Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

The lid of another empty picnic basket swished silently closed, as disappointment washed over the owner’s face. There was nothing left. Not even crumbs. The stash of bread and fruit, and fish meant to nourish them for the entire journey was gone, and they still needed to make the journey home. The food had been good while it lasted. It would have been better had it lasted longer. No one told them they would be gone so long. No one suggested packing extra in case the meetings ran long. No one slipped an emergency loaf into their hands as they walked out the door. They hadn’t thought they needed it. Never would they have expected to be gone so long. Their provision packing proved it. They hadn’t meant to spend three days in a remote place, far from home, listening to Jesus teach. Most had figured on an afternoon. Many had planned for a day. Based on reports from other places, some thought it might last a bit longer. Some hoped it would go on indefinitely. Only a handful planned for it. Now here they sat, miles from the nearest market. Stomachs rumbling. Provisions gone. Options limited. (Mark 8:1-8)

It was not a new scenario for the disciples. They had seen it before. Not long ago they stood beside Jesus as He looked out over an even larger crowd in another remote place. They, too, had gathered to hear Him teach. They were engrossed in the message, intent on learning, oblivious to the dipping sun and darkening sky. They also had nothing to eat. Concerned, either for their own grumbling stomachs or the well-being of the gathered people, the disciples suggested Jesus release them. Now. Send them home in time for dinner. Get them to town before the food stalls lowered their blinds for the day. But Jesus had another idea. They could feed them right there. Have an enormous picnic. Put on a spread the gathered people would never forget.  

Commanded to investigate possible food sources, the disciples mingled with the crowd until they found five tiny rolls and two measly fish. It was barely enough for one person. It would never be enough. They hauled it back to Jesus, anyway. Carefully taking the measly haul in His hands, Jesus lifted them up to heaven, blessed them, and handed them back to the disciples. Five loaves divided between twelve men, meant to feed thousands of people. It seemed impossible. It wasn’t. Every time the disciples prepared to hand out the final chunk of bread, more appeared. When they counted heads and knew there was too few fish, it just kept coming as though they had cooked an entire night’s catch. The people ate as much as they wanted. Large first helpings. Generous second helpings. Some had thirds. Others gathered a little for the journey home. Still, when it was all said and done, when the final person had taken all they wanted, when everyone had left for home, when the disciples were done cleaning up all the leftovers, there were twelve baskets of food remaining. No one had to leave hungry. The Bread of Life gave them bread to sustain life. They could have as much as they wanted. (Mark 6:35-44)

You can almost hear the disciples heave a frustrated sigh as they watched this new group of people checking their empty provision bags, searching their pockets for mints, surreptitiously looking around to see if anyone had a slice of bread they would be willing to share. Maybe the disciples silently wondered if the people purposely came ill-prepared. Perhaps they questioned their motives. Were they really here to listen and learn, or were they simply a bunch of Looky-Lou’s out to see what kind of spread Jesus would lay out to silence their stomachs? 

No one would ever know the answer to that question, but everyone should have been able to predict Jesus’ response. He felt sorry for them. Just like last time. He looked at their faces, heard their stomachs rumble, mentally measured the distance to town and home, and took pity on them. They had been a good audience. Their motives were largely pure. So they hadn’t planned properly. It was okay. How were they to know they would be there for three days? They couldn’t have known they needed to ration their food. And, although He needed to move on to the next town, He couldn’t send them into the highways and byways without feeding them. Some of them had run out of provisions a day ago. The lack of sustenance could see them fainting before they ever reached town. No. The people needed to eat. The disciples needed to feed them. Now. With whatever they had on hand. 

Going out to search among the people for any available rations, the disciples came back with seven loaves of bread and a handful of fish. They already knew what Jesus was going to do. He would bless it, break it, and hand it back to them to distribute. The tiny, nearly stale loaves would become large, endless slices of tender bread, the fish would stretch to fill the chinks in every belly. No one would walk away hungry. They could all have as much as they wanted. Physical bread to sustain their lives as they traveled to their earthly home. Spiritual bread to sustain their souls as they traveled to their heavenly home. The Bread of Life for every breath of life. It could all be found in Jesus. And every person could have as much–or as little–as they wanted. The disciples knew it. Now the people would know it too. Not by hearsay. By experience. They could have all of Jesus they wanted. (Mark 8:1-8)

That was exactly how it went. The disciples brought the loaves and fishes to Jesus. He blessed them. Handed them back. The disciples distributed them. The people ate. Large first helpings. Generous second helpings. Some had thirds. Others filled their pockets with rations for the journey home. Everyone got everything they needed. All they wanted. As much as they could handle. There was no limit. On anything. Not on the food. Not on Jesus. Everyone could have as much as they wanted. There was more than enough to go around. No one needed to leave hungry. And they didn’t. They left knowing what others had yet to find out. You can have all of Jesus you want. He is the Bread of Life for every breath of your life. 

