In Christ Alone: Colossians 2

Opening Prayer

As we turn in our Bibles to Colossians 2, let’s take a brief moment and offer this simple prayer from the Book of Common Prayer,

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Blessed Lord, who hast caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

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Introduction to Colossians 2

If Colossians 1 is a soaring declaration of Christ’s supremacy, then Colossians 2 is a deliberate call to stay grounded in Him. Paul shifts from doxology to discipleship, from proclamation to protection. He writes with urgency—not to introduce something new, but to guard what has already been given.

This chapter meets the early church at a crossroads. They had received the gospel, but competing ideas were creeping in—religious rituals, human philosophy, spiritual elitism. These were not outright rejections of Christ, but subtle additions to Him. Paul sees the danger, and he speaks with pastoral clarity: Christ is not one piece of the puzzle—He is the whole picture.

In Colossians 2, we will walk with Paul through warnings and reminders. We’ll revisit Old Testament symbols like circumcision and discover how they’re fulfilled in Christ. We’ll trace the meaning of baptism—not merely as a ritual, but as a vivid expression of our union with Jesus. And we’ll hear the resounding truth that every spiritual need we have is met—not in legalism, mysticism, or tradition—but in the fullness of Christ.

This is not just a theological argument. It is a spiritual safeguard. Paul wants the church—and us—to be rooted, built up, and protected in Christ. As we begin our study of Colossians 2, may it be our prayer that we come with open hearts and steady ears, ready to hold fast to the One who holds all things together.

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Colossians 2:1-10

For I want you to know what a great conflict I have for you and those in Laodicea, and for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh, that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, and attaining to all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the knowledge of the mystery of God, both of the Father and of Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Now this I say lest anyone should deceive you with persuasive words. For though I am absent in the flesh, yet I am with you in spirit, rejoicing to see your good order and the steadfastness of your faith in Christ. As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, rooted and built up in Him and established in the faith, as you have been taught, abounding in it with thanksgiving. Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit, according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world, and not according to Christ. For in Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily; and you are complete in Him, who is the head of all principality and power.

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Paul’s tone in this section is both pastoral and protective. He’s not writing from indifference or distance. He’s engaged in a “great conflict”—a word that suggests agony, wrestling, even intercession. His heart is burdened for believers he’s never met in person, including those in nearby Laodicea. We’re reminded here of his earlier words in Colossians 1:28–29, if you remember from last week, where he labored and strived to present every man perfect in Christ. This “conflict” is part of that same spiritual labor—fighting for their maturity and protection in the truth.

His goal? That their hearts would be encouraged, knit together in love, and grounded in the assurance of understanding. Assurance, not speculation. Unity, not division. Fullness, not fragments. And again, Paul points them to the mystery now revealed: Christ Himself, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Not some, not partial—but all. This echoes Colossians 1:19 “For it pleased the Father that in Him all the fullness should dwell...” The sufficiency of Christ is a repeated drumbeat because it is constantly under attack.

That’s why Paul issues a clear warning in verse 4: “Lest anyone deceive you with persuasive words.” The danger is not just outright heresy—it’s persuasion that sounds spiritual but is hollow. He’s not reacting to theoretical threats—he’s naming the real danger of deception through convincing but Christ-less reasoning. This should call to mind Paul’s words to the Corinthians: “I fear, lest somehow… your minds may be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ” (2 Corinthians 11:3).

Paul goes on to say that although he is physically absent, he affirms his spiritual presence and joy in their good order (a military term for disciplined formation) and the steadfastness of their faith. These are the marks of a church standing strong in truth.

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In verses 6–7, Paul delivers a central command: “As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him.” This is a call to continuity. The way we begin in Christ—by grace through faith—is the same way we are to continue. We don’t graduate from the gospel. We don’t move on from Jesus to something deeper. He is the depth. To walk in Him is to be rooted (like a tree), built up (like a structure), and established (like a foundation). These images show both stability and growth. The result is gratitude: abounding with thanksgiving.

But Paul knows that competing ideas threaten this walk. So he warns in verse 8: “Beware lest anyone cheat you...” The Greek carries the idea of being taken captive—like prey dragged off by deception.

