Gospel Centered Discipleship

“First responders should arrive soon on the scene. Be sure to clear the area.” A quick pound sounded and the first officer walked through our front door. His heavy black boots crossed the hardwood and quietly sank into the carpet, where our six-year-old daughter lay. The dusky blue tone on her lips brightened as if a pale pink lipstick was applied across her still mouth. One giant inhale and her breathing rhythms began to fill the stillness. I began describing the situation to the officer—a rote, scripted response I tuck away for these exact moments.Our second-born daughter Blair lives with a rare, genetic mutation causing frequent, uncontrollable seizures. “Mommy, do you have to call the ambulance?” jumps quickly and calmly off her sister’s tongue.The Lord recently began revealing his desire to use the many weaknesses and needs of this unexpected life affected by severe disability to put his power on full display. My heart often mutters prayers my mind could not have imagined before—and on this night, amidst a severe seizure and a momentary lifeless body, the Spirit whispered a hope that these first responders might experience something unique upon entering our home—a refuge where the Holy Spirit shelters some of life’s darkest moments. A hope for the words of the Heidelberg Catechism painted above our mantle to bring peace into a chaotic situation: “What is your only comfort in life and death? That I am not my own, but belong with body and soul, both in life and death, to my faithful savior Jesus Christ…without the will of my Heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head…” The Lord continues to open my eyes to his desire to use Blair’s uniquely dependent life to welcome others into our need, often into our home, and into an experience of his saving grace. He handcrafts each opportunity for us to share the hope we have in Jesus Christ. On this broken side of Heaven, so often His power and peace shine brightly amidst the backdrop of fear, grief and sadness. I’m slowly learning to view my need as a beautiful way to invite others to stand in awe of the one true God. Godly CompanionshipThe ambulance chauffeured Blair to the local children’s hospital where she underwent further testing. A dear friend reached out, knowing the situation, and asked for specific ways to pray. Reluctantly, I shared with her my temptation toward loneliness throughout prolonged hospital stays—consecutive days and nights spent in one tiny hospital room feel quiet, empty, and exhausting. Against my desire to exude strength and resilience, I chose to welcome her into my need for connection during these times. Over the course of ten days bedside with Blair, this friend texted me most mornings to check in. We FaceTimed nearly twice every day. She pushed into my need for friendship and consequently, saw firsthand how God answered her many prayers for Blair’s health. With each phone call, I shared with her the daily events, and she witnessed the Lord's faithfulness. She had a front-row seat to the miraculous power of Jesus Christ displayed through all the ways he orchestrated care for our daughter. As I reflect on the ways in which this friend experienced God’s power in the valleys of my need, I see this pattern in other spheres of relationship. When Blair’s epilepsy deemed her unsafe to continue her hippotherapy (therapy on horseback), we sought out a new weekly Occupational Therapist to supplement. These therapy sessions quickly became fertile ground for deep conversation about our lives, creating room for the Gospel and further spiritual dialogue. Blair’s therapist accepted an invitation to our Christmas Eve service at church and now often attends worship with our family on Sunday mornings. God continues to use our need to put his initiating power and love on full display. As my heart softens toward accepting the care of those around me, the Lord beautifully blesses my need in unexpected ways. A few years ago, with slight hesitation, we made the choice for Blair to attend the kids’ ministry during the Sunday morning service. We packed her diaper bag with spare clothes and rescue medications, and hoped for her time spent with peers to prove meaningful. The first few weeks felt odd—the lack of responsibility for one hour on Sunday morning and the ability to worship with lessened distraction; a chance for her to join her sister and peers in Bible lessons and music. However, it didn’t last long. Blair’s seizures intensified a few weeks later and we felt it best for her to rejoin us upstairs. A Teenage GiftMeet Emma. Emma is fifteen and chooses to serve many Sunday mornings in kid’s ministry. Emma’s mom mentioned to us how much Emma missed having Blair in her classroom, to which I reacted with an invitation for Emma to come into our home to spend time with Blair. (An invitation I’ve always feared