Jesus Never Preached Individualism — So Why Do We?
Why true salvation is communal, not just personal.
I had exactly ten minutes. Ten minutes to be alone, to escape into a cool bath while the August heat turned our tiny apartment into a slow cooker.
Eleven months pregnant (or at least that’s how it felt), with a one-year-old who had spent the entire afternoon terrorizing our absurdly patient 11-year-old cat — I was done. Cooked. Crispy. I just needed a moment to disappear.
I had ten minutes to close my eyes and breathe, to disappear into the water and pretend the world was just me, the sound of my own breath, and the scent of lavender epsom salts.
And then, the creak of the bathroom door.
Tiny feet on tile.
And a voice: “Don’t worry, Mama. It’s okay. I found you.”
Because, of course, if I wasn’t with him, I must be lost.
I opened my eyes. My two-year-old son beamed as if he had saved me. He climbed right in. And there we were, together. Tied. Enmeshed.
“Where You Go, I Will Go”
This isn’t just a poetic sentiment; it’s biblical. The story of Ruth and Naomi is often told as one of loyalty and love. But it’s also a tale of two women whose destinies are completely entwined. When Ruth tells Naomi, Where you go, I will go. Your people will be my people, she’s not making a polite promise. She’s saying, I have no future apart from you. My survival is wrapped up in yours.
Jesus, too, makes this clear when he gives us the Greatest Commandment: Love your neighbour as yourself.
Not like yourself. Not in addition to yourself. But as yourself.
As if your neighbour’s well-being is your own.
Because it is.
But in a world that champions individualism and self-sufficiency, it’s easy to forget that. It’s easy to believe that if I have enough — enough money, enough faith, enough luck — then I’m good. Safe. #Blessed.
Except, that’s not how it works.
The Lie of Individual Salvation
We see it everywhere. People who call themselves Christians while ignoring systemic injustice. People who pray for peace but refuse to disrupt oppression. People who claim to love Jesus but have no patience for the people he loved—the poor, the immigrant, the queer, the incarcerated, the unhoused.
And I get it. It’s exhausting to think about how deeply we are all connected. It’s so much easier to believe that if we’re kind enough, faithful enough, hardworking enough, God will reward us. We will be saved.
But salvation is not an escape plan. It’s not a VIP ticket to heaven. It’s not a solo endeavour.
When we declare that Black lives matter, when we march for Indigenous land rights, when we demand an end to poverty wages — these are not acts of charity. They are acts of life and death. They are the recognition that our liberation is bound up in one another. That if my neighbour is hungry, if my neighbour is imprisoned, if my neighbour is cast out, then my own salvation is still incomplete. My soul is on the line as well.
The Call to Communal Salvation
At my church, every week, we make a series of acknowledgments: that we are an affirming congregation, that we are committed to anti-racism, that we are on Indigenous land. And it is not just lip service. It is a declaration that our wholeness, our freedom, our salvation — individually and collectively — depends on the well-being of everyone.
Everyone.
Even the neighbour who annoys you. Even the person who hurt you. Even the ones we’d rather write off.
If salvation is communal, then so is accountability. So is justice. So is love.
The Erosion of Collective Values in Modern Policies
In recent times, we’ve witnessed policies that starkly contrast the biblical call for communal care. The Trump administration’s aggressive stance against Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives serves as a poignant example. By targeting DEI policies, revoking protections for transgender individuals, and challenging affirmative action, there’s a clear shift away from fostering inclusive communities. These actions not only undermine the progress made towards equality but also erode the foundational belief that our destinies are interconnected. When leaders prioritize divisive rhetoric over unity, it becomes imperative for communities of faith to reaffirm their commitment to collective well-being and justice for all.
Upholding the Commandment in Divisive Times
The Greatest Commandment — to love your neighbour as yourself — calls for active engagement, especially when policies threaten those who are most vulnerable. Followers of this commandment must challenge actions that sow division and stand firm in our dedication to communal care. This means advocating for policies that uplift everyone, recognizing that our freedom is intrinsically linked to the freedom of others. In times of societal fracture, our commitment to love and justice becomes the beacon that guides us back to the path of collective salvation.
The Web of Salvation Includes More Than Just Our Friends
It’s easy to see how my life is tied to my son’s. He depends on me for everything — food, safety, bedtime stories, reminders that no, we do not put raisins in the DVD player. His needs are my needs. His joy, my joy. That kind of connection is obvious.
Just ask JD Vance.
But what about the neighbour I barely know? The person who cut me off in traffic? The refugee mother halfway across the world, trying to keep her baby safe just like I am? It’s harder to feel tied with them, to see their survival as bound up with mine. But Jesus, in all his maddening wisdom, keeps pushing us there — beyond the easy, beyond the comfortable, beyond the people we already love. Because if we only fight for the freedom of those who feel like us, we’ve missed the whole point — love that stops at the borders of our comfort isn’t love at all.
That day, in the bathtub, I wanted nothing more than to be alone. But I was found. I was pulled back into the messy, complicated, beautiful reality of interdependence.
Ruth and Naomi took that journey together, their survival tied to one another. And we are all on that same road. We are bound together in longing, in struggle, and in love.
If we want to be free, we have to fight for the freedom of others. If we want to be whole, we have to make sure our neighbours are whole, too.
Because together is all we’ve got.
Hi! 👋🏼 I’m Rev. Bri-anne. You can also find me on BlueSky🦋, serving the fine folks of East End United Regional Ministry🏳️⚧️ ✝️ 🏳️🌈, or leading the Resistance Church digital community.
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