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Title: On Following Jesus
Scripture: “…and [they] followed Jesus.” Luke 5:11
I must say my hands are trembling a bit as I type these words. I’m not usually nervous about these kinds of things, but I started with a different sermon in mind. It was a good message, and I will probably share it next week. But given that this is the inaugural sermon of this ministry, it might be helpful to talk about our identity as a ministry — specifically, our theology, or how we understand God and what God expects of God’s people.
Perhaps the best lens for this is found in our scripture this morning, drawn from Luke 5:1-11, where Jesus asks soon-to-be disciples to go fishing again after they had spent the whole evening at sea with nothing to show for their efforts.
Reluctantly, the fishermen returned to the water — but this time, they went with Jesus. They secured so many fish that their nets were full to the brim. And it was after this miraculous haul that the fishermen began to follow Jesus and became disciples who would change the world.
For most of my adult life, I thought I knew what it meant to follow Jesus, what it meant to be a disciple. Now, there are probably many ways a person can be a faithful follower of God, but I was taught that a fairly conservative Christian theology was the only way to align with the God of creation.
The problem was that this conservative understanding of God often conflicted with what it meant to love people — and loving people is at the very core of who I understand God to be. This isn’t just a scriptural observation; it is a conviction I feel in the whole of my being.
Perhaps the most frustrating theological challenge was that much of what I learned painted the picture of a God who sorted people into boxes. Chief among these was the “valued box” — those deemed worthy of love, respect, and dignity — and the “not valued box” — those deemed unworthy of those essential things.
The valued box looked a lot like what the world considers worthy, interestingly enough: predominantly male, largely white, straight, highly educated, appropriately quiet, self-sacrificing, free of mental health concerns, and financially well-off. Conversely, the not-valued box was filled with people who are brown, female, uneducated, queer, loud and unapologetically so, people who maintained healthy boundaries and were penalized for it, people battling mental health challenges, and the many who navigate the daily difficulties of financial poverty.
These boxes confounded me, because God’s love doesn’t sort people that way. There is just one large box holding the fullness of existence — and written on the outside flap are the words: contents are thoroughly, deeply, and infinitely loved.
So this morning, as I thought about what to say, I faced a peculiar challenge: do I hold on to the popular, comfortable, traditional theology I’ve preached much of my life and grow a following eager for a comfortable message — or do I risk it? Do I risk following love, even at the cost of friends, family, money, and perhaps more?
The answer, for me, is found in this scripture. The disciples were making a living as fishermen. That makes sense — you have to work because you have to eat. But I imagine life felt a lot like going through the motions: day after day of fishing all night with nothing to show for it.
Many of us can relate. We go through the motions of work, relationships, even leisure — but our hearts are empty, longing for something of substance, something to fill us and bring us joy.
And in response to that emptiness, we start following harmful things: substances, unhealthy relationships, all sorts of people and pursuits that seem to fill the void. They may even do so in the short term. But ultimately, they harm us and others — and they leave us emptier than before.
Before we get self-righteous, though — this impulse isn’t born from a bad place. We were made with it. Our souls crave joy. We follow these things, and persist in following them despite the damage they cause, because they quiet something inside us. Life feels less empty, less lonely, less painful with them.
The disciples were on that same ride — and then Jesus appeared. When Jesus appeared, the fishermen who were invested in the fruitless cycle of making a living now had the opportunity to make a life worth living.
How do we make a life worth living? We follow love. And Jesus was love incarnate. When I say follow love, I don’t mean chasing a fleeting feeling or an empty thrill or a flimsy connection. I mean dedicating our lives to a deep, abiding care for ourselves, our neighbors, and the world around us.
This commitment — this discipleship — is not for the timid. It runs directly counter to a world that values control, violence, and greed, and that demands a soul-killing conformity, asking us to make its values our god rather than the living God who is intimately invested in our care.
And we often do.
But love is different from the self-securing logic of the world. It frees. It heals. It holds. It walks with. It stands beside. It maintains healthy boundaries and refuses — absolutely refuses — to settle for less than its worth. Love is beautiful and brave. And it reaches into the box marked “not valued” and chooses to be there, come what may.
So this morning, I chose to leave behind the fruitless theology of people-pleasing and follow love — follow Jesus. This ministry will be dedicated to that work: following love, following Jesus, standing with those the world deems valued and those it deems unworthy alike — until they know, until the whole world knows, that there is just one large box holding the fullness of existence, and written on the outside flap are the words:
Contents are thoroughly, deeply, and infinitely loved.
Amen.