offering, afraid of creating an uncomfortable silence or lack of response.)To my surprise, we soon arranged a date and time. When Emma arrived, Blair was lying on her blanket, enjoying her favorite book. Emma warmly sat down beside her. For the next hour, I fought back tears of joy as this precious teenager engaged with my daughter. She talked to her and rubbed her brittle brunette curls. As I folded laundry nearby, I heard Blair vocalize in response to Emma’s voice and touch. In return, she experienced Blair’s affection and love in the unique ways of her design—a giggle and a squeeze of her hand. As we receive blessings through Emma’s friendship with Blair, I believe she experiences the beautiful love and joy of Blair’s creator. As Jesus began his ministry, we find multiple references in the accounts of his closest followers to Jesus’ robe, specifically its hem. He welcomed the crowds close enough to press into the fabrics draped around his body. These gospels provide many testimonies of lives physically restored and spiritually transformed through a gentle touch. (Matt. 9:20-22;14:34-36, Mark 6:54-56, Luke 8:44-48)How do we typically respond when others press in this close? Do we welcome their hand, or do we back away in self-sufficient pride? Instead of fearing added burden to others, how might our lives (and theirs) be transformed if we viewed our need as an opportunity to witness the healing power of our Savior? How might God delight to use the very weakness we fight to conceal, to invite others to experience his spiritual healing?When the crowd closed in on Jesus in Matthew 8:23-27, he ordered his disciples to join him aboard a boat to the other side of the sea. In need of a fisherman’s boat, he got in and fell asleep. As he entered his sleepy state, his disciples became panic-stricken—a violent storm arose. As the boat lurched and the waves crashed, the disciples woke Jesus, yelling, “Lord, save us! We’re going to die!” What happened next gave them a unique glimpse of who Jesus truly was. The winds and waves suddenly grew calm. “What kind of man is this?” they questioned (Matt. 8:27 CSB). Only God could hold such authority over creation.  In need of some rest, Jesus chose to put his power on full display for a small audience of common men. What might others learn of God’s power when we allow them in our weakness and need? Beyond the MirageI recently began a search for a nurse to come into our home to help care for Blair when she’s not in school. Up until this point, I prided myself on fully managing my daughter’s care. She is completely dependent, both physically and cognitively, in everything from tube feeding, diapering, dressing, bathing, and transporting. I flaunted my ability to care for her every need (and the needs of her three sisters) without anyone’s help. As I recently created the long list of eighteen specialists my daughter sees on a regular basis, I clearly saw my autonomous gloating as merely a mirage. Over the past few months, the Lord has softened my heart toward the idea of inviting someone into our home, and more poignantly, into my need. The Spirit humbled my heart through books like The Hospitality of Need by Kevan Chandler and Tommy Shelton, which provided me a new lens to study scripture.God graciously granted me the opportunity to witness the practical benefits of nursing help in other families affected by disability. I am learning that my home is a powerful display of the Gospel! It is a beautiful picture of his grace functioning in my mundane. The raw, sinful parenting interactions followed by repentance and forgiveness. The fight for patience and joy despite ongoing seizures and uncontrolled toddler emotions. My prayer remains for those who enter our home: To experience the transforming power of Christ and find spiritual healing in the Gospel through my weakness and need. What might it look like for you to welcome others into your need? For me, it looks like accepting meals for my family while we commute to the hospital. It looks like asking others to help watch my other children so I can keep up with all of Blair’s doctor appointments. It looks like pushing aside my pride and seeking nursing services when Blair’s care feels overwhelming. This may look very different for you. Maybe it looks like asking for someone to join you in your loneliness. Maybe you could benefit from a ride to and from the airport to save on parking fees and stress. Perhaps you aren’t able to make it to the store, and you’d love for a neighbor to provide a single egg for the cake you have half prepared. Let us be faithful to use these small connection points to sow seeds for the gospel. Allow God’s transforming work to be displayed through your need. However dire or seemingly insignificant, let us consider whether it may ultimately point another to Christ—the true source and supplier of all our needs. 