Before we go further, and as Wanda pointed out last week, it’s helpful to remember why Paul wrote this letter in the first place. The church at Colosse was facing pressure from false teaching—a blend of Jewish legalism, Greek philosophy, and early forms of mysticism and asceticism. It wasn’t an outright denial of Christ, but a subtle distortion: Christ plus human tradition… Christ plus secret knowledge… Christ plus rigid self-discipline. These teachings sounded wise, even spiritual—but they threatened to pull believers away from the simple sufficiency of Jesus. Paul writes not only to correct these errors but to exalt Christ so clearly, so gloriously, that every counterfeit fades in comparison. This is why chapter 1 soars with declarations of who Christ is—and chapter 2 follows with warnings not to settle for anything less.

Through what are they being taken captive? Philosophy and empty deceit, dressed up in tradition and basic principles of the world. These are belief systems that sound wise but are void of Christ. They appeal to the mind but do not renew it. They promise depth but deliver bondage.

And how often do we face the same danger today?

It’s rarely the bold heresy that captures the Christian—it’s the subtle suggestion. The podcast that sounds wise but never points to the cross. The “Christian” book that centers your potential more than your need for grace. The well-spoken influencer who talks about faith but never names Jesus. These are the modern-day persuasive words—not openly hostile to Christ, just carefully empty of Him.

We must be on guard, not just against false doctrine, but against anything that makes the gospel seem insufficient or Jesus seem small. Paul is not calling us to paranoia, but to clarity. It is Christ we have received—and it is Christ in whom we must continue.

And so Paul returns again to the anchor point: “For in Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily.” Not in ideas. Not in angels. Not in mysticism. In Christ. Fully divine. Fully incarnate. And—astonishingly—“you are complete in Him.” What a statement. You don’t need spiritual upgrades. You don’t need hidden knowledge. If you are in Christ, you are whole.

And this Christ, Paul says, is “the head of all principality and power.” Every force, every authority—spiritual or earthly—bows to Him. You don’t need to fear what He has already conquered.

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Colossians 2:11–15

Colossians 2:11–15 NKJV

In Him you were also circumcised with the circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the sins of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, buried with Him in baptism, in which you also were raised with Him through faith in the working of God, who raised Him from the dead. And you, being dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He has made alive together with Him, having forgiven you all trespasses, having wiped out the handwriting of requirements that was against us, which was contrary to us. And He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross. Having disarmed principalities and powers, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in it.

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Paul has just finished saying in verse 10, “You are complete in Him.” Now, in verses 11–15, he explains how that completeness was accomplished—not through ritual, not through religious performance, but through what Christ has done for us and in us.

Paul writes in verse 11, “In Him you were also circumcised with the circumcision made without hands…” This statement would have been striking—especially to Jewish believers familiar with the central role of circumcision under the Old Covenant.

In Genesis 17:10–14, God established circumcision as a sign of the covenant between Himself and Abraham’s descendants. Every male was to be circumcised on the eighth day—not merely as a physical act, but as a visible mark of belonging to God’s covenant people. It was an outward symbol of being set apart, of removing impurity, and of entering into the promises of God. But even in the Old Testament, the physical rite pointed to something deeper. In Deuteronomy 10:16, God says, “Therefore circumcise the foreskin of your heart, and be stiff-necked no longer.” And again in Jeremiah 4:4: “Circumcise yourselves to the Lord, and take away the foreskins of your hearts.” In other words, God always desired an inward transformation, not just an outward ritual.

Paul now picks up that very thread. He tells the Colossians they have received a spiritual circumcision—“the circumcision of Christ.” This does not refer to Jesus’ physical circumcision as a child (Luke 2:21), but rather to the cutting away of our sinful nature through His death and resurrection. This circumcision is “made without hands”—a deliberate contrast to the human, physical act under the Law. What was once symbolized by cutting flesh is now fulfilled in the removal of the old self—the sinful nature that stood opposed to God (Romans 6:6 “knowing this, that our old man was crucified with Him, that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves of sin.” ). Christ’s work on the cross becomes the means by which the believer is cleansed and made new. This is not law-keeping—it is new creation.

And then Paul links this spiritual circumcision to baptism. He says, “buried with Him in baptism, in which you also were raised with Him…”

The word translated baptism (Greek: baptizō) originally referred to immersing, submerging, or overwhelming something in liquid. In the ancient textile world, it was commonly used for dyeing cloth. A white garment placed into dye would emerge permanently changed—soaked through, now bearing a completely different identity. The imagery is powerful: baptism signifies being plunged into Christ’s death, and rising with a new nature, a new identity, and a new life.

