We all follow something. We follow the brands we like, the artists, the new coffee chain, the release of this TV series, the praises we’ve heard of the new pastor, and the stories of that church. We follow dear friends to new regions, relocate for jobs, and settle nearer to family or woods or sweeping fields. In fact, if you’re reading this blog, you’ve likely been following along.
Following isn’t wrong—it’s another way to say “paying attention to” or “heading in a direction towards or with somebody or something.” If nobody followed Lewis and Clark across the West or the proclamations of Martin Luther King Jr., history would be different. Certainly my life would be much drier without the conclusion to Downton Abbey or the anticipation of The Chosen. And our communion times at Global Awakening feel that much more rich as we hear Dr. Clark’s message again and again that there is more to our communion crackers and grape juice.
I mentioned weeks past that we are like sheep, and following is one of their traits. Following is innate to us. Thankfully, Jesus’ simplest, most clear command is to “follow me.” You’ll find it in every Gospel.
Unfortunately, wandering is also innate to us. I think of people I’ve known coming out of cults. They never set out to be in one. Indoctrination seeped like dewy drops of oil into their minds. Sometimes we repeat the habits of our mother, who followed her mother, who followed her mother, generations compiling until one child wakes up one day to the harm of the cycle, and strives to do different. And sometimes we just plummet down a harmful path—intentionally or unintentionally—with no reasoning for how we got there.
It would be so easy if Jesus laid out a step-by-step list of how to do life: how to be educated, where to meet your spouse, which city to pursue your calling in, when to have children and how many, what daily habits to keep your marriage thriving, what church to attend, what community to belong to.
Much like a kaleidoscope, however, following Jesus is never straightforward and almost always in some way divergent from what He tells everyone else to do. In fact, the difficulty in following is not just that there are many wrong directions but that we believers can faithfully follow the same Shepherd down very different paths.
Within the Church, we make choices every single day, often Holy Spirit-inspired, that differentiate ourselves from others. Sometimes a circumstance happens, like Covid, and the little gems sift through themselves so thoroughly that we end up on entirely different spectrums of theology and life choices than our dearest friends.
I used to think my little lane was a miracle path opened by Jesus, the correct one uniquely set in stone as opposed to all the other directions I saw friends headed into. And yet here I am, on the other side of another sweeping valley, the kind the Lord likes to lead us through, and I find my direction has changed, perpendicular almost to the previous road I watch friends and family continue to pass by on.
Am I right and are they wrong? Or has my Shepherd simply reset my compass?
Ruth and Orpah, two Moabite sisters-in-law, arrived at such a crossroads after the death of their husbands in the Book of Ruth. One returned to her people and the other followed her mother-in-law to Bethlehem.
Notably, no sentence decries Orpah for returning. Unlike Mary and Martha’s interaction with Jesus, where He expresses that Mary chose the better thing, there is no such remark upon Orpah’s choice to go home. In fact, Naomi blesses her to do so. We often praise Ruth for making the better decision, but I’ve begun to wonder whether the story is about “right” decisions at all. Perhaps Orpah met a wonderful husband in her hometown, and perhaps she even continued following God.
And yet, Ruth finds herself lavished with blessing—a wealthy husband, a son, and a place in Jesus’ lineage—upon choosing the arguably harder path. The different path. The path that makes her stand out in Bethlehem, for she, a Moabite, has chosen their people and their God.
This story reminds me of Paul’s instruction that “each person should live as a believer in whatever situation the Lord has assigned to them, just as God has called them” (1 Corinthians 7:17). His context is marriage, but this sentiment extends to other decisions we face in life: adoption, relocation, vocation, family boundaries, medicine, and more.
I name these contexts because, like all decisions, they bear consequences. The decision that follows will redirect our lives.
For some of us, it’s difficult not to think of things in terms of nonnegotiables. I don’t just mean left vs. right politics or homeschool vs. public school or house church vs. mega church. I mean how she’s parenting her kids and how he spends his time after work and what church those cousins are choosing to attend. I mean her approach to street evangelism and his silence in prayer meetings and that introverted teenager’s need for solitude. And how that couple gives all their money to charities and another builds investment after investment until their home is a million-dollar paradise.
And at the same time, some things are nonnegotiable: there are sinful choices and irreversible consequences, God can work the worst of things for our good, and we are all called to follow and to follow Christ.
When Ruth tells Naomi, “Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God,” I can’t help but feel she was following God Himself (Ruth 1:16).
What do we do when God asks us to follow Him somewhere different? Certainly, we test the word first with our community. Is it biblical? Is it right? Does it reflect our Christian values, the Great Commission, and the leadership of Christ? And if all those things prove true, what if it’s simply different? Unprecedented?
Walking perpendicular to the road you once cherished is hard. Relationships fracture all the time over the slightest of nuances. I think of Katie Luse’s book Lamposts: Letters to the Grieving, in which she devotes one passage to friendship: how grief can separate you from a friend, when the friendship ceases to travel with you along the grief journey. In grief you’ve changed, and the friendship has not. And yet, you must grieve to move on.
When Jesus redirects the lamp before your feet, what choice have you but to follow? I wrote earlier that, like sheep, we are prone to wander. That’s true. But also, sometimes I feel that following Jesus is wandering. You never know where He’s taking you next and there are so many different paths He’s forged in this world, they can’t all be right or wrong.
This post itself wanders, but I think what I’m trying to express is that we mustn’t get offended or surprised by our differing paths as believers. Our Shepherd will lead us to green pastures, even if their shades vary. In fact, the differences seem to be divinely orchestrated. We go where He goes, and He goes everywhere. What matters isn’t where He goes but that we’re following.
READ MORE:
Luse, Katie. Lamposts: Letters to the Grieving. Luse Productions, LLC. 2022.