Following Jesus on his terms
In both the public and private sectors, standard legal procedures require employees to formally agree to company policies before they can access benefits or begin providing services. No individual can be part of any agency if they disagree with its policies. This framework is standard practice across all organisations: participation requires adherence to established regulations, where compliance yields benefits and non-compliance brings consequences. Similarly, the same principle applies to sports: to play the game, athletes must follow the rules or risk fouls, penalties, and disqualification that could cost them the match. On a grander scale, even the cosmos follows this principle: the universe maintains its order and harmony only by adhering to the fundamental laws of nature. Yet, while this fundamental truth is understood and respected everywhere else, it is strangely treated as absent and inapplicable when it comes to faith and following Jesus. Without hesitation, we accept boundaries and conditions in every other area of life, yet the moment we talk about discipleship and following Christ, those very same standards are misaligned or dismissed as legalism and an outdated system of beliefs. Much of this resistance stems from the world we inhabit. Amid exponential technological progress and instant gratification at our fingertips, our minds are inundated with information, yet we seem to be actively unlearning the essential, costly nature of biblical discipleship. In our attempt to remain relevant, we often end up polarising: on one side, we dilute the gospel through cultural syncretism, absorbing every modern trend; on the other, we elevate cultural traditions and human expectations into binding, legalistic standards. It is high time we return to our roots, examine anew how Jesus truly calls us to follow Him, and let the Scriptures speak directly to us to realign our lives to biblical discipleship.
To understand biblical discipleship, we first need to examine our love for Christ and where it stands today. Scripture clearly teaches that God is love and that His grace is unconditional—and naturally, we say we follow Christ because we love Him. But this raises an uncomfortable question: are we truly loving Him? The answer lies in Christ’s own words: ‘If you love me, you will keep my commandments.’ [1] Jesus refuses to let affection remain abstract; He anchors true love in concrete obedience to His teachings. Juxtaposing our casual terms of faith against His explicit standard reveals an uncomfortable gap that challenges and convicts modern discipleship.
This exposes the heart of biblical discipleship: we cannot follow Christ if we do not love Him, and we cannot fully love Him if we refuse to abide in His truth. It would be absurd for a spouse to declare undying affection while openly defying the boundaries and care required for a faithful marriage—yet that is precisely how we often treat our walk with Christ. This profound truth clarifies what it truly means to count the cost of discipleship. Christ’s call was never meant to be embraced casually; it demands an intentional, willing, and conscious commitment to follow Him on His terms, not our own.
Jesus explicitly lays down these terms: ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.’ [2] That small word ‘if’ signals a conscious, deliberate choice, followed by three non-negotiable commands: deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.
The setting of this call makes it even more striking. Jesus was at the height of His public popularity—miraculously feeding thousands, walking on water, healing the sick, and receiving Peter’s bold confession that He was the Christ. Crowds flocked to Him, projecting their own expectations onto His ministry and seeking a Messiah fashioned in their image.
The growing crowds were eager to follow, yet they read their own desires between the lines, hoping Jesus would fulfill their earthly hopes. They were sincere but sincerely wrong. When Peter actively recoiled at the prospect of Jesus’s suffering, Jesus shattered those comfortable illusions. He exposed the painful gap between human expectation and divine mission, calling His followers away from their self-serving agendas and toward the altar of sacrifice.
Just like the crowds who embraced Jesus’s benefits while resisting His cross, we might have embraced a truncated gospel. We have become captivated by only half of the Great Commission: we are eager to ‘go and make disciples,’ yet we consistently overlook the demanding second half: ‘teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.’ [3]
Ultimately, this passage confronts the foundational terms of our faith today: our confession means very little if we refuse to obey what He commanded. We may readily call ourselves Christians, but like Peter, we run the risk of substituting our personal preferences for biblical reality, claiming to follow the Master while completely redefining the path.
Cutting straight through the crowd’s superficial enthusiasm, Jesus turns His gaze to our hearts and presents the same standard: ‘let him deny himself.’ At its core, self-denial is an intentional dethroning of the ego. It means relinquishing the right to direct our own lives, laying down selfish ambitions and fleshly instincts so that Jesus holds absolute preeminence. Such a call clashes violently with today’s cultural ethos—a world captivated by self-actualisation and personal validation, where God is often reduced to a spiritual accessory meant to validate our feelings. But without this death to self, true discipleship cannot begin; we cannot follow Jesus while continuing to crown ourselves as lord.
