Are You a True Disciple of Jesus, or Just Familiar with our Savior?

I can’t shake the question. It’s been pressing on my heart all week, echoing like a whisper I can’t ignore:

“Will Jesus say He knew me when I stand before Him in heaven?”

It hits different when I ask it out loud.
It’s not just about whether I know about You — it’s whether I truly know You. Intimately. Genuinely. Deeply.

Because here’s the thing — I’ve spent years in church pews, sang the worship songs, prayed the public prayers, quoted the Scriptures. But that doesn’t guarantee that You’ll say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” (Matthew 25:23)

Honestly, the thought of standing before You and hearing, “Depart from Me, I never knew you” (Matthew 7:23) — it wrecks me. Not out of fear, but out of reverence. I don’t want a shallow version of this faith. I don’t want a Jesus I visit on Sundays and forget by Monday. I want to live like You are real — because You ARE.

And You’re not just real — You’re everything.

God, You said in Jeremiah 29:13,

“You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart.”

So here I am again tonight, seeking You with my whole heart. Not for blessings. Not for comfort. Not even for answers. Just for You.


Jesus,
There are moments when I look around and realize how many people claim to know You… but how few actually live like they do. And if I’m being brutally honest — I’ve had seasons where I was one of them.

I said the right words. I knew the theology. But my heart was numb. My prayers were mechanical. And my Bible collected more dust than revelation.

But You didn’t give up on me.
You pursued me. You waited for me. You loved me back to life.

How can I ever thank You for that?

“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:8

Thank You, Jesus, for wanting to know me. That truth alone melts my soul. You, the Creator of the universe, chose me. Not because I’m worthy, but because You’re good. You didn’t grow tired of my inconsistency. You didn’t give up on me when I wandered. You held my hand in the valley and whispered, “I’m still here.”


I think sometimes we forget that knowing You isn’t just about information — it’s about relationship. And relationships take time. Intentionality. Conversation. Trust.

You’ve shown me that real intimacy with You is built in the secret place — not the spotlight. In whispered prayers. In wrestling with doubt. In the moments no one else sees.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10

You’ve taught me to be still. And in that stillness, I’ve come to know You not just as Savior… but as Friend. As Shepherd. As King… and yet closer than my breath.


Lord, I’ve been thinking about how we treat this relationship sometimes like a checklist.
Did I read my Bible? ✅
Did I pray before my meal? ✅
Did I go to church? ✅

But You’re not looking for a checklist. You’re looking for communion.

You want us to abide.

“Abide in Me, and I in you…” – John 15:4

What an honor that is. That we — broken, distracted, imperfect — get to dwell in the presence of the Almighty God, every single day. What grace. What undeserved grace.


Here’s the confronting part — and I won’t sugarcoat it:
I think we need to stop pretending that proximity to Christian culture is the same as proximity to Christ.

Just because I grew up in church doesn’t mean I know You.
Just because I listen to worship music doesn’t mean I worship You.
Just because I post Scriptures online doesn’t mean I live them.

I’m tired of half-hearted Christianity.
I don’t want to flirt with faith. I want to marry myself to it.


Jesus,
I want You to recognize me when I walk into eternity.
I want You to look me in the eyes and say, “You walked with Me. You trusted Me. You knew Me — and I knew you.”

So here’s my prayer — raw and unfiltered:


Lord,


Strip me of every performance-driven mindset.
Tear down the walls I’ve built around my heart.
Expose every false version of You I’ve believed.
Silence the noise of religion and bring me back to the wonder of relationship.

Help me to know You as You truly are — not who I’ve imagined or heard about secondhand.
I want Your truth, not my version of it.
More than blessings, more than breakthrough — I want You.

Jesus, teach me to seek Your face, not just Your hand.
Let me fall in love with Your Word all over again.
Make my heart burn like the disciples on the road to Emmaus when You opened the Scriptures to them. (Luke 24:32)

And when I’m tempted to perform, to impress, or to hide — remind me that You never asked for perfection. You asked for proximity. You asked for love.


I feel the weight of eternity pressing into this moment.

How I live here matters. Not for salvation — that’s grace alone — but for relationship.
This life is training ground for forever.
I want to show up in heaven already familiar with Your voice.
I want to walk in and feel like I’m home, not like I’m meeting a stranger.

The truth is, Jesus, without You I’d be so lost. I’ve seen what my life looks like when I drift — and it’s ugly. It’s aimless. It’s hollow.

You are my anchor when the world sways.
You are the only constant in this chaotic life.


“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.” – John 15:5

Apart from You, I can do nothing.

And maybe that’s the whole point.
Knowing You isn’t about striving… it’s about surrender.
It’s not about doing more… it’s about abiding deeper.
It’s not about being “good enough”… it’s about being in love enough to never let go.


Final Prayer of Gratitude

Thank You, Jesus, for desiring to know me more.
Thank You for never growing tired of our relationship, even when I bring my brokenness to the table.
Thank You for revealing Yourself to me through Your Word — for speaking into my soul, for comforting me when I’m weary, for correcting me when I stray.

Thank You for choosing me.
I’m not just a name in the crowd to You — I’m Your child.
And I want to spend the rest of my life, and all eternity, getting to know You more.


So tonight, I ask again — not just as a question, but as a commitment:

How well do I know Jesus?

Not well enough.
But I will.

Every day, every prayer, every choice —
I will keep chasing Your heart.

Until the day I stand before You face to face,
and You smile and say,

“I know you.”


Amen.