Would You Still Follow Jesus?

Beyond Miracles, the Resurrection, and the Boundaries of Belief

I have a question I believe every Christian should be willing to sit with, even if the answer makes us uncomfortable.

If the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus were not historical realities, would you still follow him?

I have asked this question of fellow Christians, and more often than not, I have been met with disapproval. The question itself seems to cross a boundary that many believers are unwilling to approach. The familiar response often comes from Paul’s words: if Christ has not been raised, our faith is futile.

Paul’s statement in 1 Corinthians 15:14 is central to traditional Christian theology. I understand that. I understand that the resurrection is not a minor detail in Christianity. For many believers, it is the very foundation upon which their faith rests.

But I am asking a different question.

I am asking what would remain if we temporarily set aside the miracles, the resurrection, the promises of salvation, and the doctrines that have come to define Christianity. What would remain of Jesus himself?

Would his teachings still have value? Would his character still be worthy of admiration? Would his message of love, mercy, forgiveness, humility, and service still be enough to inspire us to live differently?

And if the answer is no, I believe we owe ourselves an honest examination of why we follow him.

Before the Miracles, There Was a Man

I sometimes imagine what it would have been like to encounter Jesus during his lifetime.

Imagine meeting him before witnessing a miracle. Imagine sitting with him, listening to him speak, observing how he treated people, and watching how he responded to those whom society had rejected.

Imagine hearing him challenge hypocrisy without abandoning compassion. Imagine watching him extend dignity to people whom religious authorities condemned. Imagine listening as he turned familiar religious teachings into profound invitations to examine the heart.

What if I had encountered that man?

What if I had witnessed his character, his courage, his wisdom, and his compassion? What if I had seen a person who embodied love in a way that challenged everything I thought I understood about God, goodness, and what it means to be human?

I would like to believe I would have followed him.

Not because I had seen him walk on water. Not because I had witnessed him heal the sick. Not because I knew how his story would end.

I would like to believe I would have followed him because I recognized something extraordinary in the way he lived.

I would have wanted to learn from him. I would have wanted to understand how he saw the world. I would have wanted to become more like him.

Would that not have been a meaningful beginning to faith?

The Disciples Were Not Following a Completed Doctrine

When we read the Gospels, we sometimes judge the disciples for their misunderstandings, their doubts, their moments of fear, and their failures to comprehend what Jesus was telling them.

Peter misunderstood. The disciples argued among themselves. They struggled to understand his mission. Some abandoned him in his darkest hour.

Yet they followed him.

They walked with him, listened to him, learned from him, and gradually became people whose lives were shaped by their relationship with him.

We should be careful not to romanticize their journey. The Gospels portray a complicated progression of belief, confusion, loyalty, and failure. The disciples did not all understand Jesus in the same way, and their expectations about his mission were often mistaken.

But their story invites an important question: Must a person fully understand every theological implication of Jesus’ identity before beginning to follow his way?

The disciples’ relationship with Jesus developed over time. Their understanding was incomplete, yet their journey had already begun.

And the resurrection, as presented in the Gospels, came after they had spent time with him, although the Gospels also describe miracles and extraordinary claims during his ministry.

Why, then, do we sometimes make perfect theological understanding the starting point for discipleship rather than the beginning of a journey toward understanding?

Why do we place so much emphasis on having the correct answers before we begin practicing the very lessons Jesus taught?

Perhaps we have become so concerned with defining the conditions of faith that we have overlooked the transformation faith is supposed to inspire.

Is His Wisdom Not Enough to Follow?

Consider the Sermon on the Mount.

Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. Reconcile with your brother. Give without seeking recognition. Do not judge hypocritically. Forgive. Practice humility. Seek first the kingdom of God.

Imagine a world in which people genuinely lived these teachings.

Imagine political leaders who valued mercy over humiliation. Imagine religious communities that welcomed sincere questions rather than punished them. Imagine families that practiced forgiveness instead of keeping records of one another’s failures. Imagine people who served without needing applause and loved without demanding that everyone first agree with them.

Would these teachings lose their value if someone questioned a miracle?

Would the wisdom of forgiveness suddenly become less wise? Would compassion become less necessary? Would loving our neighbors cease to be a worthy pursuit?

I struggle to see how.

Much of what we admire in moral philosophy resonates with principles Jesus expressed, particularly in the Sermon on the Mount. I would not claim that all philosophy originates there, because wisdom traditions across the world have developed their own profound insights. But the ethical vision Jesus presented remains extraordinary in its challenge to our pride, our resentment, our desire for recognition, and our tendency to divide humanity into those deserving of love and those who are not.

His teachings challenge us not merely to behave better but to become different people.

And that brings me to a question I cannot easily dismiss.

If I recognize profound wisdom in his teachings, if I see goodness in his character, and if I believe his way of living can transform my life and the lives of others, must I first resolve every question surrounding his miracles before I can begin following him?

I am not saying that miracles do not matter to Christians. I am asking whether the desire to follow Jesus can begin with the recognition of his goodness and wisdom.

Can the journey begin before every question has been answered?

Have We Confused Following Jesus With Defending a Belief System?

I sometimes wonder whether we have become so protective of our religious identities that we struggle to distinguish between following Jesus and defending our beliefs about Jesus.

We inherit doctrines. We learn creeds. We are taught which questions are acceptable and which questions might place us outside the boundaries of belonging.

Before long, we may become more concerned with defending our understanding of Jesus than practicing his teachings.

We may defend the doctrine of love while holding resentment toward our neighbor. We may proclaim the importance of mercy while condemning people who disagree with us. We may insist that others believe correctly while giving ourselves permission to live inconsistently with what we profess.

