Christ At The Center

Paul doesn’t begin this passage with practical advice or even spiritual encouragement. He starts with awe—with a hymn, a bold declaration of who Jesus is. Before we get to what we should do, Paul reminds us of who Christ is. This passage, Colossians 1:15–20, is considered one of the earliest confessions of faith in the church. It wasn’t written to stir emotion or serve as a poetic flourish, it was written to anchor the soul. And we need that kind of anchor today. In a world where everything seems uncertain…where values shift, where truth feels up for grabs, where even our own identities are in constant flux, we need something solid, someone unshakeable.

Too many people, even in the church, have settled for a small, sanitized version of Jesus. A pocket-sized Savior. A wise teacher, a moral example, a gentle figurehead to bless our already-made plans. But the Jesus of Scripture is none of those things. He is supreme. He is cosmic. He is not just part of the story; He is the Author of the story.

Paul writes, “He is the image of the invisible God.” That’s staggering. Think of it this way: you can’t stare directly into the sun without damaging your eyes. It’s too bright, too powerful. But if you hold up a mirror, you can see a reflection of that light. Now, Christ doesn’t merely reflect God’s character like a mirror. He is the radiance, the exact imprint. The Greek word used here is “eikon”, the same word used to describe the image stamped on a coin. Jesus is not a shadow, not a distant echo. He is the very likeness of God pressed into human flesh. Want to know what God is like? Look at Jesus. Watch Him touch the untouchable. Watch Him challenge religious hypocrisy. Watch Him carry a cross. That’s what God is like: holy, merciful, just, and shockingly full of grace.

Then Paul says, “He is the firstborn of all creation.” That can sound, at first glance, like Jesus was created—but Paul isn’t saying that. In the biblical world, “firstborn” doesn’t mean the first created; it means the one who holds the highest rank—the one with authority. It’s about status, not sequence. It’s like saying He’s the rightful heir, the one with all power and all claim. Jesus isn’t a part of creation—He is Lord over it. Think of a painter standing before a canvas. He’s not one of the brushstrokes. He’s the hand that made every stroke.

Paul doesn’t stop there. He presses deeper: “For in Him all things were created…” Everything. Every mountain peak, every grain of sand, every bird’s song, every newborn’s cry, every galaxy, every strand of DNA; it’s all His work. Creation is not random. It is art. And Christ is the artist.

And here’s the shock: not only was it made by Him, it was made for Him. You were made for Him.

That changes everything.

Paul shifts focus in verse 18 from the vast cosmos to something closer to home: the Church. He writes, “He is the head of the body, the Church.” That might sound simple at first, but don’t rush past it. Paul isn’t offering a cute analogy here, he’s describing a living reality. In any body, the head is what gives direction. It’s where the brain resides. It tells the hands what to do, the feet where to go, the heart how fast to beat. Without the head, the body is lost, disoriented and eventually lifeless.

So when Paul says Christ is the head of the Church, he’s making a bold statement: Jesus isn’t just a figurehead or a founder we remember with sentiment. He is the living authority of the Church. The Church doesn’t belong to us; it belongs to Him. That means we don’t get to treat it like a club we join or a business we run.

This has real, practical implications:

• The Church doesn’t belong to the people who’ve attended the longest.

• The pastor isn’t the CEO.

• The congregation isn’t a customer base.

• The programs aren’t the product.

The Church is a body, and Jesus is its head. And if a body is severed from its head, it doesn’t keep functioning. It doesn’t just get confused, it dies. That’s what happens when churches drift from Christ. They may keep up appearances for a while; busy calendars, nice buildings, inspirational messages—but if Christ isn’t the head, the life fades. What remains is just activity. Just motion. Not mission.

Being part of the Church also means we don’t get to center it around our personal preferences. It’s not about whether we like the music, the preaching style, or the paint color in the fellowship hall. The Church exists to reflect the glory of Jesus. Everything else...our styles, our traditions, our comforts are secondary. When Christ is truly at the center, we stop asking, “What do I want?” and start asking, “What does He want?”