Christian discipleship

TO be truly a Christian, we have to aim at nothing less than becoming “another Christ.” But before that fullness of Christian life can be achieved, we need to have an encounter with Christ and learn to follow him, that is, to be his disciple. 

 Encountering Christ should not be a problem, since Christ is always with us. It’s rather us who have to learn to acknowledge his presence and to start dealing with him. We should have the same interest in Christ that those who first met Christ had. 

 From the gospel of St. Matthew (8,18-22), we have this interesting episode of a scribe who approached Christ and said, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” He must have felt such a serious admiration for Christ that he had to say this intention and his willingness to follow Christ wherever he would go. 

 To which, Christ responded by telling him what to expect by following Christ. “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” In other words, to be Christ’s disciple is no joke. It will entail extreme difficulties and inconveniences. 

 We can get an idea of the kind of difficulties we can expect as a disciple of Christ when someone told him, “Lord, let me go first and bury my father.” But Christ answered him saying, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead.” This can only mean that we have to be willing to leave everything behind, even those who are dear to us, just to follow Christ. 

 To be a disciple of Christ, we have to be ready for wherever divine providence would take us. We have to be open to it all the time. Even as we make our plans and pursue them truly as our own, we should not forget that nothing in our life is actually outside the providence of God who can adapt himself to us, even in our worst situations and predicaments, and still lead us to himself. 

 The only thing to remember is that God is always around and is actually intervening and directing our life to him. That is part of his omnipotence which he exercises both from all eternity and in time since our creation and all the way to the end of time. 

 There will be things in our life that will be beyond our human notice, and much less, our human control. We have to trust God’s providence even if things look terrible, impossible, or inhuman when judged simply by human standards. 

 Let us remember the story of Abraham who was asked to offer his only son, Isaac, as sacrifice to God. That trust Abraham had in God’s will won him the privilege of being the father of all nations. God always has a purpose for everything that happens in our life, or can derive good from whatever evil we commit. 

 There are actually many mysteries in our life that can surpass our capacity to comprehend and, much less, to cope with, including extreme evil. But let’s always remember that where sin or evil has abounded, the grace of God has abounded even more. 

 Our Catechism teaches us why God allows evil to happen and how such evil can occasion a lot of good. “He permits evil to take place because he respects the freedom of his creatures and, mysteriously, knows how to derive good from it.” (CCC 311) 

 We should not be afraid to be Christ’s disciples!

Following Christ without reading the fine print

SOME people treat discipleship the way they shop for a new phone plan. They want unlimited blessings, free miracles, guaranteed happiness, and absolutely no hidden charges. Then Jesus comes along in Luke 9:57–62 and politely ruins the marketing campaign. 

 A man eagerly declares, "I will follow you wherever you go." It sounds heroic—until Jesus reminds him that "Foxes have dens and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head." Translation: following Christ is not a luxury vacation with complimentary breakfast. It is not a membership program with premium perks. The Christian life is not measured by comfort but by communion with God. 

 Modern culture has convinced us that success means accumulating more security, more convenience, and more control. We insure everything except our souls. We upgrade our gadgets faster than our virtues. 

 We panic over a weak Wi-Fi signal while remaining strangely calm about a weak prayer life. Yet Christ gently exposes the illusion that earthly security can ever satisfy the restless heart. Our true home is not built with bricks or guarded by passwords. It is found in God alone. 

 Another man receives a direct invitation: "Follow me." His response seems perfectly reasonable. "Lord, let me first go and bury my father." Jesus' answer shocks us: "Let the dead bury their own dead." 

 At first glance, it appears harsh. Yet the Lord is not teaching us to neglect our responsibilities or despise family. He is revealing a deeper truth. Nothing—not even the most respectable excuse—can take precedence over God's call. 

 We have become experts at decorating our delays with respectable language. "I'll become serious about my faith after my career is stable." "After retirement." "After the children grow up." "After life becomes less busy." Somehow tomorrow has become the patron saint of unfinished conversions. We postpone holiness as though death had agreed to consult our calendars before arriving. 

 Then comes the third volunteer. He is willing to follow Jesus but asks first to say goodbye to his family. Again, Jesus replies with an unforgettable image: "No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God." 

