06/07/2026
Beautiful Read, and worth a reread.
One of the most interesting verses in Acts is also one that most people read right past without giving it much thought. Acts 11:26 says, "And in Antioch the disciples were first called Christians." Because we have heard the word Christian our entire lives, it does not sound unusual to us. It is on church signs, book covers, social media profiles, coffee mugs, T-shirts, and enough decorative wall art to convince future archaeologists that our civilization communicated primarily through inspirational sayings and farmhouse décor. But when Luke wrote those words, this was something completely new. Nobody had ever been called a Christian before.
That means Peter was not originally called a Christian. John was not called a Christian. Mary was not called a Christian. The disciples were not walking around introducing themselves as Christians. The early believers had other names. They were called disciples, believers, saints, brothers and sisters, and followers of "The Way." Then something happened in Antioch that caused the people around them to start using a brand-new term. The fact that Luke specifically mentions it tells us this was a significant moment in the history of the church.
Antioch was one of the largest and most influential cities in the Roman Empire. It was crowded, wealthy, multicultural, and filled with people from every imaginable background. If Jerusalem was the center of Jewish life, Antioch was a crossroads of the world. It was also known for its sharp wit and its tendency to give people nicknames. If you stood out in Antioch, people noticed. If enough people noticed, they would probably come up with a label for you. Human nature has not changed much in two thousand years. Give people enough time and they will eventually come up with a nickname for almost anything. Antioch simply appears to have been unusually efficient at the process.
The believers in Antioch stood out because they were unlike anything people had seen before. Jews and Gentiles were worshiping together. People from different social classes were gathering together. Former pagans were sitting alongside people who had spent their lives studying the Scriptures. More importantly, they all seemed to have one thing in common. Everything revolved around Jesus. Their teaching was about Jesus. Their prayers were offered through Jesus. Their hope rested in Jesus. Their conversations kept returning to Jesus. If you spent enough time around them, you quickly realized that whatever subject you started with, eventually you were going to end up hearing about Jesus.
At some point the people of Antioch decided they needed a name for this growing movement. The word they chose was the Greek word Χριστιανός, pronounced Christianos. The first part comes from the Greek word Χριστός (Christos), meaning "Anointed One." That Greek word was itself used to translate the Hebrew word מָשִׁיחַ (Mashiach), which is where we get the word Messiah. In other words, Christ was never Jesus' last name. Joseph was not standing in line at the Roman census trying to explain that his son was "Jesus Christ of Nazareth" while a government official struggled with the paperwork. Christ is a title. It means the Anointed One, the Messiah, the promised King whom Israel had been waiting for.
The second part of the word is just as fascinating. The ending "-ianos" was commonly used throughout the Roman world to identify people who belonged to or were loyal to a particular leader. It was a way of saying, "These people belong to him." So when the people of Antioch combined Christos with that Roman suffix, they created a word that essentially meant "the people of Christ," "those who belong to Christ," or "those loyal to Christ." In everyday language, they were basically saying, "There go the Christ people again." It was a label that identified who these believers belonged to.
What makes this even more interesting is that there is a good chance it was not originally intended as a compliment. We often picture the word Christian being bestowed as some great honor from the beginning, but that may not have been the case. It may have carried a slightly sarcastic tone. It may have been dismissive. It may have been the first-century equivalent of rolling your eyes and saying, "Oh great, here come those Jesus people again." Human beings have always been remarkably creative when it comes to taking something important to someone else and turning it into a label. Apparently that tradition was already well established by the first century.
Yet the believers embraced the name. They did not reject it. They did not hold meetings to determine whether it accurately reflected their mission statement. They did not form a committee to develop alternative branding options. They accepted the name because, whether intended as an insult or not, it was true. They belonged to Christ. They were loyal to Christ. Their lives had been changed by Christ. The label fit because Jesus really was at the center of everything they did.
Years later Peter would write, "Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name." Think about that for a moment. Peter took a name that may have begun as an outsider's label and treated it as a badge of honor. Not because there was anything special about the word itself, but because of the One behind it. If suffering came because someone identified you with Christ, Peter said there was no shame in that. In fact, there was glory in it.
What strikes me most is why the name stuck. The believers were not called Christians because they occasionally attended religious services. They were not called Christians because they owned copies of Scripture. They were not called Christians because they checked a box on a census form. They were called Christians because the people around them looked at their lives and could not separate them from Christ. The connection was obvious. Their words pointed to Him. Their actions pointed to Him. Their priorities pointed to Him. Their loyalty pointed to Him. Even the people outside the church could see who they belonged to.
That should probably make us stop and think for a moment. If the people of Antioch were handed a modern list of our hobbies, interests, social media posts, conversations, spending habits, priorities, and reactions, what nickname would they come up with? Would Christ be the first thing that came to mind? Would they see enough evidence of Jesus in our lives to say, "Those are Christ's people"? Because that is where the name Christian came from. Not from a denomination. Not from a church building. Not from a political movement. Not from family tradition. Not from a cultural identity. It came from people observing believers and concluding that they belonged to Christ.
The believers in Antioch did not choose the name Christian. The world chose it for them. And perhaps that is what makes the story so powerful. The people who did not follow Jesus looked at the lives of those who did and could think of no better description than, "Those people belong to Him." Two thousand years later, that is still the heart of what the word means. A Christian is not merely someone who knows about Christ. A Christian is someone who belongs to Christ. And honestly, there are far worse things to be known for.