Nearly two decades ago, God spoke that very lesson to me in the middle of a grocery store aisle. I was moping. Saddled with a list of physical issues that had me studiously reading every ingredient label on the shelf–and putting most of them back–I was frustrated and irritated and not a little annoyed. Sighing to myself, I nearly gave in to the self-pity when a highly recognizable, still, small voice whispered in my ear, “You can have all of Jesus you want.” Hands curled around the handle of my shopping cart, I stood utterly still and absorbed that truth. There are no allergies to the Bread of life. Jesus will not negatively affect your blood pressure or excessively elevate your heart rate. Time spent with Him will not heighten the effects of your chronic illness. You can have as much of Jesus as you want, as often as you like. There is unlimited supply. Your heart doesn’t need to go hungry. He is the Bread of life for every breath of your life. You can have all of Jesus you want. 

I think that is the part of Jesus’ miraculous multiplication that we often overlook. We get so flabbergasted by the enormous miracle that we miss the intended takeaway. The part about the Miracle Maker Himself. We miss the fact that Jesus is the never-ending Bread of Life to sustain us through every breath of our lives. And He is not in short supply. He never sends anyone away. Not the hungry heart. Not the parched soul. All who come to Him with sincere hearts, longing for His presence, seeking His kingdom, hungering and thirsting for His righteousness will be filled. That is the promise. No one goes away hungry. No one leaves thirsty. Jesus is the Bread and Water of life, for every part of your life. And you can have all of Jesus you want. (John 4:13-14; 6:35; 7:37-38; Isaiah 55:1-2; Matthew 5:6; 11:28-29; I Corinthians 5:8; I Peter 5:7; Psalm 46:1)

Perhaps that’s the rub. How much of Jesus do you want? Are you happy with a sip and a crust, or do you hunger and thirst for more? Constantly. Do you understand your need to have the Bread of life for every breath of your life? Every single inhale and exhale. Do you comprehend the urgency to have the Water of life poured into your parched soul? Do you want Jesus more than you long for the treasures and trinkets of the world? Do you hunger and thirst for Him? Are you willing to clear out your heart to be saturated with His presence, or are you trying to keep Him contained in one tiny space? Honestly. How much of Jesus do you want? Because you can have it. All of it. There’s no limit. You can spend every day drinking in His presence. You can continually feed your soul at the table of grace. You never need to be hungry.  You can have as much of Jesus as you want. (John 15:4; Jeremiah 29:13; James 4:8; Psalm 119:2)

Jubilation surged through their veins at His words. The time had finally come. The event prophesied centuries earlier was about to become reality. Their reality. Right here. Right now. It was going to be glorious. Breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. The warrior of God would ride into the land, toppling thrones, crushing kingdoms, single-handedly defeating entire armies. It would be a bloodbath. Their enemies would be slaughtered or flee. God would reign. Their God. They would finally be out from under Roman rule. The land would become God’s kingdom. They would be His people. Very soon it would happen. Jesus had just said so. Except He hadn’t. (Mark 1:15)

The people had misunderstood, failed to listen to His heart. Still, they waited expectantly. Days. Weeks. They followed Jesus everywhere they could. Watching. Waiting. Desperate to be present at the exact moment He called in the troops. Yet no unexpected warriors arrived. No one stormed the palace. There was no grand coup. Nothing they expected happened. Jesus didn’t even seem interested in assuming the throne. But they were very much interested. They had been waiting for this day all their lives. Waiting for the moment when God would come and set up His earthly kingdom. God would deliver them from the mess around them. God would make everything new. The lamb and lion would lie down together. The people would rest peacefully and know no fear. They were so ready for that kingdom. So intent on finding it, in fact, that they missed the kingdom standing right in front of them. The kingdom of God. On earth. In Jesus.

