This “Following Jesus” Thing

With the official launch of my first novel only weeks away, I’ve had to neglect writing for the sake of a million technical tasks related to publishing a book, and it has confirmed my suspicions of the past years: The actual task of creative writing is when I’m the happiest, and the rest is what I do so I can get back to it. And although I might not like the realization of how much of a writer’s job is taken up doing things other than writing, it still leads to a wonderful conclusion…

This is what I was meant to do. For the first time maybe ever, I’m doing something I would love to do for the rest of my life.

Whether you have (yet) found a vocational calling like this or not, most of us have felt a similar thing whenever we first made a commitment to following Jesus. We didn’t try him out to see whether he was a fit. No, we surrendered our lives to him, often in a dramatic way. And for many of us, all other aspects of life moved to the background as we started to follow him.

There is something really beautiful in this. It is a powerful force to know where you’re going, and to be able to focus, especially in a world so riddled with way more options than a human being can handle. Many groups have understood this, and invitations like “You belong here” and “This is your family” are being thrown at us from churches, political groups, non-profits all the way down to more unlikely places like insurance companies and gyms.

And yet… the longer I walk with Jesus, the more I wonder about the nature of His invitation to follow Him. I don’t think it was an invitation to “join the club” and feel that you belong, that you are doing what you were supposed to do, for the rest of your life. I wonder about this because this is just not the experience for most of us.

In reality, we might wonder if our club membership has expired because of lack of use or delayed payment. Some of us might even wonder if the club across town could possibly have better perks. Or we simply feel like we don’t belong in our specific faith community – and frankly, if we get too cozy in it, it might actually be a good thing to start asking some questions.

Maybe following Jesus is meant to be a lot more dynamic. An invitation to be changed constantly. To have everything you believe overthrown every once in a while, and to never assume you had figured it out. To hold your idea of your club loosely and allow Jesus to change those ideas frequently.

A wonderful example of this is “The Chosen”, a show about the life of Jesus through the eyes of his followers. I love how every single episode messes up at least one disciple’s idea of what he had signed up for when he had decided to follow this Rabbi. Whether it’s accepting a tax collector into their group, or finding out that Jesus isn’t preparing to overthrow the Roman occupation – these guys wake up every day wondering what else is going to be different. Along the way they also find out that the revolution Jesus is talking about is to take place in their own hearts.

Whenever they think they have their group and their act together, Jesus ruins it all and tells them stuff like loving their enemies (yes, even the Romans!) and by the way, that he is going to get killed by those same Romans. I imagine they sometimes woke up in the morning and thought: “Do I really even want to hear what he’s going to say today?”

But the character that most gets to me in this show is Nicodemus. A Pharisee, and a man who sincerely seeks God. His sincerity and passion bring him to the secret conversation with Jesus, which is my favorite scene in the show. Nicodemus knows well who Jesus is, and he understands what the Rabbi is asking of him when he invites him to follow (an invitation that isn’t spelled out in Scripture but might easily have happened): He will abandon his life to the yearning his whole spiritual life is built upon, and nothing will ever be the same.

And yet…Nicodemus has a family. A place in society where he is loved and honored. A reputation surely to be lost the moment he is seen in the company of this rogue preacher from Nazareth. A whole lifetime to give up in order to join a bunch of fishermen and a carpenter.

I understand him. I feel like his inner conflict is often mine, too. Because following Jesus isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a process, and often a messy one. And even though I, like Nicodemus, know beyond a doubt in my heart that it is the Messiah I’m trying to follow, it doesn’t automatically turn into a daily “here I am, ready to leave everything” confession with a smile on my face.

I don’t know what the show’s bottom line is concerning Nicodemus (he will surely reappear in coming seasons), but his decision not to join the disciples that night needs to be considered with humility. On the surface, it can be seen as failure; Nicodemus values his reputation and his family higher than the chance of joining the disciples of the Christ. And, surely, not a day will go by in Nicodemus’ life where he doesn’t wonder what would have been.

But I don’t believe you get just one chance. I don’t believe there is “that one thing” you need to do to follow Jesus. I think the disciple’s lives (and our own) show us that there are ample opportunities for falling in and falling out of following Jesus.

Our modern evangelical vocabulary makes our conversation about following Jesus dangerously two-dimensional. You’re either saved, or not. Obedient, or not. Following God’s plan, or not. But do you know that to the disciples, the question of whether they were saved might have been hard to answer, especially if they had to name a specific moment? Were they saved the moment they saw he was actually resurrected from the dead? Or was it the moment they realized he was the Messiah? Or was it even the moment they started following him? But then what about those who left after some time? Those who doubted until the very end? Those who denied him and to whom Jesus had to say, “get behind me, Satan”? Maybe this whole thing isn’t so black-and-white after all?

A popular measuring stick for many to calculate the measure of followership is whether people do “truly obedient” things like leaving everything behind (aka quit your job, sell your house, and give your belongings away) and move to the mission field. And there is a temptation to expect such a step to forever cement your loyalty to Christ. To think that if Nicodemus had taken that step that night, everything would have fallen into place and he could have then rested on the laurels of his exemplary actions. It’s dramatic; it’s even romantic. I get it.

But it’s not reality, at least not mine. I lived on the mission field in India for years and did all the kodak missionary activities with pictures to prove it. And although I’m not saying that nothing was achieved or that Jesus didn’t work through me and in me, it still was just another part of my journey – it wasn’t the most impactful, nor the time I felt closest to God, not even the time I felt most obedient. I certainly didn’t “seal” my commitment to God, or make me immune to doubts or times where I feel like I’m dragging my feet trying to follow.

Scripture tells us that after his death, Jesus’ body was taken from the cross and prepared for burial by Joseph of Arimathea. But Joseph didn’t do this important task alone. Another man joins him and brings close to one hundred pounds of spices with which to embalm Jesus’ body. This is four times the amount used normally, even for important public figures, and today would cost around $150,000. We assume that this was a mayor portion of Nicodemus’ wealth, who with this act helped fulfil the prophecy concerning Jesus’ body not seeing corruption. There is more than one way to follow.

Did Nicodemus make the right choice that night on the roof with Jesus? Probably not. But did he “miss his chance”? Certainly not! Just like us, Nicodemus had a life of choices to make regarding his love for Jesus, whether it was standing up to the Sanhedrin to defend him (John 9), or using his wealth for his burial, or a million choices afterwards we don’t hear of in the Bible.

To follow Jesus is to wake up in the morning and expect Jesus to change my whole idea of what it means to be his follower yet again. To know I’ll make mistakes, slack off, miss the point, and find out the next morning He still calls me His friend. And then I’ll get it right, shine in the Christian spotlight, and the next moment hear that still small voice tell my ego to “get behind me, Satan”. It’s all part of the journey. It’s what it means to be at the same time a lifelong, dedicated follower of Jesus who knows there will never be anything more important in life for me – and yet understand that, very fundamentally, I haven’t even begun to have figured this “following Jesus” thing out.