Jesus only needed 12 followers, not 100
Isn’t recruiting those 88 extra really asking for a lot?
To be a follower of biblical precept is a challenging task indeed, one not every person can maintain. Jesus must’ve known this… he asked for only twelve. Twelve disciples, twelve principal followers, to spread forth His word. For the son of God, Lord of the universe, twelve was enough.
Yet here I sit, readers, being told 100 is the modern requirement, the new standard. It scarcely seems feasible, if not downright sacrilegious.
Don’t mistake me, I’m as grateful as any for the wonders of technology, for a country to speak freely within, and for a muse to amuse on occasion. Still… I recall my humble childhood, and a more humbling lesson. Jesus required only twelve.
Some have questioned the steep demands those above our own meager station have set out. They would claim only madmen court the wrath of a vengeful God. However, is this not the current state of our cherished medium, forcing upon us all a standard more than eight times the number of followers that pleased the Lord?
In my illustrious time writing here, I’ve made scarcely enough for a cup of coffee, which is the base unit metric by which I evaluate my finances. My ability to caffeinate myself notwithstanding, this platform did provide me the exhilarating rush of my first .72 cents from something I’d written. More than that, I had been noticed, by someone other than my writing partner or sister, for the first time. I hadn’t yet garnered any followers of my own, yet the joy of having something to say was exhilarating.
The recent shift in eligibility criteria is a sound economic decision, presumably. Paying out pittances to smaller writers for their labor comes with an administrative cost, I’m sure, and now the more concentrated distribution will channel platform revenue into more established coffers.
While some may lament that the more well connected and advantaged reap this benefit while inchoate authors are left to find other ways to afford a cappuccino, I say: render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s.
We read and write not for the fame and fortune of a coveted triple-digit disciple count — those are worldly trifles. And while there’s a certain allure to pennies once again flooding my piggy bank, the thrill of monetization (the measure of true partnership, as it’s being defined presently) does little to bestill my questing heart.
So I will not ask you to follow me*. I will not ask you for a follow-for-follow, pro bono endeavor so that I may once again be ushered forth on the road towards affording a second cup of joe.
*follow me
No, instead, I will be satisfied with endeavoring each moment to become more accomplished and caring, more insightful and honest. Bravery is a practice.
Perhaps forty days and forty nights in a content desert will leave me gasping for an oasis packed with followers, more numerous than the descendants of the twelve tribes of Israel. A powerful enough audience to make the platform take notice is enticing, along with the rush of social media attention to validate our solitary efforts.
Still I ask you — if twelve was good enough for Jesus, why can’t it be good enough for us?