Perhaps they had missed part of the prophecy. Maybe they had trouble interpreting them, like many of us do. Maybe they had heard one too many tales from parents and grandparents. Well-intentioned tales. Stories about the coming Messiah and Kingdom of God slightly embellished to make them remember the promises and watch for their arrival. Perhaps, over the years, the stories had taken on a fairy tale twist. A triumphant warrior, clothed in glistening white, would charge up to the palace steps on his snorting stallion. They would slide to a halt in a cloud of dust. The warriors face would be set in stone, his muscles would bulge, the spear in his hand would rival that of Goliath’s. His stare would stop his enemies in their tracks. His voice, when he chose to speak, would shake the heavens and rattle the earth. So terrifying would his visage be that his enemies wouldn’t argue when he commanded them to abdicate their thrones. In fear, they would come out, cowering before His fury, gladly exchanging their lives for the reins of the kingdom. The tables would turn. Kings would become peasants. Slaves would become free. And the people long held under Roman rule would become the ruling party. The leader would be their God. They would be His people. God’s kingdom would be there. On earth. Among them. 

Jesus wasn’t there for that. Not yet, anyway. He wasn’t there to overthrow the current regime and establish God’s physical kingdom on earth. He was on a different mission. A mission to build God’s kingdom on earth in the hearts of mankind. He came to bring light and life to those wandering in darkness, just like the prophet Isaiah had said. Jesus was God’s kingdom on earth. His body was the throneroom of God. His life was a place where the Father reigned supreme and God’s will would always be done. He came to model kingdom living for people and to establish it in every willing human heart. Jesus came to invite humanity to be part of God’s kingdom living on earth before God’s final kingdom ever came, reserving their place in God’s eternal kingdom forever. Yes. God’s kingdom had come. It was right in front of them. And they missed it. (Isaiah 9:2)

It’s such a shame, really. The concept wasn’t difficult. There was only one directive. Not even a new one. The same one John the Baptist had preached prior to his imprisonment. Jesus picked up right where he left off. Repent and believe. There was nothing else. Repent of your sins. Clean out your hearts. Surrender completely to God. Believe the words coming from Jesus’ lips. The kingdom of God was near. To them. It was close by. So close. It was Jesus. He was the kingdom of God incarnate. They could be part of that living, earthly kingdom as well. They simply had to repent and believe. (Mark 1:14-15)

There is still nothing else. Although Jesus is not physically walking our world today, the opportunity to be part of God’s living, earthly kingdom is still available. The requirements are still the same as well. Repent of your sin. Leave it behind. Completely. Don’t try to carry any of it along. And believe God. His words. His commands. His promises. Believe that His way is best, His will is flawless. Trust that His plan is bigger and better than yours, even if you can’t see it, don’t understand it, or it isn’t unfolding the way you thought it would. Give yourself over to God. All of yourself. Don’t hold anything back. Allow Him to inhabit you, dwell in you, be King of your life. Fully surrender to God. Because being God’s kingdom on earth requires us to be a person, a place, where God’s will and only God’s will is done. Just as it is in His kingdom in Heaven. (Matthew 6:10; Acts 3:19; Isaiah 55:7; Ezekiel 18:30; Luke 17:21)

Jesus was then, and is now, our example. He was a person, a place where God’s will was done. Jesus was human. He got tired. He felt hunger. He had emotions. Anger surged through His veins just as much as joy and peace flowed from His heart. Bowing in the Garden of Gethsemane, anxiety and trepidation flowed from His lips as He asked God to rethink the coming chain of events. Change this. Save humanity in a different way. Yet, ultimately, with the next breath, He surrendered Himself to the will of God, continuing to be the living, breathing, sacrificial kingdom of God so you and I could someday be the people of God, doing the will of God, being the kingdom of God in a spiritually lost and dying world. Jesus died so you could be part of God’s kingdom on earth. Right now. Today. (I Peter 2:21; John 13:15; Matthew 26:36-56; II Corinthians 5:15)

Now as then, God’s kingdom is near. Not in the physical person of Jesus Christ, but in the spiritual presence of Almighty God. He walks among us, whispers our names, offers us the opportunity to be His kingdom on earth. He wants us to know Him and let the power of His resurrection live in our hearts. He extends the opportunity to live His love and grace and mercy out loud in a world ringing with the cacophony of selfishness, revenge, and hate. He requires one thing. Surrender. Complete surrender. When it is easy. When it is hard. When it seems like there has to be another way. Being God’s kingdom on earth requires you to be completely sold out to God’s will. For you. For your family. For your world. Even when it doesn’t look the way you hoped it would. Even when He doesn’t give you the answers you wish He would. Even when you can think of a million different scenarios you believe would be better and have the same effect. To be part of God’s kingdom on earth, you must repent of your sins and believe in God’s ability to direct your life better than you ever could. You must surrender to His will and His way. Your life must be the place His will is done. Always. Then live like it. Live a life that tells everyone the Kingdom of God is near. Close by. At hand. In you. (Philippians 3:10; Galatians 2:20; Matthew 16:24; Romans 12:1-2)

Tossing his axe and measuring line aside, he stretched his back and reached for his canteen. He needed a drink. Probably needed a shower. Sweat was running down his brow at an alarming rate. Yuck. Taking a long drink, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and surveyed his project. A grin kicked up the corner of his mouth. This thing was massive. Bigger than anything he ever would have imagined. He knew it would be. As soon as he heard the dimensions, the sheer magnitude of the project made him nervous. He’d fallen into a rhythm with the building, though, and staring at the half-finished product had Noah excited to see the end result. A floating zoo. Completely organized into levels and stalls, waterproofed with tar, able to withstand any oncoming flood. Who would have thought it possible?

