Back in the Saddle?
My Return to Discipleship
Coffee, Questions, and Discipleship
This morning, I met a young man at a coffee shop for the first time.
We began with “the two questions”:
If you died today, on a scale of 1–10, how sure are you that you would go to heaven?
If Jesus asked why you should be let in, what would your answer be?
From there, we moved into Scripture—texts that reveal the need for discipleship:
Matthew 13:1–9, 18–23 – The Parable of the Sower. Which soil do you resonate with?
Luke 6:46–49 – The Wise and Foolish Builders. What’s the key difference between these two men who both hear Jesus, build a life, and expect a flood?
2 Timothy 2:1–2 – Be strengthened by what? Entrust yourself to whom?
It was rich time in the Word. In just 45 minutes, we covered a lot. I was reminded how much noise we carry in our minds that can block us from truly hearing and understanding Scripture. And yet, I sensed our Father’s pleasure—that He delights in our meeting and desires to bless it.
The coffee shop was Christian-friendly, which I deeply appreciated. I plan to make it a regular Friday spot.
I’m thankful for the young man I met with. I’m thankful to be back in a place where I can resume my calling as a healthy man—teaching others to obey.
I don’t believe this is the only way discipleship happens. I’m discipled well by my pastor through the local church. But I also believe that sitting down with someone and opening the Word—like Philip did with the Ethiopian eunuch—is a God-ordained, cross-denominational superpower. Whether it’s for evangelism or for teaching obedience (which includes sharing, personal piety, and eventually leading a family in faith), this is the kind of work every Christian can do, every month.
I’m so thankful God healed my life. He heard my cry (Psalm 34).
I’m thankful I’m not living as a hypocrite. There is power in holiness, authenticity, and regular confession and absolution.
I’m thankful that the first thing my son texted me today was: “How did discipleship go?”
This doesn’t make me a better Christian. It’s all grace.
But it does make me a happier believer—because I know who I am. I’m like an F-35 pilot, trained to use holy weapons: prayer, sacrificial love, and the gospel. I want to go to war. I’m not a civilian—I’m enlisted. My General didn’t just pay for my education; He died for me so I could live and bring life to others. He didn’t just give me a job—He died so the enemy couldn’t destroy me.
How could I be happy, how could my fellowship be complete, if I weren’t doing His will in this area?
His near-dying words were: “If you love me, you will obey me.”
The fact that He rose again doesn’t diminish the weight of those words—it magnifies them.
I’m filled with joy, even as I look around and see so many well-intentioned people with no root, no foundation, and little or no obedience. The destruction will be great—and that’s among those who are saved.