The pre-dawn stillness is sacred to me. The quietness of the morning begs for an embrace. The sun has not peeked over the horizon just yet, but miles beckon my presence. As I slip on my running shoes and loosen my legs, I try to prepare mentally. Whether my run is long or short, hard or easy, there is no need for headphones. I’ve got plenty to keep my mind occupied and plenty to learn. Running is a solemn activity for me; not because it is hallowed, but because it is instructive. As a regular practice, I run every morning but Sunday. Running provides a daily routine in a vocation that is anything but routine. It’s not a substitute for time in the Word and prayer, but when done right, it is a spiritually beneficial practice. Walking might work just as well, but running seems to accelerate the process for me. It usually takes me a mile or two to warm up, but it doesn’t take me long to get into the zone. Most of the time, I am scarcely focused on the distance ahead; my mind is set on the day before me. The discernment needed to carefully navigate the dangerous waters of cultivating souls is a sobering call. To paraphrase Gandalf, if one strays but a little, the consequences are severe. Each step of the run serves as a petition to the heart to stay focused. My runs are quiet. That’s the way I like it. The seclusion provides the time needed to think through ministerial issues. There is much correlation between running and the pastorate; both require dedication, focus, solitude, and discipline. If one pays attention, running may teach the pastor a thing or two. There is a reason Paul says, “I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified” (1 Cor. 9:27). Paul shows that spiritual health is intimately tied to bodily self-control. Running is an activity that brings to bear the interconnectedness of the body and soul. One cannot segment the body and soul into separate nonoverlapping components of a human being. There is a transitive nature between the two that has an impact on one’s spiritual life.The pastor’s job is to care for souls. Physical activities, like running, cultivate in a pastor an unmediated knowledge of the depth and beauty of the whole person. Physical exercise may not be sacred, but the body is. The discipline of the body in worship is a tool for the sanctification of the soul. In part, a pastor leads a congregation to present their bodies as “living sacrifice[s], holy and acceptable to God” (Romans 12:1). Of course, running is not required to be spiritually healthy or to have a healthy ministry, but it can be a helpful supplement—an expositional analogy for all who travel the ministerial road. Running always involves setbacks and injuries, and plenty of frustrations and hurdles. Yet, those miles won’t run themselves. To complete the run, I must put my shoes on and put one foot in front of the other. The impact of one run may not be immediately evident, but it has an important future effect. There are days I want to quit; days I wonder if it’s even worth it; days I wonder if I’m accomplishing anything. But I keep running. Many times, the persistence comes from sheer determination to accomplish something hard. It is something like a call, though far less esoteric. Perhaps not a charming justification, but it is honest. When writing about endurance athletes, Alex Hutchinson states, “The essence of pushing to your limits in endurance sports is learning to override that instinct so that you can hold your finger a little closer to the flame…” (Endure, 68). The bifurcation between athletic improvement and bodily injury is an unseen line between pain and agony. Only a hardy fool is willing to venture far. Yet only the dogged know their limits.The ministerial parallels are abundant. Well, at least, my pastorate has been similar. There have been setbacks, frustrations, hurdles, and obstacles. There were days I wanted to quit; days I wondered if I was having any impact. I don’t think, however, that my perseverance has anything to do with a noble tenacity. Sure, I fervently believe God has called me to the pastorate; thus, I continue out of divine obligation. In an age in which loyalty is seen as sublime obsolescence, I want to finish the race well. But there is also a part of me that pushes