I struggle with the word Christian. When Jesus started his earthly ministry he didn’t invite people to a new religious order. He didn’t come as a spiritual leader in the traditional sense.
He came as the way back to the Father. When he began his ministry he simply asked people to “follow me”.
Jesus extended an invitation.
The first disciples, Peter, James, John, and the rest, weren’t Christians. They were Jesus followers. Disciples.
When Jesus was born, the people inhabiting his world, up close and far away, received an invitation. The first invitation was to come and see. The shepherds were invited, and they invited others. The wise strangers were invited. We can only presume they carried stories of their wonderful meeting home with them. As Jesus grew he continued the invitation.
As is typical of humans we’ve added policies, traditions, systems, and formula to the act of following Jesus. It’s in our nature to do. I fall into that habit and live inside the framework too. But sometimes when I take a good look at Jesus I find him at odds with the framework we’ve created.
Jesus didn’t come to establish a new religion. He came to extend an invitation. To lead us home to the Father.
“If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it?” Luke 14:26-28
Strange verses for an advent reflection, perhaps. But even at the moment of his conception Jesus was asking people to lay down their lives in response to his invitation. Mary had to despise her own reputation and risk estrangement from her family to welcome Jesus. Joseph risked being laughed at for accepting Marry’s story and raising a baby that wasn’t his. The shepherds were unclean, and often unwelcome in polite society. They risked showing up. The magi risked a long, costly, dangerous journey in response to their invitation.
Jesus will always invite us to lay down our lives, our rights, our possessions, our status, even our relationships to embrace the superior worth of himself. He invites us to count the cost of the journey, a lifelong pursuit of him. Ultimately, Jesus invites us to die.
I’ve often wrestled with this reality. I told my husband recently, “He’s always asking me to die! It seems like all I’m ever doing is dying!”
That’s what discipleship is. A death to our own rights, agenda, preferences, fears, opinions, timing, and even needs. All in order to pick up Jesus’ worth, agenda, values, strength, understanding, and character. Who wouldn’t want that?! To have access to such a valuable thing as God’s nature! But pride’s the enemy. Humbling ourselves, submitting, yielding – it’s not in our human nature.
A heart that counts the cost, dies to self, and responds to the invitation of Jesus – that is absolutely the greatest miracle of all time.
There is nothing sweet about Jesus in the manger. His humility was fierce. It set a precedent for the way we are to live. Personally I’m still figuring out what that looks like. I will be until my last breath.
This week I didn’t choose humility. I didn’t die to my rights or my flesh. I shared an opinion I didn’t need to share in a place I didn’t need to share it. Life presents continual opportunities to practice humility, to join Jesus in laying down our life. Life seems to be one big practice session, exercising our faith muscles, trimming away the fat of self! At each step Jesus invites us, come, keep following.
Maybe Jesus follower is a better descriptor than Christian for what I want to be. The word Christian has picked up a lot of baggage over the centuries. Baggage I want to be rid of. To be honest, I wouldn’t die for the sake of Christianity. Jesus on the other hand, I’ll die for him.
How will you respond to the invitation? Is Jesus worth dying for?
Let’s pray: Jesus, thank you for your example of humility. Thank you for calling us to something better than a life of allegiance to ourselves. When you ask us to give up our rights, possessions, and comfort help us to see what we gain, not what we lose. And forgive us, please, for the times we haven’t responded to your invitation to follow with lives of humility. Thank you for the humility of the manger, we love you for it. Amen.
Becoming a Woman of Influence 