Posts Tagged: John 8:12

“Following: An Initial Spasm and a Long Lethargy?”

On December 12, 2022 by Dteb With 0 Comments - down to earth believer

“Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12, English Standard Version)

Someone has said something to the effect that, for too many of us, faith is an initial spasm followed by a long lethargy.

The verse that leads off this post is the YouVersion verse of the day for December 3, 2022. It is a beautiful verse on its own, but it became even more lustrous when I looked at it in the original Greek. The verb for “following” is in the present tense. As noted many times in my posts, the Greek present tense usually suggests ongoing, repetitive action.

So, following Jesus is a fulltime job. Spasms won’t cut it!

Here is my problem: “Sporadic” is my middle name. Perhaps “spasmatic” might be an even better descriptor. Now I don’t want to be too hard on myself. I’ve prepared for and run a couple of marathons. I have an advance degree in Bible/theology. These things take consistent time and preparation. I am capable of being consistent. Also, like every other virtue, consistency can easily morph into rigidity. Rigidity is not a virtue.

However, when I hear Jesus’ call to continually follow him, I must confess three things. First, I feel honored and exhilarated. Second, I feel dismayed at the prospect of the dailiness of this following. Third, I feel hopeless about pulling this off at all. So, I move from honored and exhilarated to dismayed and hopeless in a hurry.

The thing that sustains me—when I allow it to do so—is the fact that Jesus notices when I fall behind or fall away. Sometimes he waits for me to catch up. More often, Jesus comes to me where I am, and walks beside me. It is important for me to realize that the Jesus I strive to consistently follow is the same One who walks with me.

When I was a little guy growing up on the farm, my mom would walk up the path to the barn. I tried to keep up, but often I had to cry out in a plaintive, little-boy voice, “Momma, wait for me!” I don’t recall her ever chiding me for not keeping up. She would come back to me, shorten her stride, and walk beside me. Maybe Jesus is at least as understanding as my mom.

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