Discipling What’s Missing

Before Jesus left this earth, he gave a pretty clear directive: go and make disciples. Sure, there’s a lot more depth to that passage, but that’s the headline. Just like Chevrolet makes automobiles, just like McDonald’s makes hamburgers, and just like Dr Pepper makes a perfectly balanced 23-flavor drink, Christians make disciples. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve heard people list off what to look for in someone that you might disciple. Honestly, I’ve searched out those lists because I wanted to spend my time strategically.

These lists usually go something like this: find someone who is teachable, available, and faithful. We wouldn’t say this out loud, but it practically boils down to, “grab the best Christian you can find and make them a better Christian.” Quite frankly this always bothered me, and I wasn’t able to figure out why until I stumbled across a poem by Rumi, a 13th century Sufi mystic. Here’s part of what he wrote:

“I’ve said before that every craftsman

searches for what’s not there

to practice his craft.

A builder looks for the rotten hole

where the roof caved in. A water carrier

picks the empty pot. A carpenter

stops at the house with no door.

Workers rush toward some hint

of emptiness, which they then

start to fill. Their hope, though,

is for emptiness, so don’t think

you must avoid it. It contains

what you need!” [1]

As Christians, disciple-making is our craft. Why on earth then would we seek out the best Christians to make them better? That would be the equivalent of a painter sitting down and painting over an existing picture instead of starting with a blank canvas. Just as a builder looks for a hole, we should seek to disciple the people that most need Jesus. It’s not as easy, and you won’t get to take credit for mentoring an already strong Christian, but I think that’s what Jesus would have done. After all, didn’t he say that God was like a shepherd that would leave 99 sheep safely behind while he sought out the missing one? And if I remember correctly, Jesus didn’t pick his disciples from the cream of the crop; he sat down to eat with folks that the religious leaders wouldn’t go near.

I’ll tell you how I identify people to disciple. I lead a small group (for high school students) on Sunday nights, I open my house for them to hang out on Wednesday nights, and periodically I invite people to join me in what I’m already doing – like watching a movie. All I do is invite people and I watch to see who shows up consistently. Typically, that’s not the kids who are running after Jesus, it’s the ones running away from dysfunction at home or in other parts of their lives. It’s kind of like Jesus sitting by a well and waiting for someone to show up who desperately needs to draw water at an odd time because she’s the talk of the town.

The way I see it, if you’re serious about following Jesus, there’s a million and one online resources to help. You’ll probably also hear some useful stuff in church every Sunday. Rather, it’s the person who’s angry at God or doesn’t understand how He’s relevant that demands my attention. It’s the sheep missing from the flock, the coin that’s disappeared, the Peter who’s gone back to fishing after his world came crashing down.

Hear me clearly, I am not saying that we need to neglect the people faithfully involved in our churches. Jesus’ parable of the Lost Sheep did not say that the shepherd left 99 sheep to starve to death! He left them safely on a hill, knowing that they needed less of his time while he devoted his energy to searching out the lost sheep. Likewise, when it comes to disciple making, we ought to balance our time and energy, devoting our craftsmanship where it can do the most good.

[1] Rumi. “Craftsmanship and Emptiness.” The Essential Rumi. Edited by Coleman Barks, 24. New York: HarperCollins, 1995.

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