Dear Akpan,
I can hardly believe that July has decided to grace us with her ever-gentle presence. Where I am, the weather seems to change its mind every other day, but I have made a mid-year resolution not to utter a single word of complaint about it.
Complaining about whatever season I find myself in has quietly become a habit of mine. Yet, in doing so, I often forget that Divine Providence has graciously spared my life to witness another season in good health. What a gift that is.
There is so much to be thankful for, far more than there is to complain about. And as I remind myself of this truth, I hope it serves as a gentle reminder for you as well. Whatever this season may hold, may we not become so preoccupied with its inconveniences that we overlook the countless mercies woven into it.
Before I begin to bore you with all the delights July has been bringing to my doorstep, I should first tell you what June did to me.
June carried me to Ontario twice, and I enjoyed every bit of it. It was a month marked by reunions, laughter, and the quiet joy of seeing family and friends I had not seen in years. I also had the joy of meeting, for the very first time, people I had only ever known through a series of Zoom calls. There was something deeply special about finally putting faces, embraces, and shared moments to voices that had become so familiar over time.
The month also taught me a few things about myself. I discovered that I no longer enjoy sitting by the window on flights, and I may be just a little more afraid of flying than I care to admit. But perhaps the greatest discovery was that I truly do long for adventure. Instead of flying home, I chose to spend nearly thirty-six hours aboard a train from Ontario back to Winnipeg, a journey that was slow, scenic, and surprisingly restful.
But June taught me something far more important about myself—something that beautifully aligns with what it means to follow Jesus.
You see, I have always liked to be prepared. I dislike being caught off guard, so I tend to pack for every possible scenario. “Just in case,” I tell myself as I squeeze one more item into my bag. Another sweater, another notebook, another pair of shoes, another something I might need.
The truth is, I almost never do.
Yet those extra belongings perform one task remarkably well: they slow me down.
They become an inconvenience at every stage of the journey. Every transfer, every staircase, every platform, and every seat reminds me that I am carrying far more than I actually need.
The lesson became especially clear on my train ride home. I had been given a pair of seats, and while most passengers could comfortably stretch out across both, I could not. My luggage, or rather, my four bags of personal belongings, occupied the space that should have been mine. Instead of enjoying the room I had been given, I found myself cramped into a single seat while my bags rested comfortably beside me.
It was a humbling picture.
I had sacrificed comfort for things I never truly needed. The very items I believed would make my journey easier had, in fact, made it more burdensome.
As I reflected on that moment, I could not help but wonder how often I do the very same thing in my walk with Christ. How often do I insist on carrying things He never asked me to bring?
More often than not, the heaviest luggage is the luggage of self.
Whatever God has not assigned for us to carry, even the little things we quietly sneak into our bags, eventually becomes a source of weariness. We convince ourselves that we need them, that they will somehow make the journey easier. But before long, they begin to slow us down, occupy our hands, cloud our judgment, and leave us exhausted.
That baggage may look like fear, ambition, carefully laid-out plans, personal preferences, the desire to remain in control, or even good things that have quietly become greater priorities than obedience. None of these seem particularly heavy when packed one at a time, but together they weigh down the soul.
My dear Akpan, I believe it is difficult to follow Jesus while carrying such luggage. The journey of discipleship was never intended to be travelled with hands full of self. It is far better to lay it all down.
There is one Scripture that has pursued me relentlessly this year, almost like a thief that stole something precious to its owner. It is Luke 9:23:
“And he said to them all, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.”
I have found myself returning to this verse time and time again, each reading uncovering something I had previously overlooked.
One thought, in particular, has lingered with me: a cross is not something you carry casually. It demands both hands, your full attention, and your whole strength. There is hardly any room left to hold on to extra luggage.
Perhaps that is precisely the point.
If my hands are full of my own baggage—my fears, ambitions, preferences, comforts, and carefully guarded plans—how can I truly take up my cross? And if I am carrying my cross as Christ commanded, what room is left for everything else I insist on bringing?
The call of Jesus leaves us with a sobering question: Are we carrying our cross, or are we carrying our baggage? It is difficult to do both at the same time.
I suppose the summary of my long-winded letter is this: I felt it was important to share with you this difficult yet necessary journey that you and I have been called to undertake.
The journey of following Jesus requires us to make a decision, to examine what we are carrying, and to determine what must be laid down. I have come to the realization that I cannot carry my own luggage and still fully embrace the cross Christ has called me to carry.
The only way to deal with the luggage of self is when it is nailed to the cross.
So, I have chosen to lay my luggage down. I want to carry only my cross.
My dear Akpan, will you do the same?
Will you join me in laying down the things that weigh us down, so that we may follow Jesus with willing hearts, open hands, and undivided devotion?
Your fellow traveller,
Adunni
P.S. If God were to call you today to move quickly for an important assignment, would you be found following closely behind Him?
Or would the weight of your luggage slow you down? Would the things you have insisted on carrying become the very things that delay your obedience, hinder your movement, or cause you to miss the opportunity altogether?
The journey with Christ requires readiness. There are moments when He calls us to move, and in those moments, we must ask ourselves whether we are travelling light enough to follow.
July 17, 2026
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