5 Ways My Faith Changed After Returning from Israel: Discipleship

My Faith Changed After Returning from Israrel

So it’s Saturday night, and I’m getting ready to leave tomorrow on a weeklong business trip.  I’m going to be driving from Colorado Springs, all the way to Phoenix.  That’s a fourteen hour drive.

But rather than getting a head start on the trip by leaving early tomorrow morning, I’m going to be attending the weekly worship service at the church where I’m a member.  I’m even going to be substitute teaching for a Life Group after the worship service (Life Group is 21st Century non-old fashioned lingo for what everybody used to call “Sunday School).

I guess that means I’ve got my “spiritual stuff” together.  I’m a committed disciple.

What a load of…

Oh excuse me if that was inappropriate, but come on.  Really?

Is that what we’ve cheapened discipleship down to: showing up for church when it may not be convenient?

But you say, “No, David.  Discipleship is much more than that.  It’s about reading your Bible every day and praying and tithing and all that stuff.”

Give me a moment to choke back the puke.

Discipleship is much more than most anyone in American Christianity has ever committed to.

After returning from Israel, I spent a lot of time trying to look at Jesus and His disciples and the way they lived.  I tried to wrap my 21st Century brain around this ancient Jewish concept.  I’m still trying to.

But here are some things you should understand about Biblical discipleship.

In Jesus day, discipleship meant walking with the rabbi so closely that you were covered in his dust.  If he ate, you ate.  If he slept, you slept.  If he interpreted Scripture a certain way, you interpreted it the same way.  If he looked at another people group with contempt, you looked at them with contempt.  If he loved them, you loved them.  If he went to the bathroom, you went to the bathroom.

Being a disciple meant daily living your life exactly the way your rabbi would live it.

And my rabbi taught with authority.  He knew the Scriptures better than any other rabbi who had ever lived.  He healed.  He did miracles.  He prayed constantly.  He endured temptation and won.

He went to the cross for crimes He hadn’t committed.

He rose from the dead.

Now, because He rose from the dead, I’m confident that He will raise me from the dead.  But the rest of the stuff, I’m not so good at.

I guess I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.


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