[Part 2 of a blog adaptation of Sunday’s message at The District Church: “Come Follow Me”]
The second part of our recently-started series title is, “Marks of a Disciple.”
The Greek word for disciple in the New Testament is mathetes, which means learner. In Jesus’ day, Jewish disciples would follow their master around, learning how to be like him—how to talk, how to act, how to pray—and eventually, the idea was, disciples would become masters with their own disciples. But Jesus changed that up a little bit; he said, “You are not to be called master, or rabbi, for you have one teacher—me—and you are all students.”
Eugene Peterson, who wrote The Message paraphrase, said this:
Disciple (mathetes) says we are people who spend our lives apprenticed to our master, Jesus Christ. We are in a growing-learning relationship, always. A disciple is a learner, but not in the academic setting of a schoolroom, rather at the work site of a craftsman. We do not acquire information about God but skills in faith. (A Long Obedience, 13)
Bob Goff, who wrote a tremendous book last year called Love Does, put it this way:
“I used to think I could learn about Jesus by studying him, but now I know Jesus doesn’t want stalkers” (197).
I love that—it’s not just about learning what he said or what he did; it’s not some dry study of principles of leadership from two thousand years ago, because I mean, from one perspective, the guy only lasted three years, he irritated all the wrong people, and he ended up dead.
Fortunately, he didn’t stay dead, though; and now we don’t just get to learn about him, we get to do life with him. And that’s what discipleship is about: relationship, not perfection.
In Matthew 5:13-16, Jesus addresses his disciples—his learners, his followers—and he says to them:
You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.
We all know that salt adds flavor, right? So one way of looking at this is that we’re called to add flavor or zest to the world. Or you know that salt was used as a preservative in the days before refrigeration, so another way of reading this passage is that we’re supposed to prevent the rot of sin. But in the Old Testament—in Exodus and Numbers—we’re told that salt was also used in temple sacrifices as a symbol of the permanence of God’s covenant with his people.
So another reading of this passage is this: “You are a reminder to the world of who God is, you are a reminder of the relationship God desires with humanity.” And so, if you lose your saltiness, if you stop being that image of God here on earth, you’ve lost your purpose, you are not as you were made to be.
Is it any wonder we have a world full of unfulfilled people when so many are looking for meaning and purpose in the next thing–the next job, the next pay raise, the next relationship, the next marriage, the next campaign, the next president, the next child, the next home or car or gadget–rather than in the One they were made for?
When Matthew writes, “You are the light of the world,” he’s harking back to what God said to Israel through the prophet Isaiah:
I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations. … I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach the ends of the earth.
You have a purpose and that is to be representatives of God here on earth. You have a calling and that is to be images of God here on earth. You were made for something and that is to live with God here on earth, to be the body of Christ in the world.
Dallas Willard wrote about this passage in Matthew:
Jesus, surely with some humor, remarked that a city set on a hill cannot be hid (Matt. 5:14). I would not like to have the task of hiding Jerusalem, or Paris, or even Baltimore. The Gospel stories tell us how hard Jesus and his friends tried to avoid crowds and how badly they failed. Quite candidly, if it is possible for our faith and works to be hidden, perhaps that only shows they are of a kind that should be hidden. We might, in that case, think about directing our efforts toward the cultivation of a faith that is impossible to hide (Mark 7:24). (The Spirit of the Disciplines, 173)
A faith that is impossible to hide. We want to live our lives in such a way and steward our influence in such a way that our allegiance is impossible to hide.
- “How can you be so patient when everyone else is so frustrated?” Well, I believe in a God who is sovereign over all and so I trust him and hold my own agenda loosely.
- “How can you give up your high-paying job to help the underserved?” Well, I believe in a God who provides for everything I need and I trust that as I follow where he calls.
- “How can you forgive that person when he treated you so badly?” Well, I believe in a God who forgave me of infinitely more and asks me to do the same for others.
- “How can you love this person who hates you?” Well, I believe in a God who loved me even before I knew him, and who loved those who hated him, and who asks me to do the same.
- “How can you hold onto that antiquated view of sex before marriage?” Well, I believe that sex is good, that it is such a unique expression of closeness and intimacy that that’s why God designed it for the safety of a committed, covenant relationship, because it is so precious.
- “How can you give up a portion of your income to the church, some random group of people, many of whom you don’t even know?” Well, I believe in a God who asks for everything, actually, but it’s a reminder that all I have has been entrusted to me and I want to throw in my lot with this group of people; I want to say, I’m with these folks as we follow Jesus together, as we learn together, as we are disciples together.
“So let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine …
The mission of The District Church is, “To make disciples of Jesus in the District who are committed to living out their God-given mission in life.” That’s what we’re about here: making disciples, helping people follow Jesus, becoming ourselves more like Jesus.
And we try to do that through small groups, through service and outreach in the community, and through doing life together: babysitting for one another, helping each other move, supporting each other through triumph and tragedy, laughter and tears, joy and sorrow. We want everyone to be in a setting of discipleship, learning to do life with God; and we ask our leaders more specifically to be in discipling relationships, where they are learning from certain people as well as helping other people learn.
We’re here to help, to walk with you as you walk with Christ, to encourage you and challenge you and provide the space for you to work out what life with God looks like, because we’re meant to do this together, we’re meant to be disciples together, we’re meant to learn together.
So take stock of your life:
- What influence do you have? As you’ve been reading, maybe God has been putting a particular relationship on your heart or bringing a particular situation to your mind, maybe it’s to do with your money or your family or your significant other or your talents and gifts or your connections or your education.
- How have you been stewarding that influence? What have you been doing with what you have? How does that reflect what you’re committed to? How are you being salt and light in that situation—being God’s representative in that place?
- How are you being a disciple? How are you seeking to learn from Jesus? How are you following Jesus? How does your relationship with Jesus impact the way you handle what you’ve been given?
Whether you consider yourself a follower of Jesus or not, whether you’ve heard this a thousands times or never before, the invitation is always there:
I have come that you might have life to the full. … Come, follow me.