forward simply because it is hard. Paul calls himself a “fool for Christ’s sake” (1 Cor. 4:10). If nothing else, running helps me see that not all foolishness is buffoonery. The ministry is an honorable, special vocation, but we are also jesters in the court of our Lord. Pastors are servants of Christ, always ready to follow where he leads—however ludicrous it may seem. The call does not become void when things are difficult; rather, it is in the hardships of ministry when the call becomes a tether. As tired as my ministry legs may be, the call presses me forward—maybe at a slower pace, but I don’t stop. This ministerial drive isn’t due to an overinflated sense of importance, but rather to a humble obeisance to the will of our Lord.The need for faithful dedication is most abundant in a pastor’s preaching and teaching ministry. A common pastoral concern is to wonder if the lessons being preached are actually taking root within the hearts and minds of the people in the pews. Though I have only been in pastoral ministry for around twenty years, one lesson I have learned is the importance of being a faithful witness in the pulpit. God’s Word will never return void (Isa. 55:11), and a consistent witness to biblical truth year after year will never be a waste of time. The impact may not be immediately evident, but it is eternally fruitful. One message may have considerable influence upon the congregation, but souls are discipled through a faithful, continuous exposition of the Word of God. Perhaps I’m being a bit melodramatic. I’ve been known to label the ordinary as sacred. I’m not saying that running is a sacrament, but it can be a teacher for the pastor. Many have heard Olympic runner Eric Liddell's famous statement: “God made me fast. When I run, I feel His pleasure.” I can’t say I’ve ever felt the pleasure of God while running, but when the discipline and dedication required in running are juxtaposed with the life of a pastor, there are some lessons to be learned. The tutelage may not manifest itself in propositions and syllogisms, but it can help mold and shape one’s pastoral life. The theologian, Kevin Vanhoozer, writes that the pastorate “is a vocation that helps cultivate people’s lives…” (The Pastor as Public Theologian, 104). Cultivating lives isn’t a cushy desk job. It is a calling that demands attention, persistence, sweat, and tears. The very practice of dedicated discipleship requires a willingness to kneel before people with messy lives and clean their dirty feet. That’s not to say that ministry is harder than any other job; it isn’t. Nor am I inferring that ministry doesn’t have wins or triumphs; it does. The calling, however, upon the minister requires a unique grace-filled disposition and drive. One that involves an empowerment from the Holy Spirit, no doubt, but also one that calls for earnest adherence. While the runner develops the body to achieve a goal set before him, the pastor disciplines the mind that he may achieve the task given. As the saying goes, pastors are spiritual heart surgeons. Such a practice calls for great care and focus. One blunder can have devastating results. As the runner seeks to avoid any misstep, the pastor must perpetually submit before the providence of the divine. Being attuned to one’s limits and abilities, knowing when to push harder and when to rest, is essential for a productive runner and pastor.Presumably, many activities in life can offer the same insights and discipline. Running is one that has been helpful to me. Given that the “earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof” (Ps. 24:1), it isn’t surprising he would use everyday activities to foster holiness in one’s vocation and life. Perhaps the principal truth to glean is that one should look for the hand of God in all things. His providential guidance is as much in the mundane and ordinary as it is in the spectacular. As ironic as it may seem, running allows me a pause to ferret through the minutiae of caring for souls. It is an act that maps onto my pastorate and life in ways that are formative to both body and soul. Running may not be for you. That’s okay. It isn’t for everyone. In fact, it may not be for most. But make no mistake, it can be a means to improving one’s ministry.

