The Lightness of the Cross

I got married when I was 22 years old.

Which still seems shockingly young to a lot of people, including me.

Some time during the months before my wedding, a buddy of mine was razzing me about what a mistake I was making, not in marrying Rachel, but just marrying at all. About how much life I still had to live and how much I was going to miss out on and all the sacrifices I’d have to make and responsibilities I’d have to take on.

And I didn’t get upset with him because a) he was doing it in a spirit of fun and b) he was quoting me back to me.

See, four years previously, when no one should be thinking about marriage, my senior class was handing out most/least likely to… and I was voted Least Likely To Get Married. Not, I don’t think, because people were saying “no one will ever marry that jerk,” but because I was always talking about my big plans and how the one thing they didn’t include was marriage. Marriage was for other people…suckers.

So, it’s four years later and my buddy from high school is giving me a hard time and he says, “I thought you didn’t believe in marriage.” And I didn’t. But Rachel made a believer out of me.

And, the thing is, my friend wasn’t wrong about some of the things I wouldn’t get to do or the sacrifices I’d have to make or the responsibilities I’d have to take on. But when I think about the last 10 years and imagine missing them. That’s my nightmare.

Christians do a lot of talking about leaving everything behind to follow Jesus. And for a lot of people outside the church I think this seems fairly absurd. Christianity is for suckers, but not for them. And you hear a lot about “us” and “them” when it comes to who’s right about following Jesus.

But what you don’t hear as much about “us” is how often our lives agree with “them.” We want to believe in Jesus, but we don’t want to leave all to follow Him. We look at what Christ demands and we think of all the things we’d miss, all the sacrifices we’d have to make, all the responsibilities we’d have to take on. And so we believe in Jesus and we talk about Jesus, but we don’t really follow Jesus. Because we’re pretty sure that really following Jesus would be awful.

Which is sort of like if after I married Rachel I kept dating other women. If I kept hanging out with the guys every night or just sat in front of the TV. If I liked the idea of her being around, but not so much the sacrifices or the responsibility. If I tried to be married without really being married. I’ve known guys like that. And you know what’s weird? They’re miserable in their marriages.

Sort of like when I try to be a “Christian” without really being a Christian, without really being a follower of Christ. Avoiding all the sacrifices and responsibilities that I think are going to make me miserable only makes me into what Karl Barth called a “practical atheist.” And that makes me really miserable.

Following Christ means we have to let go of some things. Maybe our plans or our hopes or our desires. The control we try to have over our own lives. Our independence. Our grudges. Our sin.

But when we start to let go, we find that our lives are better. When we stop clinging to other things and start clinging to Christ, we find that all the added responsibilities and sacrifices are worth it.

I wish I could say I’ve always done that. But for a lot of my life as a Christian, I was more of a “practical atheist,” not much about my life actually showed that I believed Jesus was Lord or that I trusted in God’s will. But there were moments when I would take a real risk, take on real responsibility, make a real sacrifice, and those are the moments I never regret. My regrets are the moments when I was too afraid, too lazy, too stubborn.

Moving back to Austin to start Immanuel was one of those real risk moments for me. I had a comfortable life and a nice house and plenty of income. I had friends who suggested that Rachel and I were making a big mistake. They talked about the life we’d miss out on and the things we wouldn’t get to do and the sacrifices we’d have to make and the responsibilities we’d have to take on. And they weren’t wrong about any of that, But when I think about the last 4 years and imagine missing them. That’s my nightmare. Because I have grown closer to Christ and learned more about Him and become more like Him in the last 4 years than I had in the previous 10. 15. 20.

Imagine if Peter and Andrew and James and John had kept fishing. Imagine what they would have missed; the miracles they witnessed, the healing they did, the way their lives were forever changed by following Jesus. They got the chance to become fishers of men, casting nets not to catch fish, but to rescue humankind. But they didn’t know that before they started. No more than I knew how amazing the last 10 years would be or how rewarding the last 4 years would be. You have to take a step of faith and find out. You have to let go of your nets in order to take up your cross.

Now that doesn’t seem like much of a trade. Except that in taking up a cross you also follow Jesus.

And the Jesus who says, “take up your cross and follow me,” is the same one who says, “my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” And, for a long time, that didn’t make sense to me. But lately I’m beginning to see that the person I try to be apart from Jesus makes me more miserable than the one I’m called to be in Jesus. Following my own path and going my own way makes me miserable. Following Jesus might make me tired, but it never makes me miserable. His yoke is easy, His burden is light, His Way is better. Even if it leads to a cross.