Those He Wanted

Mark 3:13-19

February 1, 2026 • Mount Pleasant UMC

Do you remember being on the playground in the days before smartphones and electronic games—in the days when you had to use your imagination to fill up that recess time? I remember the kickball games and how it was always the same two people who were captains. Quickly they would begin to pick teams, and the best players always were chosen first. Now, I know it’s hard to believe it by looking at me now, but I was not all that athletic in my younger years. I was rarely the first one picked. Okay, I was never the first one picked. The choosing would go on and on until someone felt pity on me and said, “Okay, I’ll take Dennis.” Now, is it any wonder that I married a mental health counselor?

Maybe some of you were closer to the top of the list in such times than I was. Maybe some of you were in the middle, or more like me, near the end. There was and probably still is a definite hierarchy when it comes to such things in school. To be picked first was to be wanted. To be picked last—well, at least you were still on the team. Sort of.

One of the words that the Bible uses to describe those who follow Jesus is “chosen” (cf. 1 Peter 2:9). On his last night with his followers, Jesus tells them, “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last…” (John 15:16). Now, a lot of ink has been spilled as to what it means to be “chosen” by Jesus and how that interacts with our free will, but that’s a discussion for another time and place. The point is that we have been chosen, called to follow Jesus. The problem is that a lot of times we accept Jesus’ offer of salvation and then either sit back and wait for heaven, filling a pew every once in a while or get busy doing things, trying to prove our worth. But neither of those is why Jesus chose us. He called us so that he could be our teacher, our rabbi, and we would be his disciples, learners. But what does that mean? I’m so glad you asked because for the next three weeks, leading up to Lent, we are going to look at this question: what does it mean to follow the rabbi Jesus? Now, I’m going to give you the series outline this morning right up front so that you know where we are headed. According to Scripture, following our rabbi means three things: being with him, becoming like him, and doing what he did. That’s not meant to be a three-step process; rather it’s a whole lifestyle. But for the sake of simplicity, we’re going to look at one of those each week, beginning today with here Jesus began with his first disciples.

Mark’s Gospel, you may remember, is most likely the remembrances of Simon Peter. Mark was a cousin of Barnabas, a fellow worker of Paul, but spent part of his life as a companion of Peter. The early church fathers are united in the affirmation that what Mark wrote came out of Peter’s memories and his preaching (cf. Card, Mark: The Gospel of Passion, pgs. 18, 192-193). “It is believed that Mark stayed faithfully by Peter’s side until his death,” and Peter even refers to Mark at one point as his spiritual “son” (1 Peter 5:13). So even though Mark may not have been there, what we hear in his Gospel is the first-hand testimony of a follower who loved Jesus but didn’t always get it right.

As Mark tells the story, Jesus has been preaching for a while and has already been making religious and political leaders mad—and we’re only in the middle of chapter 3! Jesus has also been busy healing people, so much so that when a crowd would gather, people would push forward to try to touch him (3:10), even pushing him into the lake! Even those who were demon possessed were seeking him, asking for healing. He couldn’t keep doing all of the ministry himself. It was time to get some help. So Jesus goes up on a mountainside, Mark says. Luke’s Gospel (6:12-13) says Jesus spent the night praying on the mountain before he chose these twelve men to be his main followers. Disciples, but more than that. Apostles is the word that is used, which means “sent ones.” But before he sends them anywhere, Mark says he called those he wanted, and they came to him to “be with him” (3:14). So the first step in following the rabbi is to be with him.

Jesus had more in mind than just “hanging out” when he called these twelve men to “be with him.” Here’s the context: in first-century Galilee, children ages 4-5 would begin their study of the Torah, or what we know as the first five books of the Old Testament. They would memorize a large part of it and, more importantly, come to understand what it meant. As they grew older, girls would stay home and some of the boys would learn the family trade while others would continue their education, learning the prophets and the writings like Psalms and Proverbs. And after that level of school, somewhat equivalent to our high school, only the very best students continued. They would seek out a rabbi, a teacher, someone they wanted to follow and they would ask if they could be his student. If the rabbi said yes, they would spend all their time with him from that day forward. They would leave home, family and their occupation to be with that rabbi—if he granted them permission once they asked (cf. https://www.thattheworldmayknow.com/rabbi-and-talmidim).

