When Following Christ Doesn't Make a Lick of Sense

I am a “big-picture” person. I try to take the little fragments of my life and relationships and try to fit them into a big picture. I want to know that it’s all going to work out in the end. I want to understand the purpose in everything.

I remember being eleven in a youth service and hearing the call of God to be a missionary. As I grew older, I found a passion for the inner city—for the poor, the hopeless, and the gangster. When I began a relationship with Michael, I remembering questioning God: This doesn’t make sense. His call is not the same. How are you going to work it all out?

I heard God tell me very clearly and simply, “Trust Me.” And I did. I took that leap of faith and fell madly in love with my husband. And I love him even more madly today (and I still like him too). But for the entirety of our relationship, I have tried to make sense of our differences. I have tried to figure out a way that God could work it so that we could both be walking in our calling and that somehow our callings would work together. And since he’s taken this job in law enforcement, it’s felt a little like dying. I can’t figure out how God could possibly work it together. I can’t see the end result. (Okay and please don’t mishear. I am super proud of my husband. I am writing through my struggle of learning to trust God.)

I know that I serve a God whose ways and thoughts are far above human reasoning. But I think I fail to realize this applies to me. Gods ways didn’t make sense to Abraham, Moses, Gideon, Ruth, Hannah, David, Esther, Zechariah, Mary, Peter, Paul… pretty much everyone who God used in the Bible. I am fairly certain, I am not exempt. I will not be able to fathom God’s plans. I won’t be able to see the end result.

I will have to trust.

I will not be able to control the outcome.

I will need that substance of things hoped for and evidence of things not seen.{faith} 

There’s this passage in John that I keep thinking on (John 6:26-71). The disciples of Jesus were so impressed by his miracle of feeding the 5000 that they began asking him how they could see more of this. They asked for signs, they wanted to see so that they might believe. Jesus tells them that He is the bread of life. And then he goes on to tell them something that disturbs them:

“Unless you eat my body and drink my blood you cannot be my disciples.”

The Christ-followers are dumb-founded. Eat his body?! Drink his blood?! Surely Jesus didn’t mean that, like that… right?!

They wanted the miracles. They wanted that glorious, you-are-special-chosen-and-called-disciple-of-Jesus-Christ! You eat manna, you see miracles, and it’s amazing! They didn’t want the gospel that is unfathomable. They didn’t want blind faith. They wanted to SEE. They wanted it to MAKE SENSE.

And their response to Jesus’ way? “This is a hard statement,” and they go their separate way. They couldn’t follow Christ any longer.

I think of communion. 

 

This word that can mean eating the symbolic bread-for-flesh and blood-for-wine. This word that also means a deep sense of being and relationship.

“Unless you eat my body and drink my blood you cannot be my disciples.”

“If any of you wants to be my disciple, you must take up your cross daily and follow me.”

“Those who love their life in this world will lose it. Those who care nothing for their life in this world will keep it for eternity.”

I think of my dreams. I think of the way I can mix up this desire for a holy purpose (a calling) with knowing the voice of the One Who calls. I think of the way I try to do all of the sense-making when I am following a God who delights in doing that which makes no human sense.

I think of the way I still try to control God.

I fail to walk in communion—to eat his flesh and drink his blood. I refuse to allow him to be the only thing that satisfies. I live feeding my pride—thinking that I need to know, see, understand—thinking God needs me to figure it out for Him. I refuse to die so that I might live.

And it’s a hard thing. Who can follow?

I have a choice. I can turn away from following because I don’t want to believe in what I cannot see and does not make sense. Or I can take up my cross, walk in communion with Christ, and follow—destination unknown.

I keep coming back to the words of Peter when Jesus asks the twelve disciples if they would leave Him also, “Where would we go Lord? Only You have the words that give life. We have believed and know that you are the Christ, the Son of God.”

Amen.

Sometimes I completely stink at this whole Jesus-follower thing. But where else would I go? Only Jesus has the words that give life. 

Only. Jesus.

Jesus, I am letting go of control.

I choose You.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers