For God called you to do good, even if it means suffering, just as Christ suffered for you. He is your example, and you must follow in his steps. (1 Peter 2: 21)
The call to “Follow Jesus” has turned up in my reading several times this week, and I've been reflecting on the notion. In the New Testament of course, it’s the invitation to the disciples – many of them fishermen – who when asked to ‘follow’ had to literally leave behind their normal work pattern and spend their years with this engaging craftsman rabbi who offered uncommon wisdom and extraordinary love. We don’t know how this this affected their families, or bosses, but they don’t seem to have been alienated from society by their decision to follow. Peter still had his brother, and at home a mother-in-law, and at times their entourage was joined by women of faith, some of whom provided financial support. (Luke 8: 1 – 3) Some disciples owned businesses that may have been able to carry on without them. Clearly Matthew gave up his taxman role, but he may have used his skills in other ways to support the group. It was a matter of priorities and loyalty; and it is for us too.
When I first made a decision for Christ in my teens, being “a follower of Jesus” wasn’t the language we used. It was about becoming a Christian, or inviting Jesus into your heart. The verse used at the Easter Camp where I responded to the ‘altar call’ was John 1: 12 – "To all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave the power to become children of God." I had always known Jesus as a friend and guide, but now I believed (trusted) in his work on the Cross for me, and had gratefully received his resurrection power to change my life. And he did, mostly in subtle ways, as I didn’t have a dissolute lifestyle or lots of sins to confess. I was the minister’s daughter! Nevertheless, I had asked Jesus into my life to be “Resident Boss." That meant what he cared about now mattered to me. Decisions I had to make were to be prayerfully offered and thoughtfully discerned, in light of my growing knowledge of Scripture and theology. Within a few years I cautiously responded to God’s call to ministry which became clearer over time, and later my vocation flourished as I developed gifts of teaching and leadership in serving others.
In Sheldon’s 1896 novel, members of a middle-class church in the US are challenged by a dying tramp to live out their faith, and both minister and parishioners pledge themselves to live for one year asking themselves, "What would Jesus do?" Their experiences of suffering, ridicule and discovery inspire other churches throughout the country to do the same. Of course the idea of imitation is implicit in discipleship. When bracelets and bibles emblazoned with WWJD became trendy (and then mocked) most of us found it can be a depressing exercise. We do become like the people with whom we associate, but to fully imitate the only sinless person in human history is an impossible ideal. And Jesus didn’t in fact say Copy Me, he said Follow Me. At heart, the gospel is not about what we do. Focussing on deeds means we can slip into a works-based righteousness, thinking we get brownie points for doing good deeds. To try and be like Jesus in every way is so far from possible it would become an intolerable burden. Our only hope is if he offers to live his life through us.
In my years as a parish minister, I learned a new word – ‘formation’. Its from the Catholic tradition and is based on the notion of us becoming like Christ, not just in deeds but in spirituality and character. If we know the stories and sayings of Jesus well, we become more aware of what he would do, or prefer us to do. His Spirit works in us shaping our character, our values, our worship and prayer; perhaps the Protestant word for formation was sanctification. I’ve been a member of the Baptist movement (alongside my Presbyterian ordination and first loyalty) for fifteen years now and I’ve noticed that Baptists in particular talk a lot about being a follower of Jesus. They rarely say ”I’m a Christian” and seldom describe themselves as “a Baptist”. I like that alternative , and over years of exposure I’ve found I now use that "following" language myself. Another phrase I try to emulate comes from the Methodist minister Tom Bandy, who always says “the church where I follow Jesus” or “the community where I serve Jesus” when he’s talking about his congregation. It’s humble and participatory, and intensely Biblical.
Here’s another story of someone being called again, from Chapter 15 of Brian McLaren’s book A New Kind of Christian, updated a few years ago:
(Pastor Dan) I told Carol that I had reached a decision about my future. She kept looking down at her boots shuffling through the snow.“Carol, before, I saw only two alternatives ……… but (mentor) Neo has helped me see a third alternative, one that would be more courageous, more honest, and more pleasing to God…. I wonder if I could become a new kind of Christian and I could try to lead (our) church in that new path too.”
Carol was still looking down, but I could detect a smile at the corner of her mouth. I continued, “I don’t want to try this unless you feel good about it too. I don’t know where this path will lead. It’s like we’ve come to the edge of the map, and all familiar paths are behind us, but a new world is out there ahead of us. …maybe if we travel on together, we can make some new discoveries, and help each other, and—”
Carol stopped walking and looked up toward the next street light. “It’s kind of like the snow tonight, isn’t it, Dan? There aren’t any footprints to follow, but there’s light ahead, and there’s a certain beauty in it all.”
Following Jesus - not so much In His Steps, but By his Light.
To ponder: Have you experienced a invitation to follow not footprints, but light ahead? Tell someone about it.
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