Certainly not Noah. He’d never imagined a devastating flood sweeping away homes and humans, uprooting trees and destroying fields. When God began handing down directives for material and dimensions, his head swam. Not in water. In plans. Every command must be followed exactly. Every measurement. Every material. Cypress wood. Tar. Decks. Stalls. Ridiculously long. Crazily wide. Wildly high. A place for everything and everything in its designated space. Humans. Animals. Food. Every area had a specific purpose. Nothing was wasted. No need was overlooked. Gazing at the half-built creation, Noah couldn’t keep the glint of admiration from his eye. God had certainly done a magnificent job. Again. 

Bending back to his task, Noah ruminated over the things God had done. It was all fantastic. Nothing God had done was ever flawed. Humans might have mucked things up from time to time, but God, He did everything perfectly. Noah believed that with his entire being. He believed God did everything well. Everything. That belief held him steady in the current social climate of apathy and complacency when people were more concerned about their social calendars than their spiritual connections. It guided his steps as he chose to live in obedience to God rather than adherence to the world. It encouraged him to spend time in silence, learning to hear God’s voice above the pandemonium of earth. It helped him live blamelessly before God, eschewing the evil around him to meticulously follow the paths of righteousness alone. 

Noah’s choices hadn’t made him popular. With people. His adjectives in society were less than complimentary. When people weren’t ignoring him, they were mocking him. It didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. He’d made a choice. He belonged to God. He wasn’t ashamed of it. He believed it was better to suffer social rejection on earth than spiritual rejection in eternity. Noah knew his adjectives with God were of far greater importance. They spoke of who he really was, told how God saw him. Blameless. Righteous. Faithful.

His ancestor Enoch had similar adjectives. The few sentences of his story reverberate with them. Enoch walked with God. Closely. Inhabited that space. Their relationship was so close, in fact, that Enoch never endured the throes of death. He simply disappeared. So deeply did God long to have His friend Enoch in His physical presence, that God took him. No one questioned where he went. No one panicked. No one sent out a search party. His choice to live in obedient fellowship with God was all the answer anyone needed. He was blameless. He was righteous. He was faithful. And God took him. (Genesis 5:22-23)

It was that same type of legacy Noah wanted to leave for his descendants. An example of living uprightly in a society whose moral compass decidedly failed to point due north. As people mocked him, begged him to join them, tempted him with things that seemed innocuous yet were tinged with sin, Noah planted his flag and stood alone. He wasn’t interested in their tomfoolery. He had no desire to partake in their wicked shenanigans. He would not be swayed by their abhorrently evil imaginations. And, when God spoke, asking him to do something outrageous, Noah chose to walk in complete obedience no matter what the people around him chose to do or say. Blameless. Righteous. Faithful. 

The choice had led him to this place. Standing before an enormous, if only half-finished, boat of cypress wood and tar. Mentally planning which step to do next. Carefully considering where each animal would live. Wondering how he was going to get all those animals on board. Imagining what the outside world would be enduring while he was tucked safely away on the boat. Wishing more people could come with him. Regretful that no others seemed concerned with his sudden sailing fascination. Saddened that so many people had chosen to find their adjectives in worldly pleasures rather than in obedience to God. (Genesis 6)

As the first drops of rain splashed on the ground outside the ark, one wonders what the people there were thinking. Perhaps, buried so deep in their preoccupation with their parties and banquets and weddings, they didn’t even notice the puddles beginning to form. Maybe they commented on the much-needed rain, but failed to notice its relentlessness. Perhaps they chuckled and joked about Noah finally getting some water to float his boat. But as the waters rose and dry land began to disappear, they realized this was no laughing matter. Noah was right all along. Not just about an impending flood and the necessity of a boat. Noah was right about other things too. Things like his adjectives and how to get the ones that matter. 