Now here’s what I want you to notice: these Twelve that Jesus called were not with another rabbi. Well, one was. Andrew had been a disciple of John the Baptist, but the rest were not. They were not good enough to be accepted by a rabbi of the time. They were, you might say, the drop outs, the last ones to be chosen, the ones who had to rely on the family trade because they weren’t talented enough or smart enough or whatever to become the student of a rabbi. But what does Mark say about them? These were the ones Jesus wanted to be with him (3:13-14). These were the ones he chose. In these drop outs, Jesus saw potential where no one else did. He knew what others did not: that these twelve would change the world. All they had to do first was be with him.

This represented a “radical rearrangement of their priorities.” If there were other people who had a claim on them (like family) or other priorities (like a job), those had to be put aside for the time being (cf. Kernaghan, Mark [IVPNTC], pg. 79). Their lives were going to be different from here on out because now they had a rabbi. Now they were “sent ones.” And those twelve, standing on that mountain that day, probably had no idea what it meant. Certainly they could not envision the way their lives were going to be turned upside down and the ways they, in turn, would turn the world upside down. All they knew in that moment is that they were invited to be with Jesus. They were chosen. They were wanted. And that’s true for us as well. We may not have any idea what the future holds. All I can tell you today is this: “Whatever you are called to do begins with spending time with Jesus” (McKnight, Mark, pg. 45).

We know that for these twelve, being with Jesus meant walking the hillsides of Galilee, following him to Jerusalem, listening to him teach and preach and sharing meals together. But what does it mean for us, twenty-one centuries later, without the physical presence of Jesus to spend time with? How can we “be with him”?

There are probably as many ways to “be with Jesus” as there are people in this room, but I want to suggest just a few this morning. So to start I want to go back to that last night Jesus was with his disciples, teaching them for the final time in person. He had some comforting words to say about what was to come the next day but also, like anyway, he had some very important things to say on that night before the cross. He told them to keep their hearts from being troubled and to expect the arrival of the Holy Spirit. And, as they passed a giant sculpture of a grapevine, he said, “Remain in me, as I also remain in you…apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:4-5). The older (KJV) translation of that verse says to “abide,” and it can also be translated as “stay” or “dwell” or (my favorite) “make your home in.” Jesus wants us to make our home with him. When you hear that word “home,” what comes to mind? We were traveling a couple of weeks ago, and while we got to see some great places and eat some really great food, by the end of the week my heart was longing for home. “There’s no place like home,” they say, because, as they also say, “Home is where the wifi connects automatically.” There is absolutely no place like home because home is where you are most content. Home is where you live, where you can relax, where you can be yourself. Jesus says, “Make your home in me, as I make my home in you” (cf. Comer, Practicing the Way, pgs. 37-40).

This implies a choice of where we make our home. When we moved here almost eleven years ago, we looked at several houses before we chose the one we now own, the one we call home. We made a choice, based on several factors, and it’s the same in our spiritual life. Where will you abide? What or who will you make your home? Some make their home in social media, endlessly scrolling and scrolling and looking for affirmation, constantly checking to see if there are enough “likes” on the last post. We’re restless, bored, looking for someone else to tell us we are okay. Others make their home in entertainment, always looking for the next buzz or the next big thing. Even churches do this. I had a friend several years ago who was always telling me that the the next thing, the next Christian movie, the next program was going to be “it,” the thing that would bring revival and turn the world around. He lived for the next big thing. Or some make their home in pleasure, believing that one more drink, one more smoke, one more bet, one more romance will bring the contentment they are looking for. Compulsive, addictive, running from their pain and, at the same time, running from their healing. Still others today make their home in politics, believing that the next campaign, the next candidate, the next issue will be what makes a difference. The point is this: we all have a home, a place we live. Where is your home? What do you count on to bring you contentment? Have you make a choice to abide with Jesus, to be with him? Is there time every day when you are just with him? Make your home with Jesus; abide with him.

A second piece of being with Jesus is talking with him, a practice we call prayer. I have come to believe that we make prayer way too complicated. We don’t have problems having a conversation with friends, but when it comes to talking with God we have all sorts of excuses and reasons why we can’t. It’s too hard, I don’t have time, I can’t focus. Shall I go on? I’ve also come to believe we spend a lot more time telling God things he already knows than we do actually talking with him and certainly more than we do listening for him. And I’m not pointing fingers at anyone other than myself this morning. Prayer is not easy for me, partly because I try to make it something it’s not. I love the story of a priest who noticed an elderly man who would come to the church day after day and spend time just sitting alone in the pew. One day, the priest finally asked the old man what he was doing, and the man said, “I look at Him, He looks at me, and we are happy” (Comer 46).

