Untitled Sermon

Good morning, friends. I want to begin today with a direct and somewhat bold question, for which I ask your forgiveness in advance. I’d like to know: Would you sincerely and honestly identify yourself as a disciple of Jesus Christ? I’m not asking if you believe in Him, attend church, have been baptized or confirmed, or even consider yourself part of the Christian faith. My question goes beyond that. I’m asking whether you would say that being a disciple of Jesus Christ is a fundamental part of your identity as a human being—your very core—at this moment. I’m fully aware that the term “discipleship” carries significant weight for many, often burdened with connotations of obligation or judgment. Perhaps we need a renewed vocabulary to capture its essence. So let me rephrase: Would you describe yourself as a student of Jesus? A follower? A learner? Or, as Dallas Willard often suggested, an apprentice—someone who daily learns from Him how to live your life as He would if He were in your place?

The reason I pose this question is straightforward: if we truly desire to access and experience the abundant life God offers, that life is reserved for those who are disciples. Throughout the Gospels, whenever Jesus proclaims the availability of a new kind of life, He immediately calls people to follow Him. The two are inseparable. Consider Mark 1:14-15: “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the gospel of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.’” We explored this in the first message of this series. Then, in verses 16-20, He invites Simon, Andrew, James, and John to leave their nets and become His disciples. The offer of new life and the call to discipleship are intertwined—bound together by God’s design, not to be separated by human hands.

I must emphasize that discipleship is not the burdensome aspect of faith we sometimes imagine it to be. Too often, we frame it as a daunting challenge, but I invite you to see it differently this morning. Discipleship is our greatest opportunity. The cost of not embracing it far outweighs any perceived cost of following. To reject discipleship is to forfeit the chance to know the life God longs to give us. Jesus Himself underscores this in Matthew 16:24-25: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” The paradox is clear: clinging to a lesser life costs us the greater one.

Against this backdrop, I invite us to explore the heart of discipleship together. We often reduce it to a set of rules and regulations, but I want to move beyond that. Let’s revisit the journey of Ignatius of Loyola. We began with him recovering in Loyola after a cannonball injury, where he encountered a vision of a new life through reading The Life of Christ and The Life of the Saints. We followed him to Montserrat, where he experienced a profound repentance—a turning of direction. Now, we trace his steps to Manresa, where he spent 11 months grappling with what it means to follow Jesus. It was there, reflecting on his experiences, that he began drafting the Spiritual Exercises. In the second week of these exercises, Ignatius draws us to the core of discipleship with a simple yet powerful prayer: to ask God for the grace to know Jesus Christ intimately, to love Him more deeply, and to follow Him more closely. For Ignatius, discipleship hinges on this intimate knowledge of Jesus.

Scripture affirms this truth repeatedly. John 17:3 declares, “This is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” Likewise, 1 John 2:3 states, “And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments.” Reflect on the Apostle Paul, who, near the end of his life, wrote in Philippians 3:10, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings.” Even after decades of ministry, Paul yearned for a deeper, more personal knowledge of Jesus. This is the essence of discipleship.

Allow me to offer three reflections on what it means to know Christ:

To know Christ is to engage with Him personally. Knowledge comes in at least two forms. There is factual knowledge—details about a person’s birthplace, upbringing, or occupation. Such information is valuable but rarely transformative. Then there is relational knowledge, gained through personal interaction over time. I have known my wife, Donna Kaye, for 20 years. I understand her preferences, her values, what brings her joy or sorrow, what stirs her anger or longing. This knowledge has profoundly shaped me. When we speak of knowing Christ, we mean this latter kind—not mere facts about Him, but a living relationship with the crucified and risen Lord. Jesus invites us into this in John 15:15: “No longer do I call you servants… but I have called you friends.” This is transformative knowledge.

The primary way to engage with Christ is through the Gospels. To know Him, we must walk with Him in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. When someone new to discipleship asks, “What should I do?” I offer three steps: First, join a community of faith, encountering Christ in worship and the sacraments. Second, draw near to those who suffer, for Jesus meets us there, as He says in Matthew 25:40, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” Third, immerse yourself in the Gospels. I recall a story of Trevor Hudson hosting Dallas Willard. Eager for wisdom, Trevor asked, “What books should I read?” After a thoughtful pause, Willard replied, “Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Give it 20 to 30 years.” The Gospels reveal Jesus not as a distant figure, but as the living Lord present with us now.

Pray the Gospels with intention and imagination. Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises provides a 30-day framework for those committed to discipleship—not to be merely read, but lived. Within it, he offers a rich array of prayer practices: beginning with an awareness of God’s presence, conversing with Jesus as a friend, and reflecting on the day’s events. His most distinctive encouragement is to pray the Gospels imaginatively. This isn’t about historical reenactment or cinematic visualization. It’s an invitation to enter a story—perhaps the feeding of the 5,000 (John 6:1-14) or the encounter at the well (John 4:1-42)—and place yourself within it, either as a participant or as yourself. The goal is singular: “Lord, I want to know You, not just about You.” In this practice, Jesus reveals Himself, stepping from the pages into our present reality. This is the knowledge that transforms.

In closing, I submit that life’s greatest opportunity is to come to know Jesus Christ—to grow in love for Him and to follow Him ever more faithfully, thereby entering the life God desires for us. Dallas Willard, when asked by a student, “Why do you follow Jesus?” responded with a question of his own: “Who else do you have in mind?” Indeed, who else offers what He does? Scripture captures this poignantly in John 6:66-69. After a challenging teaching, many turned away, and Jesus asked the Twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?” Peter replied, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.”

Let us pause for a few moments of silence. Reflect on what this invitation to discipleship stirs within you—to know Jesus more deeply and personally. Consider what it might mean to pray the Gospels intentionally over the next 20 or 30 years. I welcome your thoughts as we journey together.