Faith is not a power trip or performance art.
If you grew up in church, you heard a lot about the disciples. In case you’re rusty on your Bible, Jesus had 12 disciples. Matthew and John for starters— not to drop names.
Which is funny, really, that these are the guys we’re supposed to model as Christians. Have you ever read the Bible? Those guys were a mess. They were like my own family, with each brother trying to outdo the other. Always missing the point. Living together, squabbling day in and day out, following Jesus around like a pack of keyed-up puppies.
Evangelical churches also like to talk about discipleship, which is a way of evangelizing believers really. More experienced, mature believers are encouraged to disciple younger or less mature believers to a stronger faith. It’s also kind of like mentorship, which sounds like a great idea. As if Tony Robbins got a hold of the Bible somewhere along the way.
Power trip faith
In reality, discipleship is often abused. The idea of being the one with all the answers to gently guide the weak to Jesus is just too much of an ego trip for the wrong kind of people. They say and do all kinds of inappropriate things under the guise of loving discipleship.
— Like the older woman who gently took me aside when I was in college to inform me that my sleeveless dress was a distraction to her husband during worship services because he could see my upper arms. Huh?
— And the woman who stood in front of my mothers group at church to tell us that we’d better pay more attention to our husbands’ needs before the women in his office beat us to it. Okaaay.
— And the man who advised me without invitation as a young teen that relationships are a marathon not a sprint, so I better cool my jets with my boyfriend. Just, gross.
Performance art faith
Not only does the discipleship model put believers on a power trip, it also turns faith into a performance art that leaves little room for real life. Because who doesn’t want to be the ‘discipler’ in that equation?
No one wants to be seen as weak or second class. Everyone wants to be respected and seen as competent, even if their marriage is falling apart and their kids have started messing with marijuana and they struggle with depression and feelings of inadequacy.
So we Christians learn to fake it to make it. We create all kinds of religious jargon to cover up the pain.
“How are things going since the miscarriage?”
“Oh, I’m fine. God is good!”
“All the time, sister.”
“How are you doing since your Mom’s funeral?”
“Oh, you know. Just looking forward to the day when we’ll all be together with Jesus.”
“Amen to that.”
Evangelicals feel constant pressure to ‘disciple’ other believers, in addition to witnessing to unbelievers (so they don’t, you know, burn in hell). I remember one pastor saying that you really knew how strong a person’s faith was when they went through a hard time. Translation: “Keep your shit together, people, even when your heart is breaking. We’re watching you. Don’t let us — I mean, Jesus — down.”
I think this discipleship model is a big reason why after 40 years in evangelical communities, I felt so lonely. The price for allowing people in and sharing your heart, your doubts, your struggles with other people was just too high.
When you’re already hurting, why risk the additional shame of having someone pat you on the shoulder and remind you that God is good all the time? Better to just power through alone.
The good with the bad and the ugly
Not that I haven’t received actual, loving guidance from Christians and churches.
Isn’t that what makes religion and religious experience so confusing? That’s why so many people will stick it out in an unhealthy faith community for years. Because there is good there too.
— Mary Jo was a friend from church who showed me that being a mother mattered.
— Mrs. Howell was a math teacher at my Baptist grade school who told me I was smart and that my voice mattered.
— Loretta taught Sunday school and led our choir faithfully for decades, showing me that commitment mattered.
— Russ demonstrated such genuine love for everyone, that I came to believe that church actually mattered.
I’m a better person for having known each of them. But these people mentored me in my faith not because they took it upon themselves to “disciple” me. They mentored me through their example, through their lives, and through their friendship.
Friendship over discipleship
Since leaving evangelicalism, I’m learning to be more open about my struggles. I’m hiding less. But I’ve been tempted to fall back into the discipleship trap.
I had lunch with a new church friend recently who was half a decade younger than me. Halfway through the lunch as I was being vulnerable and sharing the difficulties of re-examining my faith, I had a sudden depressing realization. As a younger woman who was a new mom, she may have been hoping that I would disciple her. And here I was revealing that I really wasn’t so certain any more that Mary was a virgin when she gave birth to Jesus. Well, shit.
Two seconds later, I decided it didn’t matter. Because I had just spent 40 years playing a religious game that eventually left me looking squeaky clean and superior but empty and lost with very few genuine friendships to show for my time.
And I’m not going back there. I’m no longer interested in being the one with all the answers that I can lord over other people to make myself feel more spiritual while actually making people feel smaller. I would rather risk being rejected for sharing the real me than be admired and respected for something I’m not.
I’m not looking to disciple or be discipled any more. I’m looking for people who are interested in asking the right questions and who will live with me in the wonder and discomfort of never pinning down the ‘right’ answers. I’m looking for friends.
Isn’t that what the disciples really were and what church and faith should be? The disciples were messy, confused, conflicted people who thought they knew God, but weren’t really sure for the most part. They were traveling companions. They were like family. They were real people, living out life, following Jesus, sometimes getting it wrong, sometimes getting it right.
Together.
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Afterword
I know that about now, my fundamentalist brethren are foaming at the mouth. “But Jesus said to go into the world and make disciples!” You’re absolutely right. How’s the current discipleship model working for you? Because if statistics are to be trusted (and I know you’re not generally persuaded by things like facts and lived reality, but hang in there), despite your strong evangelical efforts, the largest growing faith demographic in our country is “none.” Which means, what you’re doin’, ain’t workin’.
There are lots of reasons for this, beloved, so please don’t read this as, “You need to try harder.” Please, don’t try harder. Don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself. Putting hipster clothes and lingo on a broken way of doing faith is not convincing anyone. It just makes us angrier when we finally realize it’s the same old crap in new wrapping paper.
People want more. People want and need permission to be like Jesus — fully human and fully divine. We are spirit, but we are human too. As humans, we need to be part of a community, but we won’t necessarily tolerate unhealthy ways of living to earn it. Not forever.
If you enjoyed this story and are interested in reading more like it, check out my series, “Leaving Church, Losing Religion and Other Spiritual Traumas.”