You see, not everything people call you matters. In fact, very little of what people call you matters. What society sees in you or thinks about you has absolutely no bearing on what God calls you. Nor does it matter. Only what God calls you matters. Not just the noun. The adjectives. Those descriptors of what is truly in your heart. The words that grow from the choices you regularly make. Obedient. Faithful. Blameless. Righteous. Enoch lived it. Noah knew it. Job endured it. What God knew about Job couldn’t be seen by the human eye. The words God used to describe Job had nothing to do with his wealth and status. When God needed to put Job into words, He used only a handful. And they are fantastic. Honest. Blameless. Upright. God-fearing. Self-controlled. They weren’t the words everyone else used. They had nothing to do with his ridiculous number of sheep and camels, oxen, and donkeys. They didn’t even hint at his affluence. Yet they were the words that mattered. The only words. God’s words. His adjectives. Predicated on Job’s unwavering obedience to Him. (Job 1:8; I Samuel 16:7; Luke 16:15; Matthew 23:27-28; James 2:1-4) 

In a world and time and society where the words people use to describe us feel like they matter so much, it is imperative to take a quiet moment to be honest with ourselves about what God calls us. Each of us. Individually. Not the noun. The adjectives. Our descriptors. The things God would say if He were describing us today. Words uncovering what is in our hearts. Words we choose through our obedience, or lack thereof, to God. Words that will stand the scrutiny of His righteous judgment. Obedient. Faithful. Upright. Blameless. Righteous. Adjectives that matter. Qualities time can’t fade, and circumstances are unable to change. Words of God. About the people of God. Adjectives you choose. What are yours? (Jeremiah 17:10; Proverbs 21:2; John 7:24; I Corinthians 4:3-13; Deuteronomy 28:1)

A contented sigh crossed God’s smiling lips as He listened to the sounds of nocturnal animals and insects going about their business. The sun was dipping behind the western horizon. Day six had come to a close. He had spent them meticulously planning and busily creating, making perfection for the humans into whom He had just breathed the breath of life. Gone was the shapeless, empty darkness with which He had started. Light had driven away darkness. Flora and fauna had edged out the emptiness. The earth overflowed with life and beauty. It had been an incredible journey. One He hadn’t wanted to rush. He could have. God could have done it all in one day, one second, with just the sound of His voice. He didn’t. The artist in Him chose to do it slowly, carefully. So He had. And now it was finished. Day six was done. Land and sky were in place. Water flowed in all the right places. Plants and trees thrived. Birds sang. Fish swam. Animals frolicked. People lived. His smile widened at the thought and sight. People lived. (Genesis 1) 

They were the crowning jewel of His creation. Not because they were the most beautiful, colorful, or eye-catching. No. There were plenty of things with those characteristics. Humanity, not so much. Humans were special because God literally created them. With His hands. Taking dust from the ground, He fastidiously bent and twisted, formed and sculpted every part of the human body. Internal organs. External features. Hair. Ears. Mouth. Nose. When the perfect human form was created, God came near. So near. He lowered Himself to that lifeless form and breathed the breath of life into man’s nostrils. His breath. God’s breath. Man’s life. (Genesis 2:7)

One would think, as we picture God, relaxing in His rocking chair on Heaven’s front porch, gazing out over His creation, that His work was done. There was nothing left to do. Creation was finished. It was day seven. A day of rest. A day that would be marked as a commanded day of respite until the end of time. But Monday was coming. God’s work wasn’t done the moment He finished outfitting the world with all its life-sustaining necessities. His task wasn’t complete when He spun the globe into space. There would be more to do. More creating. More re-creating. God would spend every day of every century of time going through the same steps He had just completed. Not on a planet flung into space. In the hearts and lives of humanity. 

In the ensuing centuries, God has never quit creating. And re-creating. He has never stopped making something out of nothing. His Spirit still hovers over the darkened waters that fill and trouble our empty souls. In grace and mercy, He sends His light to pierce our darkness, offering us the opportunity to live in the vibrancy of His presence. He calls us to separate ourselves from the darkness of the world. A complete separation. Like the space between the earth and sky, the line between dry land and ocean waves. Make a definitive space between our souls and the tug of earth’s attractions. Like the line of ocean waters on sandy beaches, we are asked to make a delineating line over which we cannot be pulled back into the darkness of sin. Be separate. Be devoted to Him alone. (I John 2:15-17; Ephesians 5:11; I Peter 2:9; II Corinthians 5:17; Job 38:11)

