A word about following

 Before I recorded this segment of Classic State of Mind, I tried an experiment. I opened my phone for 60 seconds and numbered the invitations I received on Facebook just by surfing around for one minute. The invitations were on almost every click. Follow me like this. Subscribe to our link. Share with a friend. Some guy making shrimp gumbo wants me to follow him as he demonstrates Cajun cooking. A lady selling face salve said it will erase wrinkles. One of my favorite invitations was from some Amish people on Facebook. At least they said they’re Amish. The guy was wearing overalls and a straw hat, but I didn’t think Amish people were into electronics. Well, anyway, the Amish guy wants me to follow him for home remedies they’ve known about for years. If you want to know more of these cures to life’s diseases, follow us. Follow me by clicking below. Following used to mean something. When Jesus walked the shores of Galilee and said those two words to a couple of fishermen, follow me. Those words cost them everything. Nets left in the water and a long walk of sacrifice and obedience. That kind of following wasn’t a tap on a screen. It was a life totally surrendered. The internet’s version of following is almost weightless by design, isn’t it? It costs nothing. It changes nothing. You don’t have to agree with someone to follow them. You don’t have to become Amish to follow some Amish guy and his remedies. I can follow a fitness trainer on Facebook and never do the gut-busting exercises that he says will change the way I look. We live in a following economy. Platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube are architecturally designed around that follower count. Followings have become the scoreboard, you might say. They drive visibility and income and influence and status. The more followers you accumulate, the more the algorithm rewards you. You can follow 4,000 different entities and not be truly changed by any of them. Digital following has been emptied of the original meaning of that word. It’s not connection, it’s the feeling or the illusion of connection, which is a totally different animal. Jesus didn’t offer a feeling, he offered a total transformation, more than an invitation. It was a declaration. When he said follow me, he wasn’t saying pick me. He was really saying, I picked you. I love Eugene Peterson’s treatment of John 15, 16, where Jesus says to his disciples, You didn’t choose me. Remember, I chose you and put you in the world to bear fruit. He was saying, Now you fish for fish. Follow me, and I’ll transform and equip you to be fishers of men. That kind of following produces a transformed life. It produces character and courage and the capacity to love people who are difficult to love. Remember the church in Corinth? They were notorious about following people. Some followed Apollos, some followed Peter, some clicked the I follow Paul button. But Paul was having none of that. He called that kind of following childish. He seemed to be saying, Don’t follow me because I’m your favorite guy. Follow me as I follow Christ. The world is loud with invitations, isn’t it? Everyone has a follow button. Nobody is shy about asking you to press it either. But the most important declaration any servant of Jesus can make, not about how many followers we have, it’s about who we are actually following. Somewhere in the midst of a thousand notifications, all saying follow me, the voice of the Jesus who transforms life is still inviting, follow me. And he’s not asking for a simple tap on the screen of my life. I’m Ken Jones. This has been a classic state of mind.