- W. Tozer, in his classic The Pursuit of God, names this condition with striking clarity—the hidden “veil” over our self-life: self-righteousness, self-pity, self-admiration, and all the traits that remain uncrucified within us. He argues that we cannot truly know the presence of God until we let the cross do its painful work within our egos. True faith is not self-fulfilment; it is dying to ‘self’ so that Christ may be all in all.
The call deepens with Jesus’s next command, ‘take up his cross’; to the first-century ear, this was not a poetic metaphor or a piece of jewellery, but a vivid image of Roman agony and public shame. To bear a cross was to step onto a path of total identification with the condemned. However, biblical discipleship does not seek suffering as a trophy; pain is never the destination of our obedience. Instead, taking up the cross signifies an unyielding loyalty to Jesus, with eyes wide open to the cost. We may or may not confront physical martyrdom in our modern context, but standing unwavering on God’s truth amid cultural opposition requires the same cruciform resolve.
- I. Packer, in Knowing God warns against a gospel that “promises too much”—one that paints a false picture of freedom from conflict and hardship. True peace, he reminds us, is found in God’s presence, not in earthly comfort. We must confront ourselves with an honest question: do we truly make room for the weight of the cross, or do we subtly construct our faith around avoiding it? When comfort and convenience take the cross’s place, we end up wanting the resurrection without ever passing through the crucifixion.
These first two conditions reveal the unmistakable cost, paving the way for the ultimate call: ‘follow me.’ For Jesus, following was never a passive association or a casual interest. It is the decisive commitment of a heart that has already consented to self-denial and the cross. It signifies sealed allegiance to His Lordship—an allegiance that leaves zero room for negotiating terms. Jesus made it clear that following Him is not an optional preference, not a contract drafted on our terms, and certainly not an invitation to remake Him into who we want Him to be. If we ask what true discipleship looks like today, the answer is simple yet searching: it is measured entirely by whether we are walking on Jesus’s terms.
Jesus resolves the tension of discipleship with an inescapable truth: ‘For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.’ [4] Where the world peddles convenience and shallow peace, Jesus summons us to surrender. Biblical discipleship was never meant to be a risk-free identity that cushions our temporal comfort while jeopardising our eternity.
Wearing the Christian name carries no real cost; being joined to the crucified Lord demands everything. In practice, this cost may mean watching your reputation erode because you will not sanction what God’s Word condemns. It may mean finding yourself isolated within your own church, ministry, or household when your steadfastness exposes the compromises around you. It may mean walking away from lucrative doors, influence, and recognition because the entry fee was silent complicity. In an era intoxicated by self-definition and shifting moral sands, refusing to bend will inevitably earn you labels like ‘intolerant’ or ‘rigid.’ Yet this is not the minor friction of a busy routine; it is the sober weight of bearing Christ’s reproach before a world that will not endure sound truth. The label remains cheap. The cross demands our all.
However, we must draw an essential line: suffering is only ‘for His sake’ when it flows from genuine faithfulness. Far too often, believers mistake the natural fallout of arrogance, hostility, or stubborn tactlessness for spiritual persecution. Jesus never called us to be repulsive; He called us to be faithful. If we are opposed, let it be because we love Him and speak His truth in love—not because our own character is unredeemed. The world tolerates the label of Christianity because it poses no threat. It is the cross—borne in truth and humility—that demands everything. To follow Jesus faithfully in a fractured world carries a real and unavoidable weight. Yet the gospel never asks us to endure this calling on our own reserves. The very Saviour who bids us come and die promises His enduring peace and ultimate victory, having already conquered sin and the grave. That victory becomes our lived experience only as we lay down our autonomy and shoulder our cross—for it is precisely in the death of the self that the life-giving power of the resurrection breaks through.
Let us then cease taming Jesus’s call into a harmless, convenient creed. The cruciform life will forever appear foolish to a culture driven by self-preservation,[5] but to those who embrace Jesus on His terms, this road of sacrifice is where boundless life and true freedom begin. Until we anchor our lives once again to these plain scriptural pillars—deny self, bear the cross, and follow Him—we will continue diagnosing the malaise of our faith while clutching the very idols we refuse to surrender.
[1] John 14:15 (ESV).
[2] Matthew 16:24–25; Mark 8:34–35; Luke 9:23–24 (ESV).
[3] Matt 28:20.
[4] Matt 16:25.
[5] 1 Corinthians 1:18.