There, in that space created for Him alone, God plants the seeds of righteousness and holiness. Seeds that will grow and spread and produce in our lives the things that please Him. Actions and attitudes that tell the world we belong to God in every circumstance and situation. Words that offer others the same grace and mercy we have so unworthily received. Morals and ethics that honor God, refusing to bend no matter the social pressure or lowered standards of our world. Works, as John the Baptist preached, that exhibit our repentance and the new creation we have become through the grace of our Creator, who is still busily creating centuries after He spoke the world into space. (Matthew 3:8; James 2:17; Acts 26:20; Corinthians 5:17)

 God still isn’t done. Not in us. Not in our world. But He’s not about keeping all the action to Himself, either. He offers us an opportunity to be part of it. He asks us to be His light in the world. In the darkened spaces where the voices are loud and the distractions strong, where the pull of sin is like a rip tide tugging at the souls stranded there. God asks us to be so full of Himself that, like the stars in the night sky, we illuminate the encroaching darkness around us. We light up the path to Jesus. We offer those hopelessly lost and helplessly drifting on the sea of despair a light to follow, a hope to claim, a direction to travel that they might be re-created, too. God calls us, commands us, to be lights in the world, to be fruitful and work to multiply His kingdom. Because God is busy making all things new. (Genesis 1:28; Matthew 5:14; Philippians 2:15; Ephesians 5:8; Revelation 21:5)

It doesn’t feel like it. As we read the news, listen to the pundits, talk to the neighbors, we find ourselves nodding in agreement with the words recorded in Ecclesiastes. Techniques and abilities may improve, but motivation remains the same. Nothing really changes. Nothing is ever truly new. What is being done now has been done before. Sin is accepted. Evil runs rampant. Wickedness flourishes. Casting our eye to every corner of our world, it appears God’s creative juices have ground to a halt. Darkness is encroaching. Just as it has in every generation in the history of the world. Nothing is new. Nothing is changing. Nothing is being re-created. Not that we can see. Sitting in that moment, our eyes fixed on the darkening sky, we find ourselves tempted to stop being the light. Hunker down in our bunker. Quietly conceal our own re-creation. Blend in with the world around us. Give in to the sins that so easily beset us. Gossip. Slander. Selfishness. Discontent. Slip into the edges of the darkness that dims the light of God in our lives and sours our spiritual fruit. But that isn’t why we were created and God isn’t finished with us. Not even close. 

From the dawn of day one to this very moment, God has always wanted to live in relationship with humanity. All humanity. Broken hearts. Damaged emotions. Empty lives. Darkened souls. Everyone. Everywhere. There are no exceptions. In grace and mercy, God looks on the people He unfailingly loves and sees what they could be if they would allow Him to make them a new creation. He hovers over their hearts, gently piercing the darkness of sin with the light of His presence. No soul is outside the reach of His grace. No heart is beyond the range of His mercy. No one is too far gone, too broken, too damaged, too lost. Because, just like day one of creation, when there was nothing, God stepped in and made something. Something worthwhile. Something productive. Something beautiful. He filled the dark void with the vibrant light of His presence. When everything amounted to nothing, God created something. (Romans 8:38-39; Zephaniah 3:17; Revelation 3:20; Jeremiah 31:3)

Perhaps you are living in that exact space. A place of nothing, when life stretches before you empty and useless. The future looks bleak and dark. You feel adrift on the inky waters of the darkest night of your soul. Don’t give up. God is there. He has always been there. He will always be there. He wants to make you new. He wants to illuminate your path. He wants to know you and be known by you. He wants to cultivate a relationship with you. He wants to be your first response, not your last resort. He wants to be the refuge to whom you continually flee in times of distress, discouragement, disgruntlement. God wants to change your life. Make it new. Make you new. Just as He has been doing since the dawn of creation, God is making all things new. He isn’t done. Not in me. Not in you. God is still miraculously turning nothing into something, driving out darkness with light, and nurturing relationship with His people. So let Him work. Let God do what He does. Let Him speak life and hope and nourishment into the dry, dark, and lifeless spaces of your heart. Surrender yourself, your situation, your circumstances to God and let Him make all things new. (Isaiah 44:6; Colossians 1:13-17; Ezekiel 11:19, 26:36; Jeremiah 9:24; Galatians 4:9; Deuteronomy 31:8; Psalm 71:3)

Disgruntled aggravation settled in the lines of the disciples faces as the slap of sandals sounded on the hardened path behind them. Seriously!? This was not the plan. At all. Their schedule had effectively been dismantled by a horde of sticky-fingered, dusty, runny-nosed children, and now some crazy guy was racing up behind them, calling out to Jesus, actively thwarting their attempt to get on the road.  

