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Regret settled in as soon as I pulled into the Wendy’s drive-thru during lunch hour. I inched forward, then stopped. My car idled for what seemed like forever, and then it happened: hell showed up in the form of a stink bug. This armored nuisance on my dashboard threatened to ruin the pleasant promise of a chicken salad. With careful precision, I scooped the pest into a tissue just as the line began to move. Lowering the window, I shook the tissue outside, relieved when the bug flew away. The car behind me honked and I accelerated, swinging wide and ending up several feet from the drive-thru window. To grab my food, I had to unbuckle my seat belt then open the door, partially getting out. Still grumbling as I pulled away, I glanced in the rearview mirror. The car behind me had mimicked my wide turn and now sat just as crooked. Farther ahead, I slowed and looked back—every car in line was angled the same way. Why had they followed me? Clearly, they could see I’d swung out of the proper lane by mistake. That moment stuck with me—especially hours later, when a sales marketer on the phone repeated, “Make sure to follow me on social media…. make sure to follow me….” “Well, first, tell me where you’re headed so I can decide,” I joked. Then silence. “Hello?” I called out. She laughed. “I’m sorry but no one’s ever asked me that! I guess I don’t really know where I’m going—but it’ll be fun getting there! I promise.” I thought about her words later that evening. Earlier in the day, I’d watched drivers follow my embarrassing move, costing them time and effort to get their food. A few days earlier, I saw guests from an event form one long line at a food table clearly designed for two sides. No one questioned it—until someone stepped out and used the other side, and only then did others follow. I wondered: do most people follow another without thinking that act through? These days, nearly everything, and everyone (me included) has a “follow” icon. Merriam-Webster defines follow as: to go, proceed, or come after; follow the guide. And that definition made me think: Are we even getting to know the guide before falling in line? After all, the follower has a duty to research, and the guide has a duty, a leadership role, to provide clarity and purpose. “Let this one go, Karina,” I told myself. “There’s no moral lesson to be learned here.” But I didn’t listen to myself. Instead, I ruminated. I observed. And my heart began to stir. There was a bigger picture. I was sure of it. Now, if only I could pinpoint what that picture was. As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long. That evening, as I prepared fish fillets, usually I would think about the fishermen behind the catch—but tonight, the fishermen from long ago earned the spotlight. Take a moment and imagine with me…. You’re standing in a boat. Hands blistered from hauling nets. It's early—the sea is quiet, the routine set. Not much of a catch today. Then you hear the words: “Follow me.” Words that tug at a longing you’ve carried your entire life. You look up. It’s Jesus. The one people whisper about. The Teacher. Healer. The One who speaks, and storms obey. But He’s not talking to the crowds now. He’s talking to you. And somehow, that’s enough. You don’t ask for a plan. You don’t ask what’s next. You drop the net. You step onto shore. And you go. You follow. That’s what the disciples did. They walked away from boats, from family, from the familiar. Not because they were foolish, but because they knew something about Him was worth everything. Their response wasn’t blind—it was faith sharpened by recognition. It wasn’t about popularity, but purpose. And where did it lead them? To dusty roads and miracles. To long days, harder questions, and deeper faith. To watching Him raise the dead—and willingly walk to His own death. It led to fear. Then fire. Then boldness. It led to a mission that would shake the world. Their one decision—to follow—not only changed the trajectory of their life’s path but changed who they became. What a powerful realization: Who we follow is who we become. Today, with a quick screen tap, we follow people we admire; voices we don’t often question, and trends we don’t think through. But where are those that we follow going? What is their purpose? Do they even know? Jesus did. He knew exactly where He was going. The disciples followed Jesus—and became more than fishermen. They became world-changers. “World-changers,” I whispered, slipping the tray of fish into the oven before stepping outside into the cool air. The clear sky beckoned, pulling my thoughts back again to long ago…. The rushing tide lapping against the side of a worn fishing boat…the soothing rhythm of ebb and flow, and I am in that boat, nets in hand. And then a voice calls from the shore. A voice as relevant then as it is today. Follow me. And in that moment, I realize—the call was never just to the fishermen… it’s to me, too. I drop my nets and follow, knowing that who I’m about to walk with is the very person I want to become more like, because in the end…. We all follow someone…. But only One is worth becoming like. ~Karina Garrison
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