At the end of the church service last Sunday, I got distracted by something happening eight feet in front of me. Four middle school boys had their arms tightly wrapped around each other, swaying as one while they sang the lyrics on the big screens. They held that chain of physical connection through our pastor’s final prayer. I smiled. Those boys must have been at summer camp together this week.
Roughly two hundred students arrived home Saturday night from a camp where 15 of the kids had gotten baptized in a lake—some by their parents. As I scrolled social media before bed, I saw posts from multiple parents about how there was something special happening last week between the high ropes course and the water zip line. Some of the language, photos, and videos reminded me of what observers reported about the recent Asbury Outpouring. It didn’t look like how any week of church camp ended across my multiple experiences as a camper (or my five weeks in 1998 as a counselor).
Those middle school boys took me back to a line from Luke’s journalism of the years after Jesus’ resurrection. Luke recorded the response of the Hebrew priests to Peter and John. First, the religious leaders were impressed by the apostles’ boldness despite their lack of education. Then, Luke says the Jewish elites noted that the “men had been with Jesus.”
For the last several weeks, I’ve been thinking about this verse. I co-lead a men’s Bible study with attendees representing up to six different churches in our area. We exegete a lot of Scripture together and spend vulnerable time in intercessory prayer. But I’ve been pondering whether—when we leave our fire pit and head home—our wives and friends can tell we’d been with Jesus.
Jesus said he was the Way, the Truth, and the Life. I wonder if my buddies and I seem more aligned with the way of the kingdom, more authentic with our realities, and more alive and life-giving than we were a year ago. Jesus said he and the Father are one. His protege, John, said, “God is love.” So, looking more like Jesus means embodying love. That leads me to reflect on the list Saul of Tarsus wrote about true love in 1 Corinthians 13.
Am I becoming less irritable? Less boastful? Less rude?
Am I growing less demanding, less vindictive, and less jealous?
Am I developing more patience? More kindness? More hope?
Those middle school boys came home from camp with softer hearts and less concern about appearing cool. While they hadn’t literally “lived with Yeshua” (Acts 4:13 APEB) like Peter & John had, they had a proxy. Those gangling guys had shared cabins and meals and adventures with counselors who’ve spent a lot of time with Scripture, with spiritual music, with vulnerable community, and with faithful mentors.
Those eighth graders exemplified a critical truth:
who we let disciple us determines how much people will be able to see Jesus’ influence on our hearts.
I’ve been taking stock of the voices in my life. I watch standup comedy pretty much daily, and I struggle not to “sit in the seat of the mockers” (Psalm 1:1 NLT) or “take [my] seat among the know-it-alls” (Psalm 1:1 MSG). I listen to probably twenty podcasts and a nonfiction book per week, and I’ve often had to ask myself if the voices I’m absorbing are healthy for my eternal heart. While it’s beneficial to regularly take in opinions different from our own, I’ve wrestled with the tenor of those voices. I’ve had to work to offset the disembodied content of strangers with (1) the voices of seasoned believers around our weekly fire pit, (2) the intuitive perspective of my wife, (3) the questions of my church’s elders, and (4) the insight of my faith-based therapist.
I’m not the only believer who struggles to guard my heart as encouraged in Proverbs 4:23. I have friends who are being discipled by talk radio flamethrowers, cable news pundits, and conspiracy YouTubers. I can tell by the content shared online or referenced in conversation that others filter their Jesus through prosperity salesmen, raging preachers, legalist theologians, or Instagram influencers.
We’re all being discipled by someone else—probably multiple somebodies.
Those disciplers either push us closer to the Way, the Truth, and the Life or pull us farther from the Source of All Love. We’re either getting softer or harder, kinder or more critical, more or less forgiving. And the voices we let speak over us prove to be a critical factor in our spiritual trajectory. So, if we’re not becoming more humble, patient, gracious, and compassionate, it’s wise to ask whether the voices in our lives have those qualities.
While I never want to go back to seventh grade or summer camp, I do hope observers will smile when they see a change in me. For that to happen, I’ll need to regularly inspect the voices I let past my ears and into my soul.
Cover image purchased from iStockPhoto.com
Other images pulled from my church’s social media
