I marvel at how Twitter makes it so easy to follow someone.
For the uninitiated, here's how this works: When you log in to the social media giant's feed, you have the option to follow a seemingly infinite number of people, institutions, and movements. When you set up your Twitter account, you get the exhilarating feeling that you're shopping. That's because you are.
When you follow someone on Twitter—like 'friending' someone on the other social media behemoth, Facebook—you're choosing to see the content they create and publish. The posts, or tweets of those you follow, will magically pop-up in your feed and populate your digital headspace.
I suppose that what piques my interest in this process is the term, ‘following.’ It's a word rich with meaning in our faith tradition. As we find in the New Testament, Jesus (like Twitter) isn't subtle about inviting people to follow him.
To several notable fishermen, he invites them to: "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." (Matthew 4:19)
To someone who is sincere but unsure, he states: "Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead." (Matthew 8:22)
And then there's the ultimate qualifier to those who wish to follow Jesus. "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me." (Luke 9:23)
On Twitter, I choose to follow the Atlanta Braves, Ski Southeast, The North Carolina Department of Health and Human Services, Western Carolina University Athletics, The Iona Community in Scotland, the National Weather Service, The Smokies Road Info, NC State Athletics, Ober Gatlinburg (I love their Alpine Slide, okay?), the YMCA of the Rockies, and the NCDOT to name a few.
I know. I'm both boring and utterly predictable. But whether I like it or not, doesn't what I follow tell you something about who I am and what I value?
What we follow is a reflection of our appetites and our interests. I want to know the scores of my favorite teams. I want to know the latest forecast for our area. I want to hear prayers from a faith community in Scotland that I admire. I want to know when I can cross the Smokies and slide down an alpine slide. Although it doesn't need to be said, the list of things I follow reveals whose insight and perspective I trust.
The people, movements, and institutions that we follow shape our decisions and influence our thinking. We're eager to hear from those we follow, and we tend to take as
gospel what they say more than other sources. We shower those we follow with our time (in which we give space in our day to hear their voice). We provide them our attention (we block out other sources and make ourselves available to their messages). We lend muscle to the causes they champion (we call these retweets, of course).
To whom are you following? Is it Jesus? Or have you clicked the button that states, 'Mute,' 'Unfollow,' or, 'See less of this?' We choose these functions when we see too much of a source that we follow, or find their content irrelevant, or not interesting or entertaining enough to keep our attention.
In the enormous marketplace of those trying to capture our attention, the following warning should accompany our selection process:
BEWARE
You will think like the ones you follow. You will do what they do. You will incorporate their words and phrases into your vocabulary. Your life will bear the same fruit as theirs. In the end, you will become like those you follow.
And that's precisely why Jesus begs us to follow him.