Our relationship with Jesus often begins with enthusiasm, not because we embrace the radical call of Christ to imitate his life and are excited about what that means, but because he seems useful to us. Jesus seems like someone who can get for us what we want.
This is the case because we usually encounter Jesus when we are already focused on life as we want it to be, with our own plans, agendas, and hopes. Rather than realizing that Jesus is calling us to a way completely different from ours, we first suppose that he can help us along the path we have set for ourselves. This is the helpful Jesus.
But inevitably, if we continue walking with Jesus, his way and ours reach a divergence which we cannot ignore or gloss over. We are forced to realize that where he is leading is not where we want to go. He is not helping us on our journey but leading us on his journey. Jesus is no longer a helpful ally for what we hope to achieve, but one who calls us from our own life to his.
Though the promises Jesus makes are profound, the sense of impending loss, fear of the unknown, and the abandonment necessary to take up his way, make it clear that nothing less than a type of death is needed to follow him. This dying to self, taking up the cross, is in order to become heirs of God. If we will let go of the life we have planned for ourselves, with its meager earthly rewards, we have the opportunity to become the sons and daughters of God in the fullness of what that means.
For sure, all of us are the children of God. Paul makes that clear when speaking to the philosophers in Athens when he says, “for in Him we live and move and exist, as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we also are His children.’ ” (Acts 17:28). But we are estranged and ignorant of what it means to be children of God. The inheritance we should receive will not effectively be ours until we come into our rightful place as the sons and daughters we are.
So here we are with our life-plans that culminate not in being heirs of God, but in having a nice home, maybe a lake house, and a comfortable retirement after a career and satisfying family life. Initially, we think Jesus is willing to help us reach our goals by answering our prayers, helping, and blessing us. Our limited imagination only longs for realizing our small, temporal dreams.
The call of Jesus is to a different life entirely, with the reward of becoming who we were created to be in our union with God. His is the way of counting all as loss for the sake of gaining Christ (Philippians 3:7-8). We are confronted with the choice between a merely helpful or a radically disruptive Jesus. The tables of our lives get overthrown, so that the temples we are, may be cleansed. We become houses of prayer rather than places dedicated to commerce, focused on what does not last.
Jesus interrupts our plans with a way far more difficult because it goes against our thinking and goals, but which is actually more meaningful now and forever. If we choose to follow him, we have to start over in the way we think about our lives. No longer do we have a basic plan that we hope he will help bring to pass for us, but we let that go for the hope of receiving what only he can reveal.
Traveler's Journal 
In our last Wed class, we considered things that may have made Paul and Jesus “anxious,” even though they both preached, “don’t be anxious about anything.”
(They seemed anxious when people they were serving in their ministry were struggling, -Peter, and the churches Paul was admonishing.)
My take away from this was that maybe it’s “okay” to be anxious on behalf of others you love. Perhaps that’s a legitimate occasion to be concerned or anxious, rather than being anxious about your own well-being.
I thought of another example in the Bible: Paul was explaining why he didn’t marry, and said that the married man was most concerned about his wife, and how to please her.
I used to think maybe Paul was advocating for celibacy, but he was simply stating a fact.
By nature we are concerned (sometimes even anxious) about others we love in our care. (In our “ministry?”)
Just as Jesus was anxious about Peter being sifted as wheat, so we are all anxious about everyone we love.