Tag: Dallas Willard

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Aim

Certain words have a way about them.

Through every century since Jesus first employed it the term Disciple has pulsed with meaning.

‘Disciple’ carries a weight, an identity and an assignment. A central aim of Jesus’ life and ministry on earth gets captured by this term. Indeed, the final commissioning words the resurrected Christ offered to his followers on the Jerusalem hillside brings it home,

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations”.* He pronounced the assignment to his followers, and was gone.

The phrase is clear. It states what Jesus wants. Go. Make disciples.

So, what does disciple mean? Wikipedia doesn’t always get it right with definitions. In this case it has,

“In the ancient world, a disciple is a follower or adherent of a teacher. It is not the same as being a student in the modern sense. A disciple in the ancient biblical world actively imitated both the life and teaching of the master. It was a deliberate apprenticeship which made the fully formed disciple a living copy of the master.”

Apprenticeship. Words do have a way about them. In his work The Divine Conspiracy, Dallas Willard helps us with the word apprentice.

Two words. . . Disciple. Apprentice. . . their meaning is the same. This is helpful when the sincere believer asks, “What does becoming a follower-of-Jesus look like?”

So Jesus – savior, teacher, trainer – walks along-side his redeemed ones. He is with them every moment in the person of the Holy Spirit under the caring eye of Father God. He is accessible to his children and they to him. The believer may draw on the peace, joy, love and power of the Spirit’s present companionship.

Consider this. What richer offer could come one’s way as we go about living our lives in real time on this earth? The offer is authentic. But it is more than an offer, it is Christ’s commissioning to every believer,

“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children.”*

There it is, right from the New Testament. Apprentice language.

Probably a good early question we might ask of ourselves, “Who am I, as a Christian? Am I a forgiven sinner permitted into heaven when I die? Am I that and only little more?” Or am I stirred somehow toward becoming what Jesus stated he was after – a person easily recognizable as God’s child? One growing more and more to resemble the son of the Father in both character and conduct. Being as he was. Doing as he did.

Increasing numbers of believers are making the shift, growing on purpose into Jesus-likeness. Am I in?

*Ephesians 5:1; Matthew 28.19

©2023 Jerry Lout

 

 

 

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Summit Destiny

While the dance idea may suit some believers as they launch into a transforming life in Jesus, the metaphor likely won’t attract others. A mountain-climbing expedition may. The apprenticing pilgrim takes on a rigorous life if he is seriously chasing the call of Jesus: Follow me.

More rigorous than a climber striking out for, say, Africa’s highest mountain peak. Our family lived and served among the Chaga people in the foothills of the majestic mammoth.

School break had set in for our two oldest. “Shall we give Kili a try?”

What parent adopts a fairy-tale voice and launches into a children’s story (the Little Red Choo-choo Train) for a teenaged son or daughter? In a public setting, no less.

Maybe it can inspire them to go the full distance (Kilimanjaro’s 19,000-foot summit) once we set out from this base camp. As the fairy-tale unfolded, fourteen-year-old Scott lazered his attention to a hiking boot as if the world’s survival depended on his rightly adjusting a small stone beneath it. Anything to distance his association with the backpack-laden man prattling on with “I think I can, I think I can. . .” Julie, two years his senior, simply rolled her eyes.

The truth was, we were in for the most daunting test of our stamina and will we had ever faced.

Hiking miles upward to Africa’s loftiest point, with its scarce oxygen and precarious steeps, calls for all the reserves a climber can summons. Reaching Kili’s snowy rim demands three things. Vision, intention and means. 

A brilliant and beloved U.S.C. professor and gospel minister, Dallas Willard, strung this trio of nouns – Vision, Intention, Means – together when coaching Christ-followers toward best practices in their quest to become like Jesus. Willard often used the word apprentice when speaking of a disciple.

“An apprentice of Jesus is learning from him how to lead their life as he would lead their life if he were they.”

My own long and incompleted walk towards transformation into Christlikeness – winding trails (often upward, at other times plateaued, even descending) – stirs added memories from the 1989 Kilimanjaro venture. Our little trio in the company of our guide.

The climb would have met with failure but for our guide.

©2018 Jerry Lout

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Follow

For years my faith was out of sorts. Not that it lacked truth. Or strength. Or substance (though this could be a subject for another day).

My faith bobbled and wobbled from a lack of understanding how it was meant to be applied. . . or not applied. Especially where actual life formation was concerned. How I was meant to grow – tools to move me there – actual steps to Christlikeness.

A car-towing venture in Africa during the ‘60s might illustrate (a blog entry at this site labeled Drag Race, relates the drama in full).

Two men. Two cars. One of the vehicles, a Jeep, has its engine running. It’s towing the other – a disabled Volkswagen Beetle.

All went well until, navigating a long, downhill slope of dirt road, the less-seasoned Beetle driver – his car gaining speed – elected to pass the Jeep. Yes, to move in front of the lead car. . . Tow rope secure, in place.

His act was not one of the better options open to him. The driver was abruptly schooled in a basic principle. The tow rope would prove a friend as long as its use was rightly applied.

In my hopes of maturing in areas of Christlikeness I failed (like the VW pilot) to position myself rightly in relation to my leader.

It is the wise Jesus-follower who keeps the Rabbi’s sandal-prints in view. Simply moving forward as apprentice-in-training, eyeing the master, taking signals from him. Rather than the alternative – charging. . . or meandering [the speed doesn’t seem to matter] – off independently.

