Follow Me

In February 1941, during the German bombing of London in World War II, James Welch of the British Broadcasting Corporation wrote to an Oxford tutor known for his prize-winning scholarship on medieval literature. Would he do a war-time radio series? Altogether, C.S. Lewis would complete a four series of talks for the BBC, which later became the international bestseller *Mere Christianity.* It was an odd turn of events for a scholar who had spent many evenings reading Old Icelandic sagas with his friends at The Coalbiters.

I drive by the old RZIM headquarters at least once a week. Every time, I reactively grip my steering wheel tighter, look straight ahead, and try not to get pulled back into a dark place. But as I thought about Jesus at a charcoal fire, I realized God is inviting me to see a place of pain as the start of a good new life.

After I finished my D.Min. at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, I had to reckon with what my Major Project had concluded. After all, I'd written it. But interviewing thirty Christians who were following Jesus more faithfully than I was and studying how dozens of theologians defined discipleship had shaken me. I had to admit to myself that the way I'd been doing ministry wasn't going to help others follow Jesus. But neither did I want to pivot my entire approach to ministry. It was uncomfortable to change what I do and how I do it. I wanted to stay in my comfort zone instead of starting FriendsFollowingJesus.com and sharing my struggles with the world. But Jesus kept saying, "Follow me." So, I did.

During COVID, our church moved to live-streamed worship and Zoom calls for community groups. While I enjoyed the conversations, I sometimes felt tired and lonely after I closed my laptop. My bones felt hollow, like a bird in flight, and then I'd notice the ache in my chest. I missed hugs and handshakes. I felt bound by my conscience to stay at home and protect the vulnerable, but I knew why many of my fellow Christians couldn't help but meet in person, no matter the cost.

I recently contributed to two Meal Trains. One person had a baby, another is fighting cancer. I didn't know how to get a hot meal to either of their homes one night, so I sent gift cards. Two weeks ago, my wife broke her ankle. Multiple friends have come by with full meals. They're both valid ways to care, but nothing beats a knock on the door and a homemade pie.