ARE YOU A "JESUS AND" PERSON? | Jeanne Mayo

April 30th, 2026

Let me start with a question that may sound a little strange—yet it has the power to uncover something deeply formative in our lives as leaders and followers of Christ:
Are you a “Jesus and” person?

Most of us would answer quickly and confidently: Of course not. We know the “right” theology. We believe we are saved by grace through faith. We affirm that forgiveness, acceptance, and relationship with God come through Jesus Christ alone.

And yet—if we slow down, peel back the layers, and honestly examine our lives—we may discover that at different stages of our journey, many of us quietly drift into becoming “Jesus and” people without even realizing it.

The Subtle Trap of “Faith in Christ… And”

C.S. Lewis captured this danger brilliantly in The Screwtape Letters. In that book, the devil instructs his protégé on one of the most effective ways to undermine a believer’s faith—not by denying Christ outright, but by encouraging addition.

Faith in Christ and our achievements.

Faith in Christ and financial security.

Faith in Christ and our reputation.

Faith in Christ and ministry success.

Finish the sentence any way you want.

This trap works because it sounds harmless—even faithful. We don’t consciously deny Jesus. Instead, we subtly begin to treat Him as necessary but not sufficient. Over time, our sense of worth and security becomes anchored not solely in Christ, but in something we’re adding alongside Him.

For leaders especially, this drift is dangerously easy. Titles change. Roles rotate. Influence fluctuates. Recognition comes and goes. And when those things begin to function as emotional grounding points, we may find ourselves asking an uncomfortable question:

What am I really adding to Jesus to feel good enough?

When Anchors Are Tested

Seasons of loss and transition have a way of revealing where our true anchor lies. It’s one thing to preach that “Jesus is enough.” It’s another thing to live that truth when something precious is taken away.

Scripture tells us in Colossians 2:10 that we are “complete in Him.” Many of us can quote that verse. Some of us even build ministries around it. But when grief enters the room—when titles, people, or security are removed—we discover whether Jesus has been our foundation, or merely part of a larger support system we didn’t even realize we’d built.

There comes a moment for every leader when Christ gently asks, Was that ever really your completeness? Or was I?

And that realization can be painful—but it’s also profoundly freeing.

The Role of Emotional Addictions

At the heart of most “Jesus and” living is something deeper than theology. It often flows from what might be called an emotional addiction.

Now, if the word addiction feels strong to you, feel free to substitute emotional vulnerability. The question still stands:

What do you need a little too much?
For some, it’s approval.
For others, it’s performance.
For some, it’s control, security, belonging, or being needed.

Often these attachments aren’t sinful in themselves. Relationships, ministry, success, and stability are good gifts. The danger arises when those gifts begin to bear the weight that only Christ was meant to carry.

Many leaders discover that their emotional addiction is pleasing people. When affirmation disappears or criticism grows louder, it can shake our sense of wholeness far more than we’d like to admit. The problem isn’t the critics—it’s the volume we give them compared to the voice of Jesus.

What Are You Really After?

To uncover what we’ve added to Jesus, we have to ask an even deeper question:

What am I really after at my core?

Is it success?
Approval?
A sense of family?
Security?
Healing from a wound we never fully name?

Often, these longings trace themselves back to unfinished stories—places in our lives where something essential felt missing. And when Christ isn’t consciously trusted to meet those needs, we instinctively look elsewhere.

That’s why ministry success, relationships, finances, or recognition can quietly become substitutes—functional stand-ins for God’s sufficiency.

Functional Saviors and Idol Factories

Martin Luther once said something profoundly unsettling:

“Whatever your heart continues to seek after—that is really your god, your functional savior.”

Not necessarily what you say is most important. But what you keep chasing—consciously or unconsciously.

John Calvin was just as honest, if not more so, when he wrote:

“The human heart is an idol-making factory.”

Our hearts are relentlessly creative when it comes to replacing God with something more controllable, more visible, or more affirming in the moment.

This doesn’t make us failures. It makes us human. And that’s why the gospel continually calls us back—not to shame, but to clarity.

Complete in Him—As Leaders

Paul modeled this clarity beautifully. Whether he was abased or abounding, praised or persecuted, Paul refused to become a “Jesus and” person. His completeness wasn’t up for negotiation—because it didn’t depend on circumstances.

That’s challenging in a performance-driven world, and even more so in a performance-driven church culture. The temptation to attach our identity to results, influence, approval, or numbers is real.

But Christ keeps inviting us to remember:

Your acceptance is not Jesus and your ministry size.
Not Jesus and your paycheck.
Not Jesus and your title.

You are complete in Him.

The Empty Chair That Wasn’t Empty

One of the most powerful illustrations of this truth comes from a simple, unforgettable story.

An old man, dying of cancer, struggled for most of his life to understand prayer. One day, a friend suggested something unusual: place an empty chair in front of you, imagine Jesus sitting there, and simply talk to Him.

The idea felt awkward—but it changed everything.

Whenever the pain grew intense, the man spoke to Jesus. When fear crept in, he spoke to Jesus. When sleep wouldn’t come, he spoke to Jesus. The chair became a tangible reminder that Christ was not distant, abstract, or unavailable—He was present.

After the man passed away, his daughter found him resting his head against that chair. He died leaning into the presence that had carried him through his final days.

Pull Up a Chair

Here’s the invitation for all of us—especially leaders:

When you feel the pull to add something to Jesus, pull up a chair instead.