If we are honest with ourselves, we can name that options are one of the most valued parts of our daily existence. Ever spend 30-plus minutes trying to pick something to watch on one of several streaming services only to end up frustrated because “there’s nothing good on to watch?” You then revert to watching the same series you have been rewatching year after year. Have you ever been to the Cheesecake Factory? If there was ever a monument to overindulging in trans fats and options, the Cheesecake Factory is it. The menu is the size of the Sunday New York Times, with 250 menu items.[i] Without fail, after reading the menu cover-to-cover, you still do not know what to order, so you order what you have always ordered—bacon cheeseburger with fries and Hershey’s Chocolate bar cheesecake.
There’s a reason we do this. Having too many options paralyzes us. We want choice, but we also fear making the wrong one. And in a culture where we are constantly told that we can curate every aspect of our lives—from the music we listen to, to how we decorate our homes, to the way we brand ourselves online—it’s no surprise that we approach faith the same way. We want a customizable Christianity that gives us Jesus without disrupting our carefully managed lives. But Jesus isn’t offering a curated spiritual experience; He’s calling us to surrender.
We live in a world where options are everything. We expect options in nearly every aspect of our lives, which is why when it comes as no surprise when we say “Yes!” to following Jesus, we also want to control the degree to which and manner we follow.
We say, “I will follow Jesus, but I am holding onto a backup plan.”
“I will serve God but still cling to my portfolio.”
“I will live for the Kingdom of God, but let’s not be too crazy about it.”
We don’t say these things out loud, of course. But we live them. We make choices that reveal where our true allegiance lies. We might tithe—after we have made sure we have enough for that weekend trip. We pray for God’s guidance—so long as it aligns with the direction we were already planning to go. We say we trust Jesus—but we still check our bank accounts first before we feel at peace. We want Jesus to fit into our lives rather than letting Him reshape our lives entirely.
We have arrived late to the Sermon on the Mount and Jesus is mid-sermon. We will leave the sermon before Jesus offers the final “Amen,” but do not worry because, after Easter, we will examine Jesus’ most famous and most-misquoted sermon in the light of the resurrection.
Jesus said, “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”[ii]
Jesus is clear: “Sure, you may love your options and control, but when you follow me, you cannot split your loyalty.”
Jesus does not give us endless options like your favorite streaming service, and he does not include add-ons by which we can customize our faith. Following Jesus, faith in Christ is not an add-on to our lives. It is all or nothing.
Jesus’ words are a warning to all of us who try to justify declaring Jesus to be lord of our lives on Sunday morning, only to allow material possessions, money, gain, and success to claim our allegiance by Monday’s breakfast. We live in a world where “success” is defined by the thing that we have and the titles on our CV. This world lies in direct conflict with Jesus’ kingdom. Theologian Frederick Bruner put it like this: “We cannot work (largely) for God and then moonlight for Gain.”[iii]
Jesus isn’t telling us that money itself is the problem. He’s not saying that having a job, providing for your family, or being responsible is wrong. What He’s saying is that your heart only has room for one ultimate allegiance. And in a world that measures your worth by your productivity, wealth, and success, following Jesus will look downright foolish. It means trusting in a Kingdom that doesn’t run on profits, doesn’t measure success by promotions, doesn’t reward accumulation but instead demands surrender. It means choosing a different definition of abundance—one not built on possessions but on the presence of God.
Frederick Bruner is blunt: “The decision of faith is an either/or decision, tolerating no double dipping, no side glances at the goddess Success, no smuggled incense at alien altars.”[iv] There’s no middle ground, no hedging our bets. It’s not faith and security, faith and success, faith and control. It’s Jesus—period.
The problem is not that we want to slight Jesus or ignore the invitation to live a new life through His grace. Instead, we often think we can muscle our way into discipleship. If we just pray harder, read the bible more, or give more in the offering plate, then we will be the disciple we think Jesus wants us to be.
Some of us are spiritual perfectionists. We turn faith into a self-improvement project. We think that if we can just get the proper spiritual habits in place, we’ll become the kind of disciple that Jesus is looking for. But discipleship isn’t self-improvement—it’s self-abandonment. The point of following Jesus isn’t to perfect ourselves; it’s to lose ourselves in Him. It’s not about effort—it’s about trust. And trust is a lot harder than effort. Effort we can control. Trust requires letting go.
The minute we turn following Christ into a checklist we have missed the point. Inevitably, we fail at the self-prescribed life, and in our failure, the seductive glow of gain awaits. The thing is, in following Christ, we do not work our way into God’s good graces; we cannot earn God’s favor.
Go ahead, sell everything, and you can still miss the point if your efforts are your focus instead of the call of Christ.
The invitation to follow Jesus is not to make discipleship a DIY project. Dietrich Bonhoeffer is correct when he wrote, “The actual call of Jesus and the response of single-minded obedience have an unalterable significance.”[v] Bonhoeffer knew this firsthand. When he resisted the Nazi regime, when he chose obedience to Christ over safety, he wasn’t doing it because he had manufactured some heroic faith. He was simply responding to the call of Christ. That’s what costly grace does. It doesn’t give us the luxury of hedging our bets. It doesn’t let us serve Jesus and keep our comforts. It asks everything of us—because it has already given everything to us.
We cannot fake faith or manufacture it. It happens when we hear the call of Christ and respond.
Some may portray this response to Christ’s call as obedience that leads to faith. The thing is, obedience is not something we do; rather, it is what Jesus has already done.
Our egos convince us that if we just try harder—say the right prayers, adopt the bible reading plans, meditate more, give more—we will be in control. When we let go of this illusion of control, we discover that Jesus has already done the heavy lifting, which Bonhoeffer describes as costly grace. Obedience in the upside-down Kingdom of God does not constrain us; it liberates us from our feeble attempts at control.
Following Jesus is not an endless streaming service or a New York Times-sized menu of options, add-ons, and trans fats. This is the paradox of the Kingdom. The more we cling to our lives, the more we lose them. The more we try to control, the more anxious and exhausted we become. But when we let go, when we trust that Jesus is enough—that’s where true freedom is found. Think about the moments in your life when you’ve been most at peace. Were they the moments when you were in control? Or were they the moments when you finally let go, when you surrendered, when you stopped striving and simply trusted? That’s the freedom Jesus offers.
We do not “choose Jesus” because Jesus has already chosen us. Christ has already chosen you. And in being chosen, we are free to follow the path Christ has placed before us. The path of single-minded obedience to the God who forgives, frees, and loves; a grace-filled contrast to the gods of gain and success that demand blind obedience.
In following Jesus, we find life. Jesus does not ask for your five-year plan, your effort, or your ability to think strategically. The catch? The life you cling to? It’s not yours to keep anyway. So, stop worrying. Stop juggling and pretending that you can serve two masters. Hear the call of Christ; step into grace. Amen.
[i] “About Us.” The Cheesecake Factory, www.thecheesecakefactory.com/about-us. Accessed 20 Mar. 2025.
[ii] Matthew 6:24
[iii] Bruner, Frederick Dale. Matthew A Commentary: The Christ Book Matthew 1-12: Vol. 1. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2007. Page 325.
[iv] Ibid. Page
[v] Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. The Cost of Discipleship. Touchstone 1995. Page 83.
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