What have we gained if our beliefs about Jesus become more important than the qualities he taught us to cultivate?

What does it mean to profess faith in the Prince of Peace while allowing our hearts to be governed by hostility? What does it mean to celebrate forgiveness while refusing to forgive? What does it mean to proclaim God’s love while treating those outside our religious circle as though they are less deserving of dignity?

These questions are not accusations against Christianity. They are questions Christians should be willing to ask ourselves.

And they are questions I must ask of myself first.

I do not want to replace one rigid belief system with another. I do not want to insist that my interpretation is superior to everyone else’s. I want to be willing to examine my own assumptions with the same honesty I bring to the assumptions of others.

That, too, must be part of the journey.

What If Faith Begins With Recognition?

What if faith is not always a finished conclusion but can also be the beginning of a relationship with wisdom?

What if a person encounters the teachings of Jesus, recognizes their beauty, and begins to live them before resolving every question about theology?

What if someone begins by practicing forgiveness, learns to love those who are difficult to love, becomes less judgmental, serves others without recognition, and gradually discovers that these practices are changing the person they are becoming?

Would that journey be meaningless because it began with questions?

I cannot accept that it would.

There is an important distinction here. I am not arguing that the resurrection is irrelevant to Christianity or that the historical claims surrounding Jesus can simply be dismissed. Nor am I suggesting that all Christians must reach the same conclusions I do.

The resurrection is central to traditional Christian faith, and Paul makes that unmistakably clear. A person who rejects it would understand Christianity differently from someone who affirms it.

But the question I am exploring is personal and ethical as well as theological.

What draws me toward Jesus? What is it about his life and teachings that I find worthy of following? Is my desire to live with greater love, mercy, humility, and courage dependent entirely upon whether every supernatural claim can be demonstrated to my satisfaction?

Or can I acknowledge the questions I have while still allowing his teachings to challenge and transform me?

I believe there is room for that honest examination.

Perhaps faith is not weakened by every sincere question. Perhaps sometimes our questions reveal which parts of our faith we have examined for ourselves and which parts we have merely inherited.

“O You of Little Faith”

Jesus used the expression “O you of little faith” in moments when his followers were afraid, anxious, or struggling to trust.

I sometimes wonder whether we have been too quick to associate faith with certainty and too slow to consider the courage it takes to examine what we believe.

There is a difference between asking a question because we wish to understand and asking one because we wish to destroy. There is a difference between intellectual arrogance and intellectual honesty. There is a difference between rejecting wisdom and admitting that we have not yet resolved every question about its source.

I do not believe asking whether I would still follow Jesus without the resurrection necessarily means I have rejected him.

It may mean I am trying to understand what following him truly means to me.

Perhaps my question reveals something I need to examine. Perhaps it challenges an assumption I have never seriously questioned. Perhaps it will lead me toward a deeper conviction, or perhaps it will leave me with questions I must continue to carry.

But I would rather examine my faith honestly than pretend to possess a certainty I do not have.

And I would rather begin practicing the love Jesus taught than use the absence of perfect certainty as an excuse to postpone becoming more loving.

So, Would You Still Follow Jesus?

I return to the question that started this reflection.

If the resurrection were not real, would you still follow Jesus?

I cannot answer that question for you. I can only tell you what draws me toward him.

I am drawn to the call to love my neighbor as myself. I am drawn to the invitation to forgive, to show mercy, to serve without recognition, to confront hypocrisy within myself, and to stop confusing outward appearances with the condition of the heart.

I am drawn to the possibility that the kingdom of God is not merely a destination to anticipate but a reality that begins transforming how we live here and now.

I am drawn to a way of living that asks me to become less governed by ego and more guided by love.

And I want to know whether these things matter to you, too.

If you follow Jesus, is it because you have been told that you must accept a particular set of beliefs to be considered a true Christian? Is it because you fear the consequences of disbelief? Is it because you believe in the miracles? Is it because you believe the resurrection is the decisive victory over death?

Or is there something about the character of Jesus, the wisdom of his teachings, and the life he calls us to live that makes you want to follow him?

Perhaps your answer is all of these things. Perhaps you cannot separate them. I respect that possibility.

But I invite you to consider one more question.

If someone who had never entered a church watched the way you live, the way you forgive, the way you treat strangers, the way you respond to disagreement, and the way you love people who cannot benefit you, would that person recognize something of Jesus in you?

Because in the end, whatever conclusions we reach about the questions surrounding Jesus, we must still face the question of what we are doing with his teachings.

Are we merely defending them?

Or are we allowing them to change us?

I do not want to be someone who can explain Jesus but cannot embody his compassion. I do not want to win arguments about faith while losing opportunities to practice love. I do not want my identity as a Christian to become a substitute for the difficult, lifelong work of becoming a better human being.

I want to follow the way he taught.

And I believe we should be able to discuss what that means without fear of being condemned for asking honest questions.

So, I leave you with this invitation.

Do not answer me because your denomination has already answered for you. Do not answer me because you fear what other Christians might think. Do not answer me merely to defend an identity you have inherited.

Sit with the question.

Examine your heart.

Ask yourself whether you are following Jesus because of what you hope to receive from him, because of what you have been taught to believe about him, because of who you understand him to be, or because of the person his teachings are calling you to become.

Then be honest with yourself.

Are you following Jesus, or are you primarily protecting your beliefs about Jesus?

Perhaps the most important question is not whether we can defend everything we believe about him.

Perhaps it is whether we are willing to live what he taught us.