What's a Disciple Anyway?

[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]

Some of Jesus’ last words to his followers were the Great Commission, where he told them, “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19). If I had been there, I think I would have been tempted to stop him and ask for some clarification. What, exactly, did Jesus mean by “disciple?” What were the signs that someone had become a disciple, that they were complete and I could check them off my list and move on to the next person? 

Merriam-Webster defines “disciple” as:
one who accepts and assists in spreading the doctrines of another: as
a :  one of the twelve in the inner circle of Christ's followers according to the Gospel accounts
b :  a convinced adherent of a school or individual

If we apply those definitions to what Jesus called his followers to do—make disciples—our job seems pretty easy. We tell people about Jesus, they become “a convinced adherent of a school or individual” by believing and trusting in Jesus, and on we go to the next person. 

Except that’s not really what Jesus did. Most of his ministry days were spent with the same twelve people, even after they were convinced of who he was. For Jesus, making disciples wasn’t a one-time thing, and I don’t think it is for us either. 

Making disciples isn’t another item on the “Good Little Christian” to-do list, and if we’ve told someone about God we’re good to go. Disciple-making is the continual, slow, good work of being the hands and feet of Christ to all we come into contact with. It can (and should) look like telling people about God, but it’s so much more than that. Making disciples is also about encouraging fellow believers when they are down, it is about showing up when we don’t feel like it, it is about continuing to work out our faith with the people around us long after an initial commitment to Christ. 

It is not flashy, it is not instant, it is not easy. 

It is trustworthy, it is patient, it is enduring. 

Jesus didn’t exchange his disciples every time they didn’t understand what he was up to (which was often). Instead, he stuck with them, slowly showing them what life with him could really look like. We don’t need to be intimidated by the Great Commission, thinking we have to move to another country and be telling hundreds of people a day about Jesus (though that may be what some of us are supposed to do)—instead, we can be part of the work of making disciples, wherever we are. We can invest in others and allow them to do the same for us as we live out Jesus' words together. 

[Brianna DeWitt believes in Jesus, surrounding yourself with good people, and that desserts are best when they involve chocolate and peanut butter. You can read more of her musings on her own blog or follow her on Twitter @bwitt722.]

Daily Bread and American Dream Bread

Ah, the American Dream.

A good job, a spacious home, a white picket fence, a golden retriever, and a new-to-you Honda Odyssey. You can picture the Instagram account, right? If you’re new to Instagram, here’s what you need to know: Instagram is a photo-editing app that many people use on their phones so they can project beautifully edited and filtered photos of the following:

1. Green smoothies in a mason jar (2 c leafy greens, 2 c water or almond milk, 3 c ripe fruit)
2. Organic foodstuffs, like apples, artfully arranged in a hand-thrown ceramic bowl
3. Selfies at the Mumford & Sons concert
4. Kids running through a sprinkler, ducking under drops of water, laughing uproariously 

Here’s my latest Instagram:

Looks pretty good, right? My life must be perfect! I must be a great parent and my kids look like they never fight and they always eat their vegetables.

But here’s the problem with Instagram, and with the American Dream generally: its lifestyle is entirely antithetical to the lifestyle that Christ expects. You know what doesn’t look great on Instagram? Daily bread. Humility. Justice. Sacrifice. Self-control.

The world tells you to rise to your highest level of competence—to achieve to your highest potential.

Christ tells you to die to yourself—to take up your cross and deny yourself.

Now, I don’t mean to mislead you. I use Instagram like so many of you, and I think that if Jesus were living among us, then he would use probably use Instagram too. But what does it look like to project Daily Bread rather than American Dream Bread?

Well, I think it looks a lot like private acts of faithfulness and trust. It looks like Bible reading and prayer and hard conversations with people we love. It looks like responsible living. It looks like practicing self-control with our finances, with our words, with our dinner choices, and with our time. Notice that the life of Christ has many of the same elements present in the American dream—money, friends, conversation, food, pleasure—just on an entirely different scale. It’s measured and valued differently.

If you’re like me, then you might have a hard time getting out of your own way. It’s hard to trust that God will “show up” when you feel that you have all the tools to accomplish your goals on your own. It’s hard to step aside and let God control your life when it seems that you can do a pretty good job of controlling it by yourself. But if you’re like me, then you also know that you might have what you want, but you probably don’t have what you need: Daily Bread, humility, justice, sacrifice, and self-control.

