“Follow me,” Jesus said.*
Jesus’ “follow” invites us to write resignation letters to self-leadership.
Jesus’ “follow Me” promises us that we will never be alone.
Often the only way God can guide us into His purposes is when we do not know where we are going.
By nature, we seek to know a definitive end point so that we can build an efficient bridge between here (what is seen) and there (what is unseen).
But great power exists in mystery. The unanswered “why” and “where” in our journeys are critical tools in our formation.
When we follow Jesus into the unknown, we recalibrate our understanding of growth away from being destination-driven and toward becoming Presence-satisfied.
If we are with Him, does it really matter where we are going?
Such is the practical power of making our home in Christ: Jesus’ Company trumps all scenery.
* To Simon and Andrew (Mt 4.19, Mk 1.17), to “another disciple” (Mt 8.22, Lk 9.59), to Matthew (Mt 9.9, Mk 2.14, Lk 5.27), to his disciples (Mt 16.24, Mk 8.34, Lk 9.23, Lk 14.27, Jn 12.26), to a young, wealthy man (Mt 19.21, Mk 10.21, Lk 18.22), to Philip (Jn 1.43), to the people (Jn 8.12), about His sheep (Jn 10.27), and to Peter (Jn 21.19, 22).
In one of the preaching moments I gave recently at my dad’s church, I talked about a season ago in 2010 – sitting in my living room preparing for a physical move to a new ministry location. I was buried in boxes and details and excited about this new chapter in our lives. In the hustle, God moved me away from the chaos and we sat together in the living room talking things through. Really, I did most of the talking. One question surfaced that day that took center stage. I simply asked God, “God, what’s next?” And just as clearly as I have ever had him impress his word into my heart he responded.
“I’m next.”
What’s a soul to do with a response like that other than to say, “Well, let’s get busy with my next then.” I didn’t know then what awaited me around the corner or that cancer was already growing in my body. Regardless, God’s “next” became and remains my anchor in this ever-shifting season called my life.
Seems to fit with your thoughts here, Friend. For what it’s worth … ~elaine
“I’m next”–love this, Elaine. Profoundly true in every season. Thank you!
Thanks for this Alicia. I need to wrap my heart around this especially: “When we follow Jesus into the unknown, we recalibrate our understanding of growth away from being destination-driven and toward becoming Presence-satisfied.
If we are with Him, does it really matter where we are going?”
So true, and a real paradigm shift for destination-driven ones like me!
Hello Erin! I miss you. We need to schedule another double-date sometime :-). Yes, it is quite a shift…one I personally have to re-choose each and every season. My love to you and your family.
“Presence-satisfied”…oh, how I hunger for that to be the reality in my life. I’ve been aware that Father wants me to be more present in terms living my life fully, here and now, and really, the only way I can do that is to be immersed in Him…now.
Wendy, you may have already read it, but my favorite book on practically growing in being present to God’s presence is Practicing His Presence by Brother Lawrence and Frank Laubach. http://tinyurl.com/mlrxldz Laubach’s writings especially inspire me because his life–surrounded by people and ever-changing responsibilities– reflects my own.
I’m having a tough time seeing this post through my tears. The unknown is where I live right now, as my Mother declines precipitously because of dementia. This year has been a year of loss for my family of origin. My strong independent Mother was living alone, driving, shopping etc in January. By the end of March, she could not discern the difference between her television remote and her telephone. This week, we placed her in the local nursing home. This ‘follow Me’ is one of the most difficult of my life. I KNOW Jesus is good. I KNOW he loves my Mother far more than I ever could. It’s just the journey that is so darned miserable. Watching my Mother slip away, dignity and all. Thank you for reminding me that the unanswered why is part of the journey that I am on, and that my Mother is on until God takes her home.
Oh, Leah, I could hear your deep love for your mom in every line. From strength in January to confusion in March–our lives are fragile indeed. I just returned from a speaking trip with my mom as my traveling buddy. She is 74 years strong. But I’m increasingly aware that strength is slippery. Peace and strength to you.