Heaving irritated sighs, the disciples turned to watch as the young man screeched to a halt and dropped to his knees before Jesus. A quick perusal of his carriage and attire told his story. This wasn’t just some average guy. Although disheveled from his near-sprint through town, his wealth was glaringly apparent. Robe of the finest quality. Sandals of the best leather. Hands adorned with heavy gold rings. When his breathing calmed enough for him to speak, his voice was well modulated, his verbiage educated. The disciples wondered what he could possibly need from Jesus. 

Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait to find out. The first words breathlessly blurted out formed a question that had doubtless been eating away at his conscience for quite some time. “Teacher, what can I do to secure eternal life?” Silence fell over the disciples. The infernal bellyaching about a journey and timetable stopped. They gathered closer. Not in an effort to ward off the man. No. They didn’t want him to go anywhere. Not before they heard the answer to his question. If there was a way to buy, borrow, or earn eternal life, they absolutely wanted to know about it. If there was a neat trick, a side door, an easier way, they certainly wanted to use it. But their hope for such a clue was useless. There wasn’t one. Jesus’ answer was the same one they had been hearing all their lives. Obey the commandments. The ones everyone knows. Don’t kill. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t lie to, steal from, or defraud your neighbor. Respect and honor your parents. That was it. No side roads. No tricks. No surprises. Keep the law. It was that simple. They had been doing it their entire lives. 

An enormous sigh of relief echoed from the young man before them at the realization. Worry lines relaxed in a smile. This was good news. He was already safe. He’d learned to keep all those commands as a child. He’d been raised to strictly adhere to those principles. His worries had been for nothing. Random kernels of thought blown out of proportion. What a relief! This eternal life thing was easier than he’d anticipated! His life didn’t need to change at all. Except it did.

Unfortunately for the young man, his celebratory congratulations were premature. Jesus wasn’t finished speaking. His next words fell like grenades into the lightened heart of the rich young man. Heavy words. Hard words. Honest words. Words laced with the everlasting love of the God who is unwilling that anyone should perish in their sins and wants everyone to have eternal life. “Sell it all. Everything you own. Houses. Vineyards. Flocks. Herds. Elaborate jewelry. Embroidered cloaks. Costly sandals. Give it all up. Sell it all. Give the earnings away. Feed the orphans. Pay the widow’s bills. Donate to the poorhouse. When it is all gone, when everything you hold dear on this earth has become nothing to you, come, follow Me.” (Mark 10:13-22; II Peter 3:9)

Centuries later, in another time, another place, a different society, it is impossible for us to fully comprehend the impact of those words on that young man. We can only know how they would affect us today. Having found our security in our physical abilities, mental faculties, and financial accounts, our hearts quake at the very thought of letting go of it all to blindly follow Jesus Christ! Our hearts and minds stop just short of unequivocal surrendering everything to God so He can accomplish His will, His way. The very concept causes our fingers to involuntarily tighten around the imaginary controls of our lives. Standing utterly still, we carefully weigh the cost. Is relinquishing everything to gain the One thing worth anything really worth it? 

The young man must have felt something similar. Staggering under the weight of Jesus’ words, his eyes filled with tears. He thought of his comfortable bed, cushy sandals, soft robes. He considered his servants, houses, and lands. He mentally tallied his gold and silver. He remembered the parties and friends and festivities of his current lifestyle. And he made his choice. The cost was too great. His things too important. He loved them far too much. Standing there in that crossroads, weighing the earthly against the eternal, he made his final determination. Following Jesus simply wasn’t worth it. Lowering his eyes, he backed away, surrendering his life to the world and his eternity to damnation. His expensive sandals were nearly sounless as he disappeared down the road. His choice told the story. He got the answer he came for, but not the answer he wanted. He chose to exchange his soul for the world. 

Astonishment covered the disciples’ faces. They were acutely familiar with leaving everything behind to follow Jesus. They had done it themselves. Laid aside their nets. Abandon their boats. Forfeited their livelihoods. Admittedly, they hadn’t had as much to lose. They weren’t living in the lap of luxury. Eating bonbons. Entertaining beautiful women. Nothing currently in their world held them back. Not the boat, the net, the fish, the sea. Not James and John’s father. Not one stopped to question what they would eat, where they would sleep, or how they would survive. They simply chose to abandon everything earthly for the glorious opportunity to walk with Jesus for eternity. Why? Because their hearts knew what their minds were only still grasping. Jesus was worth it. (Mark 1:16-20)