This idea is reinforced by a well-known example from the Greek poet and physician Nicander, who lived around 200 B.C. In his recipe for making pickles, he uses two distinct Greek words: baptō—meaning to dip or briefly immerse—and baptizō—to submerge thoroughly, to saturate until changed. The cucumber may be baptō-ed and remain the same, but once it is baptizō-ed, it becomes something new. A permanent transformation takes place. The old is gone. What emerges is entirely different.

That is the picture Paul draws for us. We aren’t merely touched by Christ—we are immersed in Him. Our old life is buried. A new life rises. Baptism is not just symbolic—it dramatizes what happens to those who are in Christ.

And when Jesus commands His disciples in Matthew 28:19, “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” we should hear more than just an instruction to perform a ritual. He is calling us to submerge others in the reality and presence of the Triune God. To make disciples who are fully immersed in the love of the Father, the lordship of the Son, and the power of the Spirit. Not sprinkled with religion—but saturated with the life of God.

Christian baptism, then, is not merely symbolic. It visibly dramatizes our union with Christ—our burial of the old man and our resurrection to new life. Paul echoes this in his letter to the Romans, Romans 6:3–4 “Do you not know that as many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death? Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death… that just as Christ was raised… even so we also should walk in newness of life.”

So Paul is showing the Colossians—and us—that everything circumcision once pointed toward is now fulfilled in Christ. And baptism becomes the sign—not of law-keeping, but of identification with the One who died and rose for us. We don’t need old covenant rituals or man-made traditions to be complete. We need Christ—and in Him, we have been cut free from the old and immersed into something entirely new.

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This section continues in verses 13–15 with Paul declaring our forgiveness, the canceling of our debt, and Christ’s triumph over spiritual powers. These truths are not merely theological concepts—they are the foundation for our freedom and our walk in Christ.

And this is where Paul turns next:

Colossians 2:13 NKJV

And you, being dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He has made alive together with Him, having forgiven you all trespasses,

The language is stark: we were dead. Not weak. Not struggling. Dead! Spiritually lifeless and morally guilty. But God made us alive—together with Christ. This is resurrection language. As Christ was raised from the grave, so we are raised from spiritual death into new life.

And how is this new life possible? “Having forgiven you all trespasses.” Not some. All. The record of sin, every charge against us, has been wiped clean. Verse 14 drives the point deeper:

Colossians 2:14 NKJV

having wiped out the handwriting of requirements that was against us, which was contrary to us. And He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross.

The “handwriting of requirements” is likely a reference to the legal debt—a record of our transgressions, like an IOU signed by the guilty. But Paul says God wiped it out. He didn’t file it away. He didn’t reduce it. He nailed it to the cross. The debt has been paid in full.

Finally, Paul describes Christ’s triumph over the powers of darkness:

Colossians 2:15 NKJV

Having disarmed principalities and powers, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in it.

This is a picture of a Roman victory parade. The conquered enemy is stripped, exposed, and paraded in defeat. That’s what Christ did to Satan and his forces. On the cross, what looked like defeat was actually victory.

This passage is one of the clearest declarations of the gospel in Paul’s letters. We were dead. Christ made us alive. Our sins were many. Christ forgave them all. Our debt was great. Christ paid it. Our enemy was strong. Christ disarmed him.

And all of it—not by rituals or self-effort, but by grace through faith in the finished work of Christ.

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Colossians 2:16–23

Colossians 2:16–23 NKJV

So let no one judge you in food or in drink, or regarding a festival or a new moon or sabbaths, which are a shadow of things to come, but the substance is of Christ. Let no one cheat you of your reward, taking delight in false humility and worship of angels, intruding into those things which he has not seen, vainly puffed up by his fleshly mind, and not holding fast to the Head, from whom all the body, nourished and knit together by joints and ligaments, grows with the increase that is from God. Therefore, if you died with Christ from the basic principles of the world, why, as though living in the world, do you subject yourselves to regulations—“Do not touch, do not taste, do not handle,” which all concern things which perish with the using—according to the commandments and doctrines of men? These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom in self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body, but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh.

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Having just declared that Christ triumphed over sin, death, and the spiritual forces of darkness, Paul now turns to the practical implications for the believer. If Christ has conquered all, then legalism, mysticism, and asceticism have no claim on us. These were the very distortions troubling the Colossian believers—each offering a form of godliness while subtly displacing Christ.

