Unfollow Me Series

There is a strange paradox in the way we speak today. We live in an age with more freedom than any previous generation — more information, more options, more mobility, more personal expression. Yet even with all this freedom, we are more anxious, more fragmented, more exhausted, and more confused than ever. We have crafted a world that promises liberation but quietly chains the soul. And the deeper irony is that the chains feel self-chosen. We didn’t inherit them; we clicked on them. We downloaded them. We subscribed to them. We curated them. We called them “my truth,” “my identity,” “my journey,” and “my authenticity.” But in the quiet hours — if we’re honest — they have become a burden too heavy to carry.

There is a cultural moment we’re living in where the self has become both the map and the destination. “Follow your heart,” “trust your instincts,” “live your truth,” “find yourself.” These are the mantras of the age. They sound like freedom, but they produce the very opposite. Because the human heart, untethered from God, becomes a compass with a broken needle — spinning, spinning, spinning, but never finding true north. We have been discipled by our desires without ever noticing we were being discipled at all.

And into this landscape, Jesus speaks a word as jarring now as it was the first time He said it:

> “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself…” (Matthew 16:24).

Deny myself? This is the one thing our age refuses to do. The modern world says, “Obey yourself.” Jesus says, “Deny yourself.” The modern world says, “Center yourself.” Jesus says, “Lose yourself.” The modern world says, “Define yourself.” Jesus says, “Let Me define you.” And the modern world says, “Follow your own path.” Jesus says, “Follow Me.”

Before Jesus ever calls us to follow Him, He calls us to unfollow — unfollow the voices that form us without our permission, unfollow the inner scripts we have mistaken for identity, unfollow the self that has treated us like a demanding master. Jesus never competes with the idols He intends to overthrow. His first invitation is always subtraction before addition:

> Unfollow yourself. Then you’ll be free to follow Me.

We tend to think the greatest spiritual threats come from outside us — bad influences, toxic environments, cultural confusion. And yes, those are real. But Jesus points inward first: “The problem,” He teaches, “is not primarily the world around you. It’s the world within you.” The disciples thought the danger was Rome. Jesus said the danger was self. Not because the self is worthless or meaningless, but because the self, when enthroned, becomes a tyrant. The heart was never designed to be its own king. It buckles under the weight.

Our generation is drowning in self-focus. Every moment of the day demands our attention to ourselves — our preferences, our mood, our presentation, our image, our needs. Social media isn’t the enemy, but it has trained us to live as if we are the producers, directors, editors, and stars of our own personal documentary. Every click reinforces the illusion that the world is watching us — approving or rejecting us — and we anxiously check our reflections not in a mirror but in the reaction feeds of others. We are never fully off stage.

Jesus sees this, and He loves us enough to tell us the truth:

> You can’t follow Jesus and follow yourself at the same time.

One of those must be unfollowed.

And that is where the tension lies. Because unfollowing ourselves means surrendering the illusion that we know best how to run our own lives. It means confessing that we don’t have all the answers, that our instincts have misled us more than once, that our desires don’t always point toward life. It means admitting that the self is not a savior.

This is deeply countercultural. But it is beautifully liberating.

There is a reason Jesus’ first disciples could walk away from everything so quickly — nets, careers, identities, reputations. It wasn’t because they were reckless. It was because the voice that called them awakened something deeper than their own ambitions. The moment they heard Him, something inside them shifted. They recognized that His voice had authority not because it coerced, but because it was true. Nothing in them wanted to cling to the old life when the new life was calling their name.

What Jesus offered them — and what He offers us — is not merely a new direction. It is a new identity. A new center. A new Self rooted not in ego but in Christ. And that begins not with following but with unfollowing.

Unfollowing means letting go of the lies you’ve believed about who you are. It means surrendering the fear that if you don’t control your life, it will fall apart. It means trusting that the One who knit you together in your mother’s womb knows how to lead you better than the self you’ve been trying to manage. Unfollowing is not loss. It is liberation.