Dear Luke,
Your understanding of discipleship
sounds spot on to me—to follow Jesus means, to me, to be a complete
undertaking, one that should engage the believer first thing in the morning and
not let go all day. The entire heart and
mind are actively pursuing a life lived for his glory, and Jesus will continue
to lean on us to enlarge our understanding of discipleship, to the point where
we see each and every opportunity before us as a chance to grow as
disciples. It is a massive undertaking,
a lifetime’s work, and the moment we rest on our satisfied laurels we begin to
slip from the picture of discipleship painted by Jesus. We never achieve that for which we strive,
instead waiting for the fulfillment of our life’s work until we rest in the
Kingdom of God with Jesus forever.
It is a daunting task. It is not easy. There are many who take one look and decide
that it is not for them. There are many
more who make verbal commitments, or who strive to commit, but can never
actually offer their whole hearts and minds.
They live a half-hearted discipleship, one that reaches toward the sky
but never contemplates actually leaving the ground. It is a sad picture for me, of those who want
the best but are afraid to risk anything.
If you are going to commit your life, Luke, do so fully, without regret,
and trust God to care for you should you falter. God’s love is strong enough to make up for
our weaknesses.
This particular section of Jesus’
life seems to be packed full of curious incidents and difficult teachings. What I am about to report is no
different. We talked recently about the
Gerasenes, the people who sent Jesus away out of fear. I have news of another village, a Samaritan
village, who refused to receive Jesus at all.
It was coming near to the time when Jesus would be taken up, which will
be made clear to you later, and Jesus had set his face to travel toward
Jerusalem. Messengers were sent ahead of
Jesus to make things ready, for Jesus could not travel quickly due to the large
crowds that hounded him. This particular
Samaritan village did not receive him due to the fact that he was set on
Jerusalem, and if that were not odd enough, James and John asked Jesus if they
should have fire from heaven come down and destroy the village. That would certainly put a capstone on this
odd section of stories! It’s hard to
imagine such a scene, and Jesus rebukes the two for even suggesting it. Jesus was not afraid of using harsh words for
those who opposed him, those who rejected his presence were not
destroyed—although it probably would have raised the conversion percentage, I
doubt that Jesus was interested in doing so by fear. They simply went on to another village,
probably one happy to receive a well-known healer and teacher, and the crowd
must have followed along, ready to listen, ready to observe, ready to be
amazed.
As they were on their way to this
other city, a rather interesting conversation took place, especially
considering your questions regarding discipleship. Someone cried out that they would follow Jesus
wherever he went, but Jesus replied by saying that foxes and birds have homes,
but that the Son of Man has no such place.
Jesus called another to follow him, and he asked to be allowed to first
bury his father, a reasonable request, but Jesus told him to let the dead take
care of the dead and instead spend his time proclaiming God’s Kingdom. One more pledged to follow, once he had said
goodbye to those in his household, but Jesus only said that anyone who is fit for
the kingdom of God won’t look back once the hand is on the plow.
Those should give you something to
wrestle with when you’re thinking about discipleship. Even I struggle with what these mean. I certainly understand their surface
meaning—that we aren’t to be so caught up with the affairs of the world, even
our own families, that we fail to be disciples, and that we will be sacrificing
material comfort if we follow Jesus, but it’s hard for me to grasp exactly how
to live these out. I cannot imagine abandoning
my family, and I fear I might do great harm to the reputation of the Christian
if I were to do so. I am certainly fine
with the idea of material sacrifice, but I will readily admit that the reality
of it is something I shirk. How do I
live out this difficult calling? I have
much to learn, Luke, and I suspect that most honest Christians will admit the
same. We are an imperfect people, but
our hearts are stretching towards Jesus, leading our bodies and our actions,
even if it is often unwillingly, to consider giving more of ourselves to
Jesus. The discipleship which he
commands is not a simple one to add in to other commitments—it is one that
rules over all of life, and we cannot spend our time looking back, wondering
what life would be like otherwise. It is
not even fit to delay it for the sake of emotional attachments. Following Jesus is a whole-life task, and
anything less than that is an incomplete discipleship.
I know it is intimidating, but I
think that it is also comforting. Would
you be interested in a religion that asked for less than your whole heart and
mind? If everything that Jesus Christ
says is true actually is true, than the sacrifices which he asks for seem
entirely reasonable. It’s worth the
cost. A religion that was content with
only part of your heart seems to me a rather small religion that would worship
a God that wasn’t interested in reigning over all of creation. The God I worship is the God who created the
heavens and the earth, and all that is in them, and he wants it all, including
my life, which God created, to sing his praise.
I believe that Jesus Christ is God, and that following him is the best
way to align my life with the life God wants me to lead. Anything smaller is uninteresting to me.
Sincerely,
Theophilus
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