Jesus Isn’t Looking for Likes

He Asked for Followers.

A while back, I came downstairs in the morning wearing a Captain America T-shirt.

My son Joshua, who was four at the time, saw me and said, “You’re wearing a Captain America shirt today?!”

Then he took off upstairs. A few minutes later, he came back down wearing his Captain America shirt too. Then he said, “I’m just like you, Dad!”

Disciple number one.

Then my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter Hannah saw what was happening and said, “Daddy, I want to wear Captain America too!” So we ran upstairs, got her Captain America shirt, and she came back down saying, “I’m just like Daddy!”

Disciple number two.

By the end of it, I think all three of my kids we had at the time and Erin were all wearing Captain America shirts “just like Daddy.” Which is, of course, the goal of fatherhood. But that little moment is also a picture of something deeper.

We imitate what we follow.

Whether we realize it or not, all of us are already following someone. Some ideology, personality, or lifestyle. Or maybe a parent, friend, or feed.

You’re already a disciple. That’s why Jesus’ invitation is so simple and so disruptive. In Mark 1, Jesus sees Simon and Andrew casting a net into the sea, and He says:

“Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men.” (Mark 1:17)

In Mark 2, He sees Levi sitting at the tax booth, and He says:

“Follow me.” (Mark 2:14)

In Mark 8, He calls the crowd with His disciples and says:

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” (Mark 8:34)

In Mark 10, He looks at a rich young man and says:

“You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor…and come, follow me.” (Mark 10:21)

Jesus was constantly saying this to people. Not “like me.” Not “admire me.” Not “keep me around in case of emergency.”

Now, to be clear, Jesus does call us to believe in Him.
He calls us to love Him.
He calls us to trust Him.

But in the Gospels, He keeps pressing all of that into these two words: Follow me.

And I think that may be a problem for us, because we’re more conditioned to be fans or friends than followers. More into likes than lordship. And they’re not the same.

A fan of Jesus likes what Jesus does.

A fan of Jesus says, “Yeah, I like Jesus. He was a good guy. He helped people. He cared for the poor, loved outsiders, stood up to hypocrites. I’m a fan.”

Some fans are casual. They don’t know much, but they like the idea of Jesus. Others are more serious. They know the stats. They can quote some verses. They know the main stories. They may even have strong opinions about Jesus.

But they’re still fans, watching from a distance.

A fan can like what Jesus does without surrendering to who Jesus is. Which is safer, isn’t it? Because admiration doesn’t cost much. You can admire Jesus and still run your own life. You can appreciate His teachings without obeying His commands. You can respect His compassion without rearranging your priorities around His mission.

A fan likes what Jesus does. But a friend of Jesus goes a step further.

A friend of Jesus says, “Jesus has done so much for me. He’s helped me through hard times. He’s given me peace and blessed my family. I talk to Him. I appreciate Him. I even go to His birthday party every December 25. He’s very generous. Everybody gets gifts.”

You see, a friend of Jesus doesn’t just like Jesus. A friend likes what Jesus does for them.

And even that falls short of Jesus’ call. Because sometimes we treat Jesus like a friend we call when life gets hard, but not like the Lord who gets authority over everything.

We want Him close enough to comfort us, but not close enough to confront us.
Close enough to help, but not close enough to lead.
Close enough to forgive, but not close enough to change the way we spend money, treat people, use our bodies, order our calendars, handle conflict, or define success.

But He said, “Follow me.” A fan likes what Jesus does. A friend likes what Jesus does for them.

A follower of Jesus does what Jesus does.

That’s the difference.

A follower talks the way Jesus talks. Loves what Jesus loves. Cares about what Jesus cares about. Gives the way Jesus gives. Forgives the way Jesus forgives. Runs after what Jesus runs after. Gets bothered by what bothers Jesus. Gives life to what Jesus gave His life to.

That’s why following Jesus cannot stay vague or theoretical. Eventually, it has to touch real life. Your money. Your mouth. Your marriage. Your parenting. Your private sin. Your grudges. Your schedule. Your entertainment. Your politics. Your generosity. Your comfort. Your mission.

Fans admire Jesus until He contradicts them. Friends appreciate Jesus until He asks too much. Followers obey Jesus because He is Lord.

That’s not easy. Jesus never said it would be. In fact, He seemed pretty committed to making sure people counted the cost. Nobody takes up a cross as a hobby. Nobody denies himself because Jesus is a casual interest. Nobody follows Jesus to the cross while keeping Him as a nice inspirational figure on the edge of life.

Jesus isn’t looking for likes. He’s looking for followers.

But here’s the problem: Jesus is not the only one saying, “Follow me.” Your whole life is full of competing calls. Your career says it. So do your comfort, politics, kids’ schedules, appetite, anger, insecurity, money, and, of course, your phone.

And here’s an even scarier thought: you’re not only a follower. You are also being followed.

Just like the Apostle Paul said, “Follow me as I follow Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1), you’re saying the same with your life. It’s saying something like, “Follow me as I follow comfort.” Or busyness. Or money. Or my kids. Or culture. Or my feelings. Or me.

Your kids are watching. Your friends are watching. Your coworkers are watching. The people closest to you are learning from the life you actually live, not the values you claim on paper.

They’re noticing the shirt you wear, and oftentimes running upstairs to put a matching one on.

When you leave this world, you will leave followers behind. The question is not whether people will be shaped by your life. They will. The question is what shape they’ll take.

Will they be more anxious because you followed fear?
More bitter because you followed anger?
More materialistic because you followed comfort?
More self-absorbed because you followed yourself?

Or will they see in you a life that says, imperfectly but honestly: Follow me as I follow Christ?

That’s the invitation. Not to be impressed by Jesus from a distance. Not to keep Jesus around as a helpful friend when life gets hard. But to follow Him so closely that, over time, you start to look like Him.

Like a little kid coming down the stairs in the same shirt as his dad, smiling and saying, “I’m just like you.”

So are you a fan of Jesus? A friend? Or a follower?

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