A Different Kind of Radical

[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]

When I take a step back and look at my life, it seems pretty boring. I go to work, maybe Bible study or an activity with friends, go to sleep, and repeat. Throw in some hanging out with my family, grocery shopping and running errands, church and youth group on Sundays, and my life is pretty well summed up. Nothing about it screams “Radical!” or even “Slightly unusual!” Because from the outside, it’s not.

Sometimes when I hear about people who are living in Africa telling people about Jesus, or who have sold nearly all their possessions to give to the poor, I feel a little guilty. If they’re doing all that for God, then surely whatever I’m doing is meager and petty in comparison. I might as well quit even trying, because I don’t seem to be capable of that kind of radical.

We see the grandiose, dramatic things people do and wonder if they count more for the kingdom of God than our routines full of classes, soccer practice, meetings, and laundry. 

Yet I wonder if our view of “living radically for God” has gotten warped. At its very core, there’s something radical about following Jesus and seeking to live like him. When we look at the messages fed to us each day, many of them encourage us to pursue things for our own ultimate benefit, whether it’s a high-profile job, a glamorous house, or relationships that are all about our own wants and desires. The focus is almost entirely on us and what we can get from things.

 In Luke 9, Jesus calls several different people to follow him, and his comments to them are not exactly supportive. He doesn’t tell them that by following him they will become famous, acquire riches, or even make new friends. Instead, he tells them almost the exact opposite—life with Jesus means being willing to give up all of that. And not just give up what we may already have, but give up the life of pursuing those things to pursue him above all else.

So maybe Jesus’ call to order our lives after him is more radical than it seems. Instead of one big radical moment, what if our lives are made up of a tiny thousand radical moments? Of moments of conscious decision-making to order our lives not as society tells us to or as we ourselves may want to, but ordering it so that everything falls in line with what God tells us to pursue? While jobs, houses, relationships, and many other things can be good, they are not what Jesus tells us is best. He is best. When we seek him, we may find those other things as well, but there is no guarantee. And to seek him above all else, knowing it may cost us what we really want, is, in itself, radical.

It’s not a flashy kind of radical. Living radically in the everyday moments may go unnoticed by most people, but it will not go unnoticed by God. 

[Brianna DeWitt believes in Jesus, surrounding yourself with good people, and that desserts are best when they involve chocolate and peanut butter. You can read more of her musings on her own blog or follow her on Twitter @bwitt722.]

The After Party

[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]

My daughter Lily has been talking about Heaven quite a bit lately. She loves to hear stories from The Jesus Storybook Bible, which is a kids’ Bible that I highly recommend because it doesn’t shy away from the really hard stories of the Bible, and it always points the readers towards Jesus and his unending love. Because there is so much death and destruction in the Bible, Lily and I have been talking about what happens to us after we die. She has fixated upon a few key heavenly images: notably, the idea that no one gets hurt in Heaven (even when they fall off their bikes) and the possibility that we might not need sleep (so we have more time for eating Lucky Charms and riding our scooters outside).

I love that even someone as young and immature as my preschool-aged daughter can understand the perfection that awaits us in Heaven. The prospect of an eternity with God is absolutely enthralling.

Except when it’s not.

Eventually, as we grow older, we learn to fear death (and feel remorseful about the ones who will grieve after us) and our excitement about an eternity spent praising God can wane. Sometimes we even wonder if it will be…boring.

Whenever I’m having a hard time leaving this life behind for the glories of eternity, I think about some of the images used in the Bible. One of the recurring images is that of a huge party, where all of your favorite people are in attendance, where the music is just right, where the food is abundant, where you can spend time face-to-face with God. Imagine being a child at a birthday party, or having audience with your favorite celebrity, or finally receiving an invitation to an event that you’ve always wanted to attend. Imagine the excitement and the spectacle. Although the very best rendering of celebration here on earth certainly pales in comparison to the actual experience of Heaven, it’s one that helps me to grasp the incredible eternity that awaits us: that God himself would invite us to his party and that he would sit across from us and eat with us.

[Kristin vanEyk lives in Kentwood, MI where she attends Encounter Church with her husband Dirk, and two kids, Lily and Colin. Kristin teaches high school English and otherwise passes the time reading, writing, running, and enjoying all that Michigan's West Coast has to offer.]

Lessons in the Wilderness

[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]

Sometimes we end up in places we never thought we’d be. Whether it’s a byproduct of not paying attention when we’re driving or not paying attention to our daily decisions, habits, and attitude, we end up...somewhere. Somewhere we may not want to be or even somewhere that we should be. Though we may not make a conscious decision to stop reading the Bible, or the new habits we pick up don’t seem all that bad at first, over time, we find ourselves in unknown land. Other times, it seems as life just happens to us, and circumstances beyond our control push us into areas we never planned to be.