So Paul writes: “So let no one judge you in food or in drink, or regarding a festival or a new moon or sabbaths…”

These practices are deeply rooted in the Jewish law. Dietary restrictions, religious calendars, and sabbath observance were all part of Israel’s covenantal life. But Paul calls them a shadow—not the substance. They pointed forward to something greater: Christ. The law was the outline; Jesus is the reality. So why return to the shadow when the substance has come?

This is not Paul condemning spiritual discipline or godly living—but rejecting the idea that holiness comes by keeping rules instead of abiding in Christ. The gospel does not add Christ to the law—it fulfills the law in Him. We’re not sanctified by schedules, symbols, or food laws. We’re sanctified by union with the risen Savior.

Then Paul addresses another threat: “Let no one cheat you of your reward, taking delight in false humility and worship of angels…”

This is a move from legalism to mysticism. In Colossae, some were being enticed by esoteric spirituality—visions, angelic encounters, secret knowledge, and self-abasement that paraded as humility. But Paul is clear: these people are “vainly puffed up by their fleshly mind.” What seems spiritual is actually fleshly. What appears humble is actually prideful. And crucially—they are “not holding fast to the Head.”

Here is Paul’s central concern again: anything that replaces or displaces Christ is dangerous. These spiritual detours look impressive, but they sever people from the very source of life. Christ is the Head. From Him, the whole body grows, nourished and knit together. The church matures only when it remains connected to Christ.

In verses 20–22, Paul returns to the futility of self-made religion:

“Therefore, if you died with Christ from the basic principles of the world, why… do you subject yourselves to regulations—‘Do not touch, do not taste, do not handle’?”

These commands sound religious. They offer control. But they have no power against the flesh. They may restrict the body, but they do not renew the heart. Rules without regeneration are bondage, not holiness. And Paul’s point is sharp: you died with Christ. You’re no longer bound to the world’s system—why act like you are?

He closes with a strong critique: “These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom… but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh.”

There is a kind of religion that looks holy, feels disciplined, and appears wise—but leaves the heart untouched. It can even lead to pride and spiritual abuse. That is what Paul warns against. And the cure, again, is Christ.

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Conclusion

Colossians 2 stands as both a warning and a reassurance. It warns us against anything—no matter how spiritual it may sound—that attempts to supplement, substitute, or sideline Christ. Whether it’s philosophy, tradition, legalism, mysticism, or self-imposed religion, Paul makes it unmistakably clear: none of it adds to our standing before God. In fact, it only obscures the glory of the gospel.

But this chapter also reassures us. We are not lacking. We are not unfinished. We are not waiting for some hidden truth to complete our salvation. If we are in Christ, we are full—because in Him dwells all the fullness of God, and we are complete in Him.

We have been buried with Him. Raised with Him. Made alive in Him. Forgiven in Him. And through Him, every enemy has been defeated. Every debt has been canceled. Every barrier has been torn down.

The answer to deception is not retreat, but remembrance. Not spiritual striving, but spiritual rooting—into Christ, our Head, our Life, our Victory.

I’ve taken a liking to how Pastor Alistair Begg often draws from classic hymns in his preaching—not to stir sentiment, but to deepen our grasp of gospel truth. In that same spirit, these lines from “In Christ Alone” bring fitting clarity to Colossians 2:

“In Christ alone my hope is found, He is my light, my strength, my song… This cornerstone, this solid ground, firm through the fiercest drought and storm.”

That is the testimony of Colossians 2. Christ is not part of the answer—He is the answer. Not only our beginning, but our sufficiency. Not only our Savior, but our strength.

Let no one cheat you of that.

Let Christ alone be enough.

As we look ahead to next week, we will be studying Colossians 3, where Paul continues to build upon this foundation—calling us to seek the things that are above and put on the new self that is ours in Christ.

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Closing Prayer

Father,

We thank You for the fullness that is found in Christ alone. Thank You that we are not left to strive for what You have already given—that in Him we are buried, raised, made alive, and forgiven. Keep us from being drawn away by persuasive words or spiritual distractions that lack Christ. Teach us to walk in the One we have received—rooted, built up, and established in the faith.

Help us to hold fast to Jesus when the world offers substitutes. May we be a people who do not merely believe in Him, but abide in Him—daily, joyfully, humbly. Strengthen us by Your Spirit to live as those who are truly free. And as we look ahead to what it means to seek the things above, prepare our hearts to put off the old and walk in the newness You’ve already secured.

In the name of the Son, by the power of the Spirit, to the glory of the Father—Amen.