The Direction of Discipleship
It seems like such a simple question: "Do I want to follow Jesus—or do I want Jesus to follow me?"
Yet this question cuts to the heart of my faith, exposing the subtle ways I try to domesticate the divine. I speak often of following Jesus, but sometimes what I really want is a Jesus who validates my chosen path, confirms my existing beliefs, and stays within the comfortable boundaries I’ve drawn.
When Jesus doesn't match my expectations—when he speaks of loving enemies, welcomes those I'd rather exclude, or extends grace beyond my carefully constructed borders—how do I respond? Do I follow where he leads, even when the path feels uncertain? Or do I stand my ground, insisting that Jesus conform to my understanding?
The people of Nazareth faced this very choice. They wanted a hometown hero, a Jesus who would perform miracles on demand and prove their special status. Instead, they got a Jesus who spoke of God's love extending to outsiders—a widow in Sidon, a Syrian general. So they tried to throw him off a cliff. Really. It’s a wild story. It didn’t take much, but their admiration turned to rage because Jesus refused to be who they wanted him to be.1
I’m not so different. I create neat theological boxes, proper religious boundaries, acceptable expressions of faith. Then I’m surprised when Jesus walks right past them all, inviting us to follow into uncomfortable territory.
Following Jesus means letting go of my need to lead, my desire to set the agenda, my impulse to limit love's reach. It means accepting that God's love might be more expansive, more disruptive, and more transformative than I could ever imagine.
The invitation remains the same as it was in Galilee: "Follow me."
The only question is whether I’m willing to let Jesus set the direction.
For the full context of this story, read LUKE 4:21-30