When the Israelites finally left Egypt, they likely thought that life was going to get better. That was what God had promised, right? A land flowing with milk and honey? Instead, he sends them--in the wrong direction--to the wilderness. For forty years. On a map, their journey looks like this: 

If I were an Israelite, I’d be wondering what on earth God was up to. Didn’t he create the world, so shouldn’t he have a better idea of how to move efficiently across it? Was that really the best way to take to get from Egypt to Canaan? Isn’t there an easier way?

Which, when I think about it, are some of the same questions many of us ask God in our own lives. When we find ourselves where we didn’t want to be, whether through our own doing or circumstances beyond our control, we ask God, “Isn’t there an easier way?” For the Israelites, sure, there were ways to Canaan that look objectively “easier,” but that’s just the way we look at it. God’s map doesn’t look like ours.

In the wilderness, the Israelites had to trust God for their literal daily bread. Each night, God sent manna--just enough for each person for that day, and on the sixth day, enough for the seventh as well. No more, and no less than what they needed. They had to learn patience, as God led them from place to place in what may have felt like a very nonsensical order. And ultimately, they learned about his provision and timing, as he led them into the land of Canaan, the land he had promised all along, when he knew it was time.

When we have the full story available, we can see all of the good things that came from the Israelites’ time in the wilderness. It feels a lot different when we’re the ones in the wilderness though. We may not be able to see any of the good in where we are, and it certainly may not feel like God is doing what is truly best for us. Yet through the wilderness, God shapes us in ways we may not be able to be shaped otherwise. There are some lessons that cannot be learned the easy way. It is in those times that we can take heart in knowing that no matter the kind of wilderness we find ourselves in, and for whatever reason, God promises he will be near.  

(Map is from http://www.bible-history.com/maps/images/exodus_route.jpg. As a note, it’s harder than you’d think to find a map of the Israelites’ journey from a reputable online source, but the map does look to be at least somewhat accurate.)

[Brianna DeWitt believes in Jesus, surrounding yourself with good people, and that desserts are best when they involve chocolate and peanut butter. She loves Christmas and can be found spreading Christmas cheer by singing loud for all to hear. You can read more of her musings on her own blog or follow her on Twitter @bwitt722.]

A Radically Different Judas

[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, Mi. These posts are reflections on Sunday’s message, which can be heard here each week: http://encounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]

I walked away from church on Sunday with a profoundly different understanding of Judas Iscariot. He’s been criminalized and villianized over the centuries since his death, and maybe for good reason, but he’s also been largely misrepresented.  Judas was not an unbeliever who pretended to love and serve Jesus so he could wait for the perfect time to attack. Judas was not a schemer who planned for years to betray Jesus. Judas probably did not even plot the death of Jesus. In fact, Judas probably could not have known that his betrayal would lead to the death of his Lord.

We do know this: Judas tragically underestimated the corruption of those around him.  

When Judas agreed to hand Jesus over to the religious leaders, he did so knowing that the chief priests and teachers of the law had no actual authority or power within Rome to do any real harm to Jesus. They couldn’t orchestrate a legal trial, they couldn’t order imprisonment, and they certainly couldn’t mandate a death by crucifixion. But Rome could do all of those things, and the religious leaders who wanted Jesus dead knew that if they were going to stop the ministry of Jesus, they would need to do it through the Roman government. So when Jesus was arrested and brought before Pilate, a Roman governor, Judas realized immediately but too late that he had been used in a much larger plot to murder Jesus.

It is the chief priests and the teachers of the law who actually orchestrate the death of the Messiah. It is they who bribe Judas to bring Jesus to them at night, in secret, to be arrested, and it is they who bring him before the Roman officials and accuse him of treason. Pilate can find no fault with Jesus, so he sends Jesus before Herod who also finds no fault with Jesus, and so Jesus is sent back before Pilate. Pilate says several times that he intends only to punish Jesus and then release him, but the crowd demands the release of a murderer, and the death of Jesus in the murderer’s place. It is the crowd who actually orchestrates the death of the Messiah.

How all of this gets pinned so singularly on Judas is outrageous, really. And Judas is often further criticized for taking his own life; in fact, Judas appears to be one of very few people who realized in the midst of the chaos what was actually happening. They are murdering the very Son of God.

