see ourselves. If Christian is sentimental, we will settle for a sentimental discipleship. If Church is a vibe, we will treat it like entertainment instead of community. A blurred identity leads to a blurred witness. And a blurred witness has very little power to show Christ to the world.
Maybe Lewis is nudging us back toward something simpler and truer. Maybe the invitation is to let Christian describe who we follow and to let Church describe the people God is forming. Maybe these words can become solid again, rooted in Scripture instead of preference, truth instead of feeling.
Perhaps the first step is just to let our words mean something true again.
Just a thought.