Follow Jesus, Find Joy

Have you ever leash-trained a dog? We’re on our third Labrador, and we haven’t successfully leash-trained one yet. Our first dog never needed it; she naturally stayed with us and behaved on walks. Our third and current dog came to us at the age of six via our son’s fraternity. He has plenty of bad habits we’re trying to overcome, so we haven’t worked too hard at the leash thing. But he does okay. Besides, if you’ve ever walked a male dog, you know it’s ten steps, stop, sniff, piddle, repeat.

Our middle dog, Tessa, came to us as a puppy. Realization that our first dog was an anomaly dawned, and we knew we needed help. When she was about six months old, Tessa and I embarked on obedience training. Each morning, afternoon, and evening we’d walk up and down the street practicing sitting, staying, and heeling.

Heeling is the foundation of successful leash-training. This is where Tessa learned to walk at my left heel. Not way behind so that I was dragging her but where her head was just behind my left knee. Our practice started with me reminding her to heel as we started out. With slack in the leash, I would let her forget to heel, get in front of me, and then I’d abruptly change direction. A hard right would yank her back in my direction. A hard left would cause my knee to shove her shoulder, and we’d tangle up in the leash. And about face–well, you get the idea. But trust me, no Labradors were harmed in this process. If someone came away with a bruise, it was me.

The abrupt change in direction reminded Tessa to stay in her heel position. When she was in the right place, she could anticipate my moves. She’d see me move to the right and adjust course. She could respond to a left turn without us tangling up.

We never did master this. Tessa usually walked two to three steps ahead of me, constantly looking back to make sure I was still going where she was going. Every walk had moments of correction. She would have enjoyed our walks so much more if she’d learned to stay in a heel.

Obedience School

I can’t help but think how much like Tessa I am when it comes to walking out my faith with Jesus. Sometimes I’m stubborn and don’t want to be on the journey with him at all. Other times I bolt out in front and then know the anxiety of wondering if he’s going where I’m going. I get distracted by the latest and greatest thing and head off in the wrong direction, or I get complacent and miss his prompting to move. I have experienced the not-always-gentle correction of the Holy Spirit reining me in, redirecting my path. I sense Jesus saying, You would enjoy this journey a whole lot more if you would follow me.

Dictionary.com defines follow as “to go or come after; move behind in the same direction.” There is no defined space or implied relationship between the leader and the follower. We could follow closely or at a great distance. We only need to be moving in the same direction. How we travel is up to us.

A little bit of geeky word-study reveals that, in the New Testament, the word follow has a much deeper implication. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, the Greek words for “follow” and “disciple” are interconnected in their meaning. The word akoloutheõ means to follow one who precedes you, attend to, or become a disciple of a leader’s teaching. The word mathetes means to be a disciple, student, follower; a committed learner and follower. With few exceptions, when we read the words follow and disciple in the Gospels, the writers intend to forge an understanding of interconnected space and relationship. We cannot be a disciple, a learner, from a distance. How we make the journey matters.

So when Jesus issued his “Follow me” invitation to the men who would become his disciples, he was doing more than asking them to geographically end up in the same place as him. He was beckoning them into sharing life with him for the next three years. They would do plenty of literal walking together, but Jesus was inviting them to stick close and learn how to become who God intended them to be—from him. Jesus was the trainer; the disciples were the trainees. This was sort of like the disciples’ version of obedience school. Jesus was teaching them to heel—emotionally, physically, and spiritually. They were learning to let Jesus lead.

The disciples experienced their own instances of correction when they forgot and got ahead of him or deviated too far from Jesus’s leading. Peter was chastised for his brash words and impetuous actions. James and John were reined in when their tempers threatened. All of them were on the receiving end of Jesus’s rebuke when they wanted to send the children away or tell the people to fend for themselves for dinner. Following is hard. It was hard for them, and it’s hard for us.

Psalm 119:105 tells us that God’s Word is a lamp lighting our path. John opens his Gospel by identifying Jesus as God’s Word and God’s Word as Jesus. And Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12 NIV, emphasis added).

If we get out in front, lag too far behind, or take our eyes off our leader, we’ll be walking in the dark, missing course changes, and lacking security, confidence, and peace. When we follow Jesus, he is the light that distinguishes truth from falsehood. He is the light that establishes direction. When we yield leadership and relinquish control to the Holy Spirit, he illuminates our path, gives us counsel, and provides wisdom and insight for our day-to-day decisions. This is how we become who God created us to be.

A Lifelong Exercise

Learning to follow is a lifelong training exercise. Some days we do it well, and other days we experience a lot of correction. Tessa had to learn that heeling was in her best interest. We need to learn this too. God will give us plenty of slack to make decisions contrary to his leading, and we might never master this following thing. But the more we practice, the more we keep our eyes on Jesus, the greater our security and peace that we’re going where God is going and the more confidence we’ll have in our ability to anticipate the Holy Spirit’s prompting. Best of all, we’ll experience the full extent of the joy Christ desires for us on the journey.

Who doesn’t need a little more joy?

Denise Roberts loves doing life with her husband, Blake, morning snuggles with her one-hundred-pound chocolate Lab, French fries, and Chick-fil-A lemonade. She’s an empty-nester mom who prays she didn’t mess up her kids too badly. Her greatest joy is writing about her experiences when Jesus steps on her toes, picks her up, and dusts her off so others can discover him at the intersection of faith and life for themselves. Connect with her at www.deniseroberts.org.

Photograph © Rob Wingate, used with permission