Judas loved Jesus. But he was unable to divorce his own agenda from the reality of Jesus’ ministry. Judas wanted Jesus to be the militant savior that the people had been expecting for so many generations. Judas wanted Jesus to overthrow the Romans, to establish the dominance of the nation of Israel, and perhaps he even wanted those Romans to pay for what they had done. But one can hardly blame Judas; that’s the way nations had warred, conquered one another, and maintained control over one another for as long as Judas or any Israelite could remember. They could remember the Assyrians. The Babylonians. The Romans. And now it was to be the time of the Israelites. Many, many believers held this view of Jesus; only Judas had the foolish courage to act on his own ambition rather than to wait at the feet of Jesus.

In retrospect, it’s so obvious that Jesus made it clear that his kingdom was not one of war and hatred and flesh, but one of peace and love and eternity. But Judas would not listen and it cost him and his savior their lives. So many Christians today continue to demand a militant Christ—one who will condone Christians for their systematic and militant hatred of those who hold different values and beliefs. But the ministry of Jesus was one of peace and love and eternity.

Is Judas a sympathetic figure? Not exactly. Not any more than a militant Christian today is a sympathetic figure. Judas’ volunteerism for the religious leaders made possible the eventual crucifixion of Jesus Christ. And we continue to destroy the words of Christ with our own hateful actions every day.

But of course, what makes all the difference is this: what the religious leaders and teachers of the law intended for evil, God used to redeem all of creation.

What it comes down to is this: God works through us and God works in spite of us. We don’t always follow Jesus well, but still the work of God continues all around us. And when we do finally put our own agendas aside and align our wills with God’s, then we have the opportunity to participate in the renewing of this world all around us. This, of course, is nothing short of incredible. God will not be deterred, but he will let us join in his kingdom work.

[Kristin vanEyk lives in Kentwood, Mi where she attends Encounter Church with her husband Dirk, and her two kids, Lily and Colin. Kristin teaches high school English and is slowly learning what it means to follow Jesus.]

Look Like Jesus

[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]


A couple of years ago as I browsed in a store, I overheard two women who were standing a few feet away from me. The store had cards, knickknacks, and a wall full of books, mostly on spirituality and wellness. As one of the women looked through a book, she paused and made a comment.

The other woman replied, “I love Jesus, but I hate Christians.” “Yea, they’re terrible,” the first woman agreed. They both chuckled a bit and continued on with their browsing, soon moving to another section of the store.

Though I didn’t speak to them, I wondered what the stories were that led to these strong feelings about Christians. Was it the headlines about churches protesting funerals or comments by politicians they didn’t agree with? Was it specific moments, with words spoken in spite or malice by people they thought loved them? Or was it a combination of things, too varied to be counted, that led to sweeping statements about all people who identify themselves by that label of “Christian”?

While I’ll never know the reasons behind that specific instance of “I love Jesus, but I hate Christians,” it’s not an uncommon statement. It’s even a somewhat understandable one--I know I can certainly think of Christians I don’t really want to be associated with--or, more humblingly, times in my own life when I did not live up to the loving, merciful, grace-filledness that label should entail.

Yet, despite our inability to do it perfectly, Jesus has left us here on the earth as bearers of his name. Richard and Reneé Stearns wrote, “You just might be the only Jesus they will ever see.” Which begs the question: What kind of Jesus will people see when they look at our lives? Would they see the type of person who makes them say, “I hate Christians,” or the type of person who makes them curious about who this Jesus guy is and what a relationship with him could look like?

We don’t have to do too much guesswork to figure out what kind of things make us more like Jesus. In John 13:14-15, Jesus tells his disciples, “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” It doesn’t meant we have to literally walk up to strangers and start washing their feet, but this humble, grace and love-filled, servant-like action--this is what Jesus does. This is what it looks like to be a follower of him, to imitate him so closely that when others look at us they see Jesus.

What could our homes, our workplaces, our schools, our communities, our world look like if everyone who professed to follow Jesus truly lived that out? Not in some fake, superficial way, but in a way that bore the inner transformation of hearts being conformed to Christ’s?

Maybe we’d hear people say, “I love Jesus...and his followers aren’t too bad either.”



*Note: A version of the story told here originally appeared in the post “I Love Jesus, But I Hate You,” published 5.19.2013 on Brianna’s personal blog.

[Brianna DeWitt believes in Jesus, surrounding yourself with good people, and that desserts are best when they involve chocolate and peanut butter. She loves Christmas and can be found spreading Christmas cheer by singing loud for all to hear. You can read more of her musings on her own blog or follow her on Twitter @bwitt722.]