Prayer is simply a conversation with Jesus, and I say “simply” intentionally. It’s telling him what’s on your mind and listening for his response. In my experience, I don’t usually hear him respond in an audible voice, but I get a sense in my spirit or a clear thought that I should or shouldn’t do this or that. And many times he answers with results. As we talked about a few weeks ago, when we pray, either things do or don’t happen in the way we think they should. I’m learning to not tell Jesus so much what to do as to entrust my worries and concerns and fears and joys to him. On my vacation, I read a wonderful book about the life of Mother (now Saint) Teresa, who had a rich life of prayer. The author, a friend of hers, told how she would often pray prayers of thanksgiving even before what she asked for came to pass. If her prayer wasn’t answered promptly, she would say, “Well, we don’t want to go faster than Jesus,” and if her prayer wasn’t answered at all, she said, “If Jesus doesn't want it, then we don’t want it” (Towey, To Love and Be Loved, pg. 129). You know, the only thing the disciples specifically asked Jesus to teach them was how to pray, and he gave them a model prayer that is, at its heart, a prayer of trust. We will pray that together in a few minutes. It’s a prayer prayed in the midst of being with him.

Third: to be with Jesus, we have to slow down. Years ago, Dallas Willard, a professor at UCLA, said that hurry is the great enemy of our spiritual life. He told his students, “You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life” (qtd. in Comer 60). More recently, Pastor Rich Villodas in New York City has put it this way: “Our souls were not created for the kind of speed to which we have grown accustomed. Thus…we are a people with too much to do and not enough time to do it…The pace we live at is often destructive. The lack of margin is debilitating. We are all worn out. In all of this, the problem before us is not just the frenetic pace we live at but what gets pushed out from our lives as a result; that is, life with God” (Villodas, The Deeply Formed Life, pgs. 3-5). We are busying ourselves to death, spiritual death. We fill our lives with so many things, good things, that we don’t have time to be with Jesus. We don’t even have time to be with our brothers and sisters in Christ; we show up at worship if we don’t have anything else on the calendar. And don’t ask me to take on one more thing! Pastors are no different. When we gather together, and someone inevitably asks us how we are, a typical response is, “Oh, I’m so busy. So so busy.” I want to have the courage to truthfully say, “I’m slowing down so I can be with Jesus.” But a lot would have to change to be able to say that truthfully because we are pushed and prodded and encouraged and even rewarded for producing more and going faster and climbing the proverbial ladder rather than for being with Jesus. Even though being with him is what benefits our soul the most, the world does not reward us for that. Songwriter Carolyn Arends wrote these insightful words:

We’ve got to slow down to catch up

Grow young to grow up

No more chasing the wind, let the Spirit lead

Till we slow down to God’s Speed (“God’s Speed,” Recognition, 2021).

When Jesus invited these twelve, those he wanted, to be with him, he didn’t invite them into a rat race. He didn’t invite them into a hurry-up, fast-paced life. He invited them to be. Be with him—that’s it. You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.

“Jesus…called to him those he wanted…that they might be with him…” (3:13-14). Peter, James, John, Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, another James, Thaddaeus, Simon, Judas (3:16-19)—and you. Abiding in him, conversing with him, slowing down to be with him—and then on the final night, he invited them to be with him in one other way, a practice we have continued to this very day. On that night, he gathered those he wanted around a table and they engaged in an ancient feast called Passover. The original celebration was meant to remember and immerse the participants in their history, in the time when they were rescued from slavery in Egypt centuries ago. These twelve would have celebrated this meal every year throughout their lives, and it’s likely they had shared it with Jesus at least twice before. They knew what to expect. The ritual was very strict, set, the same every year—until it wasn’t. This night was not like the others because as they ate, Jesus changed things. Jesus took this meal that pointed to the past and changed it so that it found its meaning in him. The bread—his body. The cup—his blood. His sacrifice for all. No longer did it focus on the past. Instead, Jesus said, “I will not drink again from the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God” (Mark 14:25). It’s a meal that should cause us to anticipate that day when we are with him forever.

There are those who believe that still today somehow the bread and the juice changes into the literal body and blood of Jesus. Without demeaning them, I’ll just say that’s not us. Our tradition believes in what is usually called the “real presence” of Jesus in the bread and in the cup. In some way, he is here, especially present to his people in the act of communion. And so this meal, this act, becomes yet another way to be with him. It’s a meal for those he wanted. For you and for me. That we might be with him. That we might follow our rabbi.

So therefore, in order to be with him, I invite you to join me in prayer as we prepare our hearts for holy communion. Let’s pray.