1 Corinthians 11:1

Paul — one of the earliest and most influential leaders of the Christian church — is writing to a community of believers in the city of Corinth, in ancient Greece. They were navigating complicated questions about how to live faithfully in a messy, pluralistic culture. This one-sentence instruction closes a long section of practical teaching. Paul boldly invites them to imitate him — not out of arrogance, but because he himself is committed to imitating Jesus. It's a chain of discipleship: Christ's life shapes Paul's choices and conduct, and Paul's life is meant to be a visible, followable pattern for those watching him. The word 'example' here implies a repeatable pattern, not a perfect one.

Jesus, make my life worth pointing someone else toward — not because I have it figured out, but because I am genuinely following you. Help me be honest about my failures and faithful in my direction. Let someone who watches me find their way to you. Amen.

Nobody says this anymore. 'Follow my example.' It sounds either arrogant or terrifying — because if you say it, you actually have to live it. And most of us know ourselves well enough to know we'd be setting a very uneven standard. But Paul wasn't claiming perfection — he was claiming direction. There's a real difference between 'I have arrived' and 'I am walking this way — come walk with me.' This verse drops two uncomfortable questions in your lap at once. First: who in your life are you watching closely enough to actually imitate? Not just admire from a distance, but genuinely learn from up close — the way they handle conflict, disappointment, ordinary Tuesdays? And second — the harder one — is the shape of your life something you'd honestly feel comfortable inviting someone younger in faith to follow? You don't have to be perfect. But you do have to be pointed somewhere worth following.