I still remember the morning my grandma laid her hands on me, convinced this was the day I’d speak in tongues. Her eyes, icy blue and alight with faith, met mine. I was certain she’d searched out my dubiety, found out the times I’d tried out different gifts of the Spirit without success. I followed her instructions and tried to keep pace with her prayer but couldn’t. With a final “amen” she left convinced that I was catching on. I left knowing that I wasn’t. I left with intense longing, desiring the Holy Spirit to choose me as a recipient—and wondering why He didn’t.For many years, the Holy Spirit was incredibly mysterious. He was defined primarily by the more supernatural gifts and how his presence felt in my own life. He was understood mainly by that moment in Acts 2, when the Spirit descended at Pentecost. But oh, how I longed for the Holy Spirit’s presence to descend on me as it did on Jesus’ followers at Pentecost.While Acts speaks of the Spirit’s coming in a new and special way, the rest of the New Testament speaks of the Spirit’s presence as a daily reality in the believer’s life. The Spirit’s presence is not a power to conjure, invoke, or enter. We don’t lose the Spirit’s presence or receive more than the Christian beside us. As Paul wrote definitively, “Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him” (Rom. 8:9). So, the reverse is also true: Those who belong to Christ receive his Spirit (John 3:34).I may not have heard the rushing wind, or beheld the tongues of fire, or been given the gift of speaking in tongues. But when I trusted in Christ, the Spirit of God indwelt me just as He did those early disciples. The best part? This indwelling wasn’t only for me—this indwelling made my life a living testimony to Christ’s death and resurrection.The Spirit Applies Christ’s TeachingBefore Jesus ascended into heaven, he gave his followers a promise, punctuated by his frequent teaching: “You will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now” (Acts 1:5). I wonder if they remembered Jesus’ teaching on the Holy Spirit during these days of waiting? Maybe they recalled Jesus’ promise that the Father would provide the Holy Spirit to all who asked (Luke 11:13). Or maybe Jesus’ promise that the Holy Spirit was coming was enough. The anticipation was palpable, evident in the disciples’ fervent prayer and obedient waiting (Acts 1:12).Soon, the day arrived, and the Holy Spirit descended. “They were all filled with the Holy Spirit,” and the crowds heard about the mighty works of God in their own languages (Acts 2:4a, 2:6). Some scoff. Others lean in. But what we see is that the Holy Spirit’s indwelling is an inward work that reaches outward.The crowds are brought close—so close that God’s Spirit rests on them and moves among them. The Holy Spirit makes the message of Christ resurrected comprehensible and convincing. Through the power of the Spirit, thousands are cut to the heart, believe, and are baptized (Acts 2:37; 41).In this moment, the Holy Spirit did what mere words could not—He applied the gospel’s message like a balm to the souls of the gospel’s hearers. He opened blinded eyes and made the foolish wise. In a moment when everyone could have easily believed that these Christians were out of their minds, some saw and believed. God’s Spirit accomplished this work in their hearts and minds.The Holy Spirit’s indwelling of believers was never meant to be kept secret. It wasn’t only for their personal benefit. Immediately, God gathered a crowd of the spiritually dead and brought them back to life, through the power of the Holy Spirit in his people.The Spirit Applies the Father’s WisdomIt’s human nature: we long to say the right thing at the right time, yet we fear we might say something wrong. A friend recently lost her dad and will celebrate her first Father’s Day without him—what do we say? A Bible study member shares her struggle with a deeply-rooted sin during prayer time—how do we respond? An unbelieving neighbor shares that he’s had a tough week—when is the right time to share the hope of the gospel?The discomfort of uncertainty and fear should remind us that we may be weak, but we serve a strong God. We may struggle to know rightly, but God knows all. We may be limited, but God is not. Scripture reminds us that the Holy Spirit helps even when we don’t have the words: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words” (Rom. 8:26). What a comfort that we don’t always have to know the exact right thing to say. We don’t even need to know the exact right thing to pray! Yet we go to God in prayer, dependent on the Holy Spirit to help us in our weakness.Imagine what might happen if we paused to pray personally or out loud when we were unsure what to say. Imagine how our dependence on the Lord and His Spirit might deepen and strengthen. Imagine how our churches and neighbors might grow in dependence on the Lord!The Spirit Applies God’s ComfortWhen Jesus spoke to his disciples about the day he would leave them, I’m sure they were disappointed. Yet he also assured them that the Holy Spirit would come: “But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you” (John 14:26).The word for the Holy Spirit used here is “paraclete”. It means “advocate, helper, comforter, counselor.” The Holy Spirit would comfort the disciples in Acts, when he descended at Pentecost. Doesn’t he do the same for us?Too often, I think of this comfort as a one-time thing. In one prayer, no matter what I’m going through, the Holy Spirit will comfort me, and I won’t feel pain anymore. How disappointing it is when this doesn’t come true! Yet the truth of this comfort is better than my wishful thinking. The Holy Spirit is a continual comforter. We can return again and again to the well of his comfort.            In a significant and special way, God’s Spirit—his very presence—resides in all of his people (Acts 2:17). Like my grandma and me, we may not all have the same gifts or experiences, but as Christians we have the indwelling Spirit in common.What a gift!