So worth it, in fact, that they followed immediately. There was no hesitation. No hosting farewell parties. No visiting relatives. No sorting and packing, and closing up their homes. Jesus said, “Follow me,” and they did. Immediately. Even Matthew. Sitting in his tax booth, Matthew was busy. People were lined up waiting their turn at his window. He had a job to do right where he was. Authorities relied on him to do his job. His paycheck was dependable. Yet, when Jesus called, he immediately hung his “Closed” sign in the window, hopped out of his booth, resigned from his job, and signed on for a future of preaching, persecution, and poverty. Why? Because Matthew knew the tallies. He knew the earthly cost of following Jesus was far less than the eternal cost of denying Him. (Mark 2:13-15)

He wouldn’t be the last to decide this. The Bible teems with accounts of individuals who gave up security, dignity, prosperity, and social safety because they deemed Jesus worth it. Martyrs of the faith, like Stephen. Offenders turned defenders of the faith like Saul turned Paul. Preachers and missionaries of the Gospel when it wasn’t popular or prosperous. Philip. Silas. Barnabas. Followers of Jesus Christ who refused to be deterred by persistent confrontation, raging persecution, or threat of prosecution. People who believed with every fiber of their being that following Jesus was worth anything, even if it required giving up everything, because their lives would be worth nothing unless they gained the One thing worth having–the daily presence of Jesus Christ in their lives. (Acts 4-28)

Accounts of people making that bold choice are not limited to the tissue pages of your Bible and yellowed pages of history books. People consistently give their lives, their resources, their time, their talents completely to Christ, deeming nothing worth more than following Him. People from your lifetime, your list of acquaintances, your neighbors, your friends. People who so strongly believe Jesus is worth everything, worth anything, that they have sacrificed it all to follow Him. Maybe you have watched their lives, been astonished at what they have been willing to give up, leave behind, or deny themselves. Perhaps you have shaken your head and wondered how they were going to live without constant internet access, shopping, recreation, family, or friends. Maybe you have heard the call yourself, but are hesitant. Weighing the options. Wondering if full surrender and absolute abandonment of your own selfish pursuits is truly worth it. Hear me when I say this. It is. Following Jesus is worth anything, worth everything. No matter what. But you have to choose it for yourself. You have to relinquish yourself willingly. God will never take the wheel without you asking. He won’t hook up a tow and forcibly drag you His way. He will call. The choice to follow will always be yours alone. 

Knowing that truth, I feel compelled to ask, how much is Jesus worth to you? Is He worth more than the boat and house, and vacation? Is your relationship with Christ worth more than your social status, friend count, or family connections? Is following Him more important than chasing a list of achievements, accolades, and adulations? Is Jesus worth more to you than the new job, the college acceptance, the team win? Would you sacrifice the earthly to gain the eternal? Is Jesus worth anything to you? Is He worth everything to you? What place does Jesus hold in your life? Are you willing to answer His call to lay it all down, set it all aside, sell it, drop it, give it away, and come, follow Him? Right now? Today? (Mark 10:23-31)

If you don’t have an answer, friend, you need one. Just as He did the rich young ruler, the disciples, the saints who decorate the halls of time, Jesus is calling. Calling you. He’s saying the same thing he said to each of them in one manner or another. “Lay it all down. Give it all up. Come. Follow Me. Completely. Immediately.” Only you can choose the answer. Only you know if there is anything in your life that keeps you from wholly following Jesus. Earthly comfort. Social accolades. Worldly ideals. Only you can decide if He is worth it. But weigh it wisely. Think long and hard. Ask yourself serious questions. With this world passing away and eternity stretching before you, is it worth it to trade the eternal for the earthly? Is following Jesus worth it to you? Worth everything? Worth anything? Worth losing the world but gaining your soul? Do you know and believe in the heart of your being that following Jesus is worth anything, even if it means sacrificing everything, to gain the one thing most worth having? “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1:27; Philippians 3:7-8)

In New Testament parables, Jesus tells of a man who uncovered great treasure buried in a field. Desiring the treasure for his own, he sold everything he had to buy the field. Another man, a sea merchant, upon laying eyes on a pearl of enormous value, so desperately desired to have it that he sold everything he owned to buy it. The correlation is clear even if the question is only implied. Is Jesus your treasure, your pearl of great price? Is He worth everything, worth anything? Have you chosen Him above all things? In a world where you can have anything, have you chosen the One thing that is worth more than everything? I hope you have. I hope you do. I hope you, like the disciples, find the permanent presence of Jesus Christ to be worth more than the passing presents of this world. Poised on earth, gazing into the foreverness of eternity, weighing your options, I hope you choose Jesus. More than everything. More than anything. May you know and believe that following Jesus is worth it. (Matthew 13:44-46, 16:24, 19:29; Luke 9:23, 12:33; Mark 8:34-35; John 12:26)