A New Lens

What Could Happen if You Saw Every Person, Every Meeting, and Every Day as an Invitation to Discipleship?

I was up in the mountains recently, jogging along a path that twisted through the shifting elevations. The fog was thick—so thick that I couldn't see more than a few feet ahead of me. My pace slowed. I was cautious, overly aware of my surroundings, worried that others wouldn’t be able to see me either. My usual stride felt hesitant, unnatural. I wasn’t running the way I was used to…and I was quickly losing the joy that usually accompanied my early morning routine.

Can I tell you something? This is exactly how I’ve been feeling in ministry lately. Not in my relationship with Jesus, mind you. My heart still burns with ever-growing intensity for him, and I yearn for his Kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven. And not with the people I get to co-labor alongside, as they are precious treasures to my heart. It’s in the practical outworking of my daily responsibilities that I have felt in a fog. Uncertain. Hesitant. Maybe even fearful as I’ve wondered exactly what my lane is and how to run in it faithfully to the finish line.

A Season of Shifting Roles

Six years ago, our church went through a major rebirth. We maintained the same pastoral staff, but all of our roles shifted overnight. I transitioned from overseeing our discipleship ministry to serving as the lead visionary and communicator for a church family moving into greater fivefold expression. It was beautiful. Difficult. And often heart-wrenching.

We all stumbled gracefully forward as we learned our new roles while trying not to step on each other’s toes. I felt the tension of championing diverse expressions of glory while also seeking to make definitive progress in the places God was calling us. It has been, without question, the most amazing and painful trek of my life. Many of my co-pastors would quickly say the same.

I didn’t realize how much this affected me and how I ran long after the dust had settled. In this recent “fog,” I suddenly realized how much energy I had been pouring into trying to keep people in unity, working not to offend or hurt others, and fielding the confusing mixture of breakthroughs and setbacks that come with leading a family. I realized that, at times, I felt more like a spiritual HR director than a disciple-maker. My days were spent with people who loved Jesus—some of the most incredible people on earth. But what about those who wouldn’t set foot inside our church? What about my neighbors? The ever-growing needs in our city? The people I rush past on my way to meetings? Were they merely left to receive my sporadic gaze?

What’s more, I began to wonder aloud (and still do) if everything I’d been taught that is necessary for the local church to function was truly necessary…or even beneficial for mobilizing and igniting people to joyously live out the Great Commission. Could it be that some of our most popular cultural ‘church’ commitments — the ones holding great sway over our time and energy — were actually hindering the simple Gospel? Was my highest calling really to organize and refine church systems? Was this truly my best "yes" to the Lord? 

For the first time in my life, I heard myself ask God aloud, "When it’s all said and done, will it be worth it?” I wasn't asking if loving Jesus and selling the field to follow him would be worth it—there’s no question there! But how I chose to invest my time, talent, treasures, and touch—was it aligned with what Jesus made me for? Would that be worth it?

Not a Resignation—A Realignment

Before I go any further, let me clarify a couple of things. First, this isn’t a resignation letter, either literally or figuratively. As you’ll see in a moment, Jesus met me in the fog, elevating my perspective to see above it. I’m running again! Second, this isn’t a critique of the local church. I know that’s trendy these days, but I believe with every fiber of my being that Jesus is building his church—his "assembled ones." Yes, we’re broken. But we’re also beautiful. And as long as he tarries, I choose to assemble, to be accountable to tangible brothers and sisters, and to belong to each other, even as we long for the day we’ll stand as a pure, spotless Bride.

What I am saying is that the way I have been leading within the church is shifting. And it needs to. Because Jesus has been calling us back to something much simpler.

Flipping the Script

Not long ago, I was on a prayer walk, wrestling with all of these thoughts. And I felt the Lord whisper:

"If you don’t like what you’re doing, then flip it. Re-align it into whatever it takes for you to make disciples and lead others to make disciples."

The next day, He went further:

"What would happen if you began to see everything as discipleship? Every conversation. Every interaction. What if you stopped and asked, ‘God, how are you inviting me to join this beloved person right now in moving from unbelief to belief? From being stuck to courageous obedience?'"

That person who asks to meet because they’re discouraged in their marriage? That’s discipleship.

The hours of study in God’s Word to preach a message of hope that echoes the truth and tone of heaven? That’s discipleship. (Side note: God is adjusting how much time he’s letting me spend here so I can freely invest more time with faces.)

Writing blogs that are bearing fruit, but I know many people will be too busy to even read? That’s discipleship.

My kids needing help with a project or learning a life skill? Discipleship.

Having to stop what I’m doing to correct or re-direct something I’ve spoken into a thousand times already? You guessed it: discipleship (for me and for them)!

A game night with friends and neighbors, choosing the slow pace of relational proximity and warmth that alone breeds trust and depth? That’s discipleship. 

The strategy meetings that can get tedious, but help us lead with clarity and direction? Discipleship.

Taking the time to sit with the person who is offended or disgruntled (and who says things that are unfair, short-sighted, or immature) but is willing to keep taking the next step toward growth? Discipleship.

And here’s the kicker: if I can’t see any part in something I’m doing as discipleship, then I either need to re-align it or stop doing it altogether. Stop and let that one sink in.

"If I can’t see any part in something I’m doing as discipleship, then I either need to re-align it or stop doing it altogether."

Our One Call

Jesus gave us one command: "Make disciples of all nations." He didn’t say, "Lead excellent ministries," "Keep people happy," "Grow a crowd," or "Say yes to everything people expect of you." He said, "Make disciples."

That means that everything we give our heart and our time to should, in some way, be leading ourselves and others to move toward Jesus — from unbelief to belief and from being stuck into courageous obedience. Everything we do is meant to be a thread weaving itself into a beautiful tapestry of helping one another be conformed into the image of God and then seeking other friends to be interwoven into the fabric of what God is doing on the earth. 

If anything you’re doing isn’t this, bravely choose to re-align it. If there’s no path for you to step into it that is discipleship, maybe that’s your indicator that it’s time to lay it down. The words of Paul are reverberating loudly in the corridors of my soul these days:

“At one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light…look very carefully then, at how you walk, making the most of your time, because the days are evil.” Ephesians 5:8,15-16

I don’t have any more time for running in a fog. And I’m all out of motivation to stay bound to the hesitations of what might be coming up around the bend. My God charted this course, and he is good. My only job is to give him my unrestrained “yes” and to enter every relationship, every conversation, and every moment with renewed expectancy to see it all as discipleship.

Is there anyone who’s willing to lace up and run this road with me?