JUSTIN CAMP

5 min read ⭑

The road one takes to follow Jesus is neither straight nor even. It usually starts out that way. Sooner or later, though, we encounter steep climbs through mountain passes — and up tall peaks, too. There are river crossings and descents into dark valleys. There are bends and forks, obstacles and distractions, all requiring trust and fortitude and tough choices.

We set out on this road when we begin to trust Jesus with a bit of our lives — perhaps by offering the people in those lives more love or compassion. Or by doing some of what he does — studying the holy Scriptures, talking to our Father in Heaven or meeting regularly with like-minded travelers, for instance. Or by accepting his counsel — maybe changing our minds about serving others rather than ourselves or perhaps curtailing some no-so-great, not-so-ethical behaviors.

And these initial steps are very good for us and the people around us. With the Spirit of Jesus burning afresh in our hearts, we bring some supernatural love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control into our lives, families, communities and companies. And we begin developing a genuine relationship with our King. We see and experience his goodness and beauty and begin to love him for it — and trust him even more. And we start to identify with him. We come to think of ourselves as among his followers.

But then, the slope of his road ticks upward — or down. At some point, the route becomes more difficult, more demanding. You see, to continue on Jesus’ road, we must go where he goes, not just where we want him to go. And he loves us too much not to help us face our disordered attachments, our coping mechanisms and addictions. So, to stay at his side, to match his stride, we must begin to face our deep hurts. We must allow him to heal us and teach us how to set down the heaviest things we carry. We must be willing to hand over everything that makes us say No, not that. Anything but that.

And honestly, at this point in our journeys, most of us don’t. We become afraid, so we sit down, make camp and try just to enjoy all we’ve gained on the road so far.

But the thing is, so much more goodness and beauty lie ahead. Goodness and beauty beyond all comprehension. And we can very well miss all of it.

My walk with Jesus began when I was young. Sunday mornings in my leafy hometown in Silicon Valley usually meant my family was at church. My mother, a Midwesterner by birth, was tall and thin with ash-blond hair. A former teacher, she had a sharp mind and a soft heart. But most of all, she loved Jesus. It was she who encouraged our church attendance and gently enforced it.

But it wasn’t until college, graduate school and early adulthood that I began walking with Jesus on my own. And it was great. Over those decades, I got to know him more closely. And I could trust him more and more — even with my marriage, my children, my work and our family’s finances. Around all of those things, Jesus became my most trusted adviser.

But around some other things, I had a harder time. I still do. Though Jesus often asks whether we can talk about the deep places of my heart, I resist. I ignore him. I pretend I can’t hear him or that he isn’t speaking. I attempt to distract both of us by focusing my thoughts and prayers on the good he’s done and how I’ve trusted him already.

By my actions, I tell him, We’ve come a long way, you and me. Hasn’t our journey been incredible? And isn’t this a perfect place to stop and make a fire? Can’t we stay here … forever?

And his response is always the same. He smiles and embraces me, figuratively, and whispers, “But there’s so much more I want to show you.”

I was 12 years old when doctors told my mom she had chronic myelogenous leukemia. The disease wouldn’t take her for nine years, but to my young mind, that initial diagnosis was a pronouncement of death. And I loved her. And I didn’t want her to go.

So, to assuage my fear and grief, I turned to food. My young heart associated cooking with mothering, and my young mind decided that food would bring the comfort I needed and that the heaviness of a full stomach would bring some sort of well-being.

So, ever since those days, whenever I’m tired or anxious — which, as a husband, provider and father of three, is a lot of the time — I’ve attempted to stave off any tension or discomfort by eating. Instead of listening to the advice of my King and accepting his healing, I’ve tried to find relief and rescue on my own.

It hasn’t worked. And now, four decades on, I’m weary. I’m tired of battling my weight. I want to heal those wounds of the long past. I want to be free of those old agreements about what food means to me and what it can deliver.

I want more from life. A lot more. And I know where to find it.

In this area of my life that I’ve so wanted to control, I want to let go. I want to throw caution to the wind. I want to get back up on my feet, get back on the road, and catch up with my dear friend.

Is there something you’d like to stop doing but haven’t been able to? Is there something you’d like to start but struggle to do it? Is there somewhere you are stuck?

Close your eyes. Take a moment to pray and ponder.

Today, right now, Jesus is asking you to come a little further, to trust him a bit — to make that call, to send that email, to sign up for that session and to go to that group meeting today.

Will you join me?

Justin Camp is the editor-in-chief of Rapt Interviews. He also created the WiRE for Men devotional and wrote the WiRE Series for Men. His writing has also been featured and seen on Charisma, Moody Radio, Focus on the Family, GOD TV, The Christian Post, Crosswalk, Belief.net, LifeWay Men and other media outlets.

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