Actions taken in the hope of life transformation fall to two categories. Dallas Willard offers one of them as the clear choice, stating that effective life-change for the good rests on this critical approach – Training vs Trying.

Like the poor, distracted driver, I’ve spent a lot of my energy trying to keep myself aright, often inattentive to a useful point. The fellow in the lead has a better view of the landscape, holds the necessary power at his disposal, and knows just where we’re headed.

Entrusting my understanding to his recommended way – the power needed supplied in full and within easy reach – I might enter a more hopeful process. Not apart from effort, to be sure, this further journey into his likeness. But surprisingly effective, richly hopeful and actually less labor-intensive. In the Rabbi’s language – an easy yoke.

I was at last entering a means that may help me avoid the wrong use of my lifeline, sparing my ‘mobility’ being toppled sideways in the dust.

The rabbi-teacher inviting me to a better means.

“A more excellent way” – 1 Corinthians 12:31

©2018 Jerry Lout       [Ian Espinosa  photo credit. Crossroads]

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Tarzan Country

When noting the kinds of things God often does through ordinary people, Philosopher Dallas Willard was fond of citing the term “divine conspiracy”. Such deeds – often a little mind-boggling – are probably not as rare as many of us assume.

“This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground.  Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how.”   – Jesus (Mark 4:26-27)

***

The term Belgian Congo would never have crossed my mind as a child separate from images of Tarzan trapezing lofty vines, crying his trademark jungle yodel. Nor would I have seen myself ever addressing a crowd in that place deep in the heart of Africa.

Especially at one particular place.

Moving to the pulpit of the capital city’s downtown church I was greeted by the pastor, a man I’d been told was a former anti-Christian militant.

Alexander Aidini.

The throng of Congolese worshippers acknowledged me, their out-of-country guest, with happy shouts of welcome as my friend, Ben Dodzweit, introduced me in their native Lingala.

Pastor Aidini’s journey from gospel foe to disciple-of-Jesus was by now thirty years in the making and the accounts of his pilgrimage had left me nothing less than awed.

Not long after his dramatic conversion in Mombasa, Aidini answered a call to Christian service. Art Dodzweit, Ben’s uncle, had taken the rough-around-the-edges disciple into his mentoring care. Following a stint in Uganda, Aidini returned to his Congo home and its capital, Kinshasa. In time forces opposed to colonial rule overthrew the Congo and assigned it the name Zaire.

Along the way, Aidini’s fiery devotion to Jesus grew. And unusual things followed.

©2018 Jerry Lout

 

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A New Coach

The apprentices did not tire of their hardships in the company of the carpenter-turned-rabbi. Roughing it with Jesus deepened them somehow. And, while his parables and assignments at times perplexed them, they were never at risk of getting bored.

As he labored at offering up truth and clarifying it where needed, Jesus remained always-present to them. His favorite moments seemed to be found engaging these clearly flawed but hungering men. The rabbi taught with warmth and wit and they would catch the occasional upturned smile in the flicker of a crackling night fire. At other times his voice was marked by a distressful tone. This would not often pass unnoticed, their searching eyes exploring his troubled features. Clearly he knew things – deep, disturbing, wonderful things – not yet ripe for sharing.

While they at times tracked his sayings with clear-eyed understanding, the recruited apprentices weren’t always the keenest of trainees.

He could leave them feeling uneasy by his prescriptions for living life. Sometimes they were utterly baffled over a point he seemed bent on making. In these times, to his credit, he never demeaned them. Rather, the rabbi gently drew them in. . . to reflecting, to pondering, in ways the best educators through history have commonly done.

Jesus’s first team of trainees numbered just twelve. The wildly-diverse company of personalities with their contrasted backgrounds walked with Jesus, under his tutelage a good three years and more.

Partly because of his awful and glorious final acts – yielding up himself as a young man in his prime to a voluntary death, then shockingly emerging fully alive three days later from his garden tomb – the rabbi’s handful of followers came to embrace him fully. And, considering their remarkable Holy Spirit-empowering afterward, how could his company of trainee-disciples possibly remain few!

Being fully divine, Jesus remained entirely man. Human, subject to weariness, to pain, pleasure, hope. Yet he stayed blameless, flawless-of-character, good.

While Jesus was surely qualified to mentor craftsmen in the skills of carpentry and construction, he knew well that his mission lay elsewhere. It was a mission spanning eternity and with all tribes of the human family in view. It was a call of cosmic dimension, an assignment in transforming communities out of all earth’s cultures and languages, into persons remarkably like himself.

While the word apprentice hasn’t always sprung readily to mind when reaching for a label to tag a “Jesus-follower”, it may come as close as any to best portray this mentor-mentee relationship.

Jesus was a master teacher. Beyond this, Jesus supplies not only knowledge for learning but the power needed to effectively apply life-altering truths to raw, in-the-trenches daily living. Bringing his disciples forward into a life as his own, he leads as friend.

A few years back I happened onto the writings of a gentleman in whom the term “apprentice to Jesus” had found a welcome home. He referenced it often. The apprentice word fits Dallas Willard like a favorite pair of gym shoes fits an athlete.

We can likely learn some things from a seasoned Christ-follower apprentice – who, on entering the process, found an entirely new life emerge.              

                               “Follow me as I follow Christ”     – Paul, the apostle

         ©2018 Jerry Lout