 How familiar that sounds. We want to move forward while staring into the rearview mirror. We cling to old grudges, old sins, old ambitions, and old versions of ourselves. We ask God to write a new chapter while insisting that He preserve every paragraph we refuse to surrender. The result is spiritual zigzagging. Anyone trying to plow a straight field while constantly looking backward will produce crooked furrows. The soul works no differently. 

 The humor is almost painful because it is so recognizable. We negotiate with God as though salvation were a business contract. We offer installments of obedience instead of wholehearted love. We promise lifelong fidelity, provided the terms remain flexible and the sacrifices remain hypothetical. 

 Yet Christ refuses to lower the standard because He knows what we are made for. He does not invite us into misery but into freedom. Every attachment that keeps us from Him eventually becomes a burden. Every excuse that delays conversion slowly hardens into habit. Every divided loyalty weakens the heart's ability to love. 

 Following Christ has never been about losing life but finally finding it. The road may be demanding, but it leads where no earthly comfort, achievement, or applause can ever bring us. The One who asks for everything also gives everything. The only real tragedy is not that the cost of discipleship is high. It is that we often spend our lives bargaining over what was never truly ours to keep.

Authenticity is not enough

MANY admire sincerity, bluntness, and “being real,” but the Gospel reminds us that authenticity alone is never enough. A person may pride himself on having no hidden agenda, yet still fail to recognize God standing before him. The tragedy of our age is not only hypocrisy but also the assumption that honesty automatically equals truth. 

 In John 1:47–51, Jesus praises Nathanael as “an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit.” Yet this compliment is only the beginning. Nathanael must still move beyond his limited judgments. Moments earlier he had dismissed Nazareth with prejudice: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” His integrity did not prevent error, nor did his sincerity free him from assumptions. 

This should challenge modern Christians who equate personal opinion with divine wisdom. Many proudly say, “I just speak my mind,” as though frankness were the highest virtue. But the Gospel exposes this illusion. A mind untouched by grace remains captive to appearances. Even an honest heart needs conversion. 

 Christ does not flatter Nathanael into complacency. Instead, He reveals that He had already seen him beneath the fig tree. This is more than a display of supernatural knowledge. It proclaims that no human life escapes the gaze of God. Every thought, hidden desire, silent struggle, and private compromise is already known before a single word is spoken. 

 That truth dismantles the comfortable religion of selective discipleship. Many welcome a Jesus who comforts but resist a Jesus who sees everything. They gladly receive mercy while avoiding repentance. They desire blessings without surrender. Yet the Lord who knows us completely refuses to leave us unchanged. Divine love never excuses spiritual mediocrity; it calls us to holiness. 

 Nathanael immediately responds with faith: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” His confession is sincere, but Christ directs him toward something greater. The Lord refuses to let His disciples remain captivated by extraordinary signs. Miracles are not the destination. They are invitations to deeper faith. 

 This lesson is urgently needed today. Many believers pursue visions, emotional experiences, private revelations, and sensational claims while neglecting daily conversion. They long for dramatic interventions but remain impatient, unforgiving, dishonest, or proud. They seek heavenly wonders while overlooking the ordinary acts of faithfulness through which holiness is formed. 

 Christ then makes an astonishing promise: “You will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” Heaven is no longer distant. The barrier created by sin has been broken. In Christ, heaven and earth meet. He alone is the living bridge that no philosophy, ideology, political program, scientific achievement, or human effort can replace. 

 This claim challenges every culture that believes humanity can save itself. Technology promises mastery, wealth promises security, politics promises paradise, and psychology promises fulfillment. Yet none can overcome sin, death, guilt, or the deepest longing of the human heart. Every substitute eventually collapses under the weight of reality. 

 The Gospel therefore confronts every form of self-sufficiency. Salvation is not built from below but received from above. The ladder to heaven is not constructed by human ambition but established by God in His incarnate Son. 

 The challenge is deeply personal. It is not enough to be honest, religious, intelligent, or morally respectable. We must allow Christ to expose every disguise, purify every prejudice, correct every false certainty, and draw every part of our lives toward Himself. Only then does sincerity become holiness, knowledge become wisdom, and earthly vision open to the realities of heaven. 

 The Gospel does not merely congratulate authenticity; it calls us to transformation.