Following the leader

I’m not a very good disciple.

The term “disciple” (discipleship, discipling) is big in church world. And having used to edit a Christian magazine, my green pen passed that word hundreds of times (sometimes stopping at "discipling" because it just doesn’t look right! Christians made it up, along with “megachurch”). It's so familiar to my eyes and ears, that I haven’t thought much about what the word means except that Jesus had 12 disciples and they were men who followed Him. And if someone asked me are you a disciple—a follower—of Jesus?, I’d say “yup.”

Me wanting to be a better disciple, means becoming a better person, becoming more like Jesus. But I’ve just realized what a selfish way of thinking this is—or at least phrasing it as such. Notice the emphasis on me? On how I think it means that I become a better person? But the word disciple means learning from another smarter, following someone wiser, being trained and taught from someone more experienced.

I’ve interviewed lots of pastors about their discipleship ministries, and I guess, my initial thought has usually been something along the lines of, oh, that’s cool, those people are becoming smarter, more spiritual, better. And maybe in a way, that is in fact (hopefully) happening, but really the ministry should be humbling. And although it may be empowering, it should also be taking away some of the power. In becoming disciples, we admit that we actually do not know what we’re doing sometimes (all of the time). As disciples of Christ, we must rely on Him to take the lead. We merely follow—so hard to do sometimes, especially in our egocentric society.

In Matthew chapter 8, Jesus is in a boat with his disciples. Suddenly a storm sneaks up on them and the disciples get freaked out. So they go wake Jesus who was just trying to squeeze in a nap. Uh, Jesus, we were just wonderin’ if you could give us a hand because pretty sure we’re gonna all die real soon if you don’t do something about those waves. So Jesus calms the storm, and I just smile at the fact that He calls them disciples and then simultaneously says “you of little faith.”

Ever watched little children play sports? The little girl running to first base strains her neck looking down to watch her brand new shoes sparkle in the dust. Aren’t they just beee-uuu-teee-ful with their crisp, white laces?! Meanwhile the first-base girl catches the ball for third out. And the little boy running to catch the football misses it because he’s too busy looking over his shoulder to see just how fast he’s going (you know when they actually try to see the soles of their shoes as their knees kick up behind them) and how much ahead of his opponent he is.

I think me being a disciple may sometimes look like one of them. And it reminds me that in focusing on me, I’ll miss the goal.