Where There’s Blayze

I’ve always loved words.

It might sound like a strange confession, but it’s true. Words are powerful. They inspire, they convict, they entertain, they confuse, and sometimes they land us in a bit of trouble. I’ve always found that words come easily to me. In fact, I process the world by speaking. I’ll often say something and disagree with myself five minutes later. Many a solo car ride has turned into a heated debate, with myself.

My dad was an English teacher and had a habit of sticking witty quotes from famous writers on the outside of his classroom door. I used to read them and think, “Yes! That’s it, perfectly said.” A few of my favourites:

“Never argue with stupid people, they’ll drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.” — Mark Twain

“Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes. After that, who cares? He’s a mile away and you’ve got his shoes.” — Billy Connolly

These quotes are sharp, funny, and brilliantly worded. But as much as I love language, I’ve learned something important over time: just because we say something doesn’t mean we fully understand what we’ve said.

Words Without Weight

This truth hit home for me in a moment of self-inflicted athletic embarrassment. I was chatting with a friend who was a seasoned runner. Feeling confident, mostly because I’d been going to the gym and had recently gotten married (wedding photos are powerful motivation), I found myself bragging about my fitness.

He had invited me to join him for a mile long run. “A mile?” I said, “come on, that’s nothing.”

“Fine,” he replied, “Let’s do five.”

Without a second thought, I agreed. But when I arrived later that day, he looked like a professional athlete. I, on the other hand, showed up in Converse trainers and blind optimism. Within minutes, I was gasping for air, experiencing pain in muscles I didn’t know I had, and seriously regretting my words.

We didn’t even make it to the end of his road before I had to admit defeat.

It was humbling. And it made me reflect on how often we speak without considering the weight of our words, especially when it comes to following Jesus.

The Bold Declaration in Luke 9

In Luke 9:57, a man boldly declares to Jesus, “I will follow you wherever you go.” It sounds noble, like something we’d put on a T-shirt or bumper sticker. But Jesus doesn’t respond with applause or encouragement. Instead, He says something surprising:

“Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” (Luke 9:58)

In other words: “Are you sure? Because this isn’t going to be comfortable.”

Jesus doesn’t sugar-coat discipleship. He never has. In fact, throughout the gospels, Jesus often seems to warn people against following Him too quickly or too lightly (Luke 14:25–33). Why? Because He wants them to count the cost.

Counting the Cost

In modern Christianity, we often focus on the positives, and rightly so. There is joy in following Jesus. There is peace, there is purpose, there is hope. But if we only preach the prosperity and skip the struggle, we set people up for spiritual confusion.

I’ve seen this play out firsthand. At Christian festivals and events, I’ve seen Jeremiah 29:11 quoted often: “For I know the plans I have for you… plans to prosper you and not to harm you.” It’s a beautiful verse, but it sits within a letter written to people in exile, people who would have to wait seventy years to see that promise fulfilled (Jeremiah 29:10).

What happens when a believer clings to that verse as a guarantee of immediate blessing, and then life gets hard? When suffering arrives, or prayers seem unanswered, or the valley seems longer than expected?

Suddenly, faith feels like failure.

The Reality of Following

Jesus never hid the cost. He told His followers plainly:

“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23)

Following Jesus means walking into uncertainty, discomfort, and sometimes pain. It means forgiving when it feels impossible. It means letting go of our plans and surrendering to His. It means trusting when we don’t have all the answers.

But it also means we are never alone.

A Glimpse of Elisha

One of my favourite biblical characters is Elisha. In 2 Kings 2, we see Elisha following Elijah, a prophet full of power and boldness. Elisha walks with him, learns from him, and witnesses miraculous signs. But then comes the moment when Elijah is taken up into heaven.

Most of us might freeze in grief or confusion. But what does Elisha do? He asks for more:

“Let me inherit a double portion of your spirit.” (2 Kings 2:9)

Elijah is taken. Elisha is left holding the cloak, and the call. He strikes the water with the cloak and walks forward, knowing full well that the road ahead won’t be easy.

He walks forward anyway.

So What About Us?

Jesus still asks today, “Will you follow me?” And like the man in Luke 9, we might say, “Yes! Wherever you go.” But maybe we need to slow down and consider what that really means.

To follow Jesus is not to avoid the wilderness, it is to walk through it with Him. It’s to know that even when we feel lost or weary or broken, we are not abandoned. He promises:

“Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)

If you’re struggling right now, if the road feels uphill and the sky seems silent, don’t give up. Jesus hasn’t let go of you. And He never will.

Keep going.

Ask for more of His Spirit.

Step forward in faith, even if your legs are tired.

The road is hard. But He is worth it.

Reflection Questions:

1. Have you ever found yourself saying, “I follow Jesus,” without fully considering what that means?
2. Are there areas in your life where the cost of discipleship feels especially high?
3. What does it look like for you today to take the next step in following Jesus—wherever He leads?