Discipleship is easy, if you do it wrong

"And then from the moment they met Jesus, they did exactly as he expected and never failed him..."

I think that's the way most of us in the clergy expect the gospels to end. Jesus calls his disciples, they meet him and they walk off into the sunset because the disciples have been instantly changed into little Christs.

But somehow, this is never the way it works in my church. And it wasn't the way it worked for me. It sure would be nice if it did.

I could just point my finger and, bam!, she no longer worries, he no longer offers excuses, she immediately follows through more and he suddenly cares about his spiritual life.

But, for some reason, it never works out that way.

I think we have settled for an already assembled version of spirituality when the bible teaches a certain level of "do it yourself." Most of us pull into church, order an increase in discipleship, and then drive off, ready to reap the rewards. But the way I see discipleship in the bible, it took the best (Jesus, in case you didn't know) 3+ years to form these vapid fishermen into some semblance of a church.

And most of the time I expect serious improvement next week.

The real tragedy of this line of thinking, is that most often it comes from a clergy who think we are already "spiritually formed." But the fact is, true discipleship demands that both the one being discipled and the one doing the discipling are constantly in motion, constantly examining their own relationship to God, constantly seeking more in themselves.

Hopefully I can remember these two things better, 1. I need to change as much as anyone else, 2. Real change takes days, weeks, months, even years.

Going home

It was really easy to look at the last ten years objectively and know that they had, in fact, happened. I attended Howard Payne for four of them, Truett seminary for another three, and lived in Colorado for three. But when I really thought about it, it just didn't seem to make sense that I had been away from Classen for more years than I actually attended it.

Classen is a magnet school, ranging from grade six to twelve. So, for those seven years, I was surrounded by almost the same supporting cast (forgive the self-centeredness... we are all the star of our own show). I attended the same church and had the same friends. Then, one day it was over. I moved to Texas, learned some stuff, married a wonderful lady, and then moved to Colorado. Those years would always be a part of me, but they were no longer most of me.

The thing that I wasn't really aware of, was that there was really one person who had always been my biggest support.While I was busy with papers and girls and friends, one person was the light in my life regardless of how selfish I truly was. She was there every time I drove the five or six hours it took to make it home, she was there when I needed to wash clothes, and she was there when I didn't want to stay at my mom's house anymore. My grandma was the rock in my life.

Then, one day I got a call. And she was gone.

It's only been a couple months now, and it it still feels a bit surreal. It feels like the next time I go home, she will be there. She will exclaim "OOOHHHH!" as I walk in the door. She will repeat how good it is to see me, and she will walk in front of the TV on a critical fourth down or just as I am attacked in a video game.

But the truth is, I know she won't.

In the same way that I can't go back to the simplicity of just being part of Classen and Northwest, I can't go back to the days when she was there to lift me up. She won't be coming back.

I went to Oklahoma City for my ten year reunion, and for the first time she wasn't there. She didn't tell me how proud she was of me, or that she wanted an applesauce donut. In reality, it was difficult for me to appreciate her when I had her, but now that she's gone it's my hope that I still can make her proud.

Rest in peace, Roberta, you are missed.