Following

The Christian religion often fails to conform to our expectations. It is always worthwhile to notice how and discover why.

When I have taught a course surveying World Religions, I have offered students a standard schema for each: beliefs + values + practices. The combination of these is the substantive definition of that religion.

Curiously, however, Jesus didn’t teach his students the way I do. Nor did any Christian teacher in the New Testament in any of the epistles.

Nowhere in the Scripture does anyone set out a concise and comprehensive list of the essentials of Christian doctrine: an “ur-creed,” if you will. Nor is there anywhere such a set of values or virtues. Instead, we get a series of apparently ad hoc lists of good qualities and concerns (love, peace, patience, faith, hope, gratitude, etc.) that overlap but never coalesce into a single authoritiative chart.

As for practices, the Bible bristles with lots of both commands and examples. Again, however, they are shown us here and there on this or that occasion. They are never summed up on some nice, helpful tablets of the (new) law.

The Book of Common Prayer’s collect for this week (Fourth Sunday of Easter) gives us a clue: “O God, whose Son Jesus is the good shepherd of your people: Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads.”

Jesus’ initial instruction to his disciples seems invariably to have been this: “Follow me.” Now, he could have meant, “Come along and I’ll teach you the beliefs + values + practices of this new religion I’m starting.” But he didn’t mean that. He begins with “follow me” and he ends with personal communion as well: “Make disciples—more followers—and look: I am with you always.”

Paradoxically, Jesus then leaves them, although he promises to return. In the meanwhile, however, the Father shortly thereafter sends the Holy Spirit, at Pentecost, and so, yes, Jesus—the Spirit of Jesus (Philippians 1:19)—remains with them, indwelling them, in fact, in the closest possible relationship.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer has been my guide to discipleship, as he has been for many others, and particularly in his emphasis upon this personal relationship with Jesus as the core of Christian life. His most-read book, The Cost of Discipleship, alas, was seriously misnamed in the English translation. The German original is Nachfolge, and it means, simply, “Following.”

Bonhoeffer throughout his ethical and spiritual writing warns us about lists: lists of good things to do, lists of good qualities to develop, lists of good thoughts to think, lists of good things to feel. Listing can be useful, of course. The New Testament does give us a number of lists. But listing is dangerous.

How so? Listing lets me take control of my spiritual life. Now I write my list, I consult my list, I live by my list. Following my list is no longer following Jesus. Instead, I tick off boxes, strive to do better, and devote myself to being an excellent person according to my list. (“Virtue” in Greek is aretē, the same word for “excellence.”) You see the issue? Christianty now becomes my project, something I can do, I can accomplish, I can recognize and reward. “Good for me!” I can say at the close of a list-keeping day. “And I can do better tomorrow!”

(Bonhoeffer was particularly dismayed at his fellow list-keeping Christians who didn’t have “Save the Jews” on their lists, but did have “Submit to the authorities,” and so went along with the cultural current with apparently clear consciences.)

Remember: the fundamental sin, the Edenic sin, is to pull away from God and to go our own way instead. The fatal mistake is autonomy, the “law unto myself.” Even the quest for virtue—especially the quest for virtue—can be a road away from God, away from listening for the Shepherd’s voice and following him wherever he leads.

Romans and Greeks knew all about this road. This road toward moral heroism was the rival ethical path recommended by the culture in which the infant church made its way. And there were, of course, Jewish parallels—most conspicuously, the commandment-keeping Pharisees.

Lists can be good servants, but they must not be masters. We must not follow them to attempt to master ourselves, to master morality and spirituality, to make ourselves great.

Lists can be a new type of law that binds us to itself as legislator rather than to Jesus as our Lord. Bonhoeffer's teacher, Adolf Schlatter, warned of this dynamic: "This message does not consist in God's stipulating articles of conduct but in his giving grace to hear what Christ says and to do what he has commanded" (Do We Know Jesus? 1937).

The Christian way is the way of fellowship with God our heavenly Father, through the ongoing intercession of our faithful high priest Jesus, in communion with our friend, the Holy Spirit. The Christian way is the way of following Jesus, walking with Jesus, heeding Jesus, obeying Jesus, confiding in Jesus, living every moment with Jesus.

I must “pray without ceasing,” commune and communicate with Jesus at all times. I must check in with him constantly, not just check my list to judge how I’m doing. Jesus is (my) Lord: not my list.

High-performance people are especially susceptible to this temptation: to clutch their lists (as they clutch their résumés) as measures and justifications of their superiority. May God deliver all of us today from such idolatry—and such slavery.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28–29).

The Christian way, first and last, is this: “Follow me.” Not lists: listening.