A few years back, a pastor was speaking on the nature and necessity of discipleship. To emphasize his point, he shared a personal childhood story about a board game he used to play and how it altered his perception of the expectations of true discipleship.

When I was a kid in the mid-50s, Parker Brothers came out with a game for church families like ours. It was called “Going to Jerusalem.” Your playing piece wasn’t a top hat or Scottie dog, like in the “worldly” game of Monopoly. In “Going to Jerusalem,” you got to be a real disciple. You were represented by a little plastic man with a robe, a beard, some sandals, and a staff. In order to move across the board, you looked up answers to questions in the little black New Testament provided with the game. I remember that you always started in Bethlehem, and you made stops at the Mount of Olives, Bethsaida, Capernaum, the stormy sea, Nazareth, and Bethany. If you rolled the dice well, you went all the way to a triumphal entry into Jerusalem. But you never got to the Crucifixion or Resurrection. There were no demons or angry Pharisees. You only made your way through the nice stories. It was a safe adventure, perfectly suited for a Christian family on a Sunday afternoon walk with Jesus. It never occurred to me, while leaning over the card table jiggling the dice in my hand, that traveling with Jesus wasn’t meant for plastic disciples who looked up verses in a little black Bible. If you’re going to walk with Jesus as his disciple in this world, you may need to change your expectations.

His story is instructive. Discipleship is no safe adventure. In fact, the discipleship road can be quite perilous. Even though we encounter great and numerous blessings throughout the journey, it often also includes roadblocks, detours, bumps, and bruises. That pastor’s story is also illustrative of a deep-seated issue and inconvenient truth that should be named and not be ignored: There is a form of discipleship out there that is plastic, fragile, and soft. It is soft discipleship that demands nothing and costs nothing. And if that is the case, then it is also worth nothing.

Denying Self

The order of the day seems to be a popular discipleship that cheerfully denies the concept that following Jesus comes with any significant demands. “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). Yet the truth of God’s word belies this. The call to follow Christ is a costly one, and we need that reminder especially now because following people is all too tempting and easy. All we have to do is click, and we can virtually follow hundreds, even thousands of people. But Jesus demands that we follow him distinctively. And he is quite clear about that, “If anyone would come after me.”

Not “me and someone else,” but “me.” Jesus only. Jesus uniquely. Jesus singularly. He is saying that we must follow him in the way he prescribes. This means we don’t get to set the terms for our relationship with Christ, nor do we set the rules for engagement. He does. And the first rule set down is self-denial. He is not talking about denying ourselves of things. As a matter of fact, he is not even hinting at something. It’s far more radical, Jesus is saying, “deny yourself.” This is a denial of your attempts to be self-governing and self-sufficient. Jesus is calling us into a life of complete dependence on him. By doing so, he is also reversing one of the destructive effects of the fall.

The fall was the ultimate sinful act of self-determination. Jesus is calling us to surrender, to deny self, and to follow him because when we do, we are actually living in the way in which we were created. You and I were made for fellowship with God, and this denial is the only way it is going to happen—when the self fades into the background and we take up our cross. Notice that Jesus is not being cryptic or surreptitious; he is being explicit and upfront. If we are going to follow him, we must deny ourselves and take up our cross.

There was nothing attractive about the cross. The cross was not even a neutral reality or image. Rather, such a command to take up one’s cross would have been repulsive to a Jew. The cross didn’t have any positive associations whatsoever. It was a sign of sin and curse, death and shame. Jesus was not promoting that death on a cross should be a disciple’s goal. Instead, Jesus reinforces the point of denying oneself. Self-denial should feel like death to us. And often it does. In Jesus’ commanding self-denial, he is asking us to live a life of repentance. In asking us to take up our cross, He is asking for an all-in, all-embracing commitment. Following Jesus demands both repentance and commitment. But the decision is ours. We know this because Jesus’ invitation to a life of discipleship came in the form of a conditional statement, “If anyone would come after me.”

Jealous and Zealous

Jesus is calling us to fellowship in our followship. The call is grounded in the jealousy of God. But God’s jealousy is not like ours, which so often is a show of competitive frustration, spite, envy, and pride. His jealousy is a zeal to protect and preserve, not only his glory, but also the covenantal relationship that exists between him and his people of love and fidelity. So, when Jesus asks us to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow him, he is really asking us to love him above all else (Mark 12:30), to follow him wherever he goes (Rev. 14:4), and to give him our absolute and undivided loyalty (Ex. 20:3).

Therefore, the right response to his jealousy over us is our zeal for him. It is our deep, fervent, faithful zeal that would inspire us to gladly and willingly desire to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow him. In a phrase, the result is true discipleship. Like zeal, discipleship should be filled with a burning passion for God and his will; a desire to promote his glory in all things; a single-minded devotion; an enthusiasm for virtue and holiness. What sort of discipleship will yours be? That depends on you, as the disciple. And it must be born of an apprenticeship of increasing zeal for Christ.  

Happy are the simple followers of Jesus Christ who have been overcome by his mercy and sing with the humblest of hearts the praises of the all-sufficient grace of Christ. Happy are they who know that grace and can live in the world without being a part of it. Those who, by following Jesus Christ, are so assured of their heavenly citizenship that they are truly free to live their lives in this world. Happy are they who understand that discipleship means life which springs from grace, and that grace informs their discipleship. Happy are they who have become Christians in this sense of the word. For them, the word of grace has proved a fount of mercy. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, pp. 55-56)

The life of discipleship is devoted to self-denial and daily cross-bearing. No better life exists. Discipleship is difficult and demanding. Whatever losses we perceive to be losing on the discipleship road will always pale in comparison to what we will gain in Christ.