Lessons from Lola: Who's Holding the Lead?
Part Two: Why Following Jesus Requires Guidance, Not Just Good Intentions.
If twentieth-century Western culture had a theme song, it might have been Frank Sinatra’s My Way.
The song itself has had remarkable staying power. Decades after its release, it is still regularly chosen for funerals. And perhaps that is because Sinatra captured something deeply embedded in the Western imagination: the desire to look back on a life and say, “I made my own choices. I followed my own path. I did it my way.”
Of course, Sinatra was not the only one singing this particular tune.
If My Way expressed the self-reliance and independence of his generation, The Who’s My Generation captured a new cultural mood among the Baby Boomers: a refusal to simply inherit the values and expectations of the previous generation.
By the time Queen released I Want to Break Free in 1984, the language of liberation had become even more explicit. The song isn't simply a celebration of radical autonomy. It also reflects another value that has increasingly accompanied it: a deep suspicion of control and constraint. Freedom came to mean not simply the ability to choose, but the ability to resist anyone who might limit or direct your choices.
For my own generation, that suspicion of authority found perhaps its loudest expression in Rage Against the Machine's Killing in the Name, with its furious refusal to submit: "F*** you, I won't do what you tell me."
Does music create cultural change, or simply reflect back what it sees?
Whatever the answer, it is undoubtedly true that autonomy- the freedom to choose for ourselves, define ourselves, and answer ultimately to ourselves- has increasingly become one of the highest human goods in Western culture.
And, of course, autonomy is only one part of the story. Alongside our celebration of independence has grown a deep suspicion of authority. Often, for good reason. History has shown us the damage that can be done when authority is abused. Churches, governments, schools, and other institutions have all given people reasons to be cautious of those who claim the right to lead.
Given the prevalence and potency of these two cultural instincts- our commitment to autonomy and our suspicion of authority- what happens when we bring them into the life of Christian discipleship?
Solo Christianity
Most Christians are familiar with Jesus' words in Matthew 5: "You are the light of the world." We know them so well that we've even written songs about them. One much-loved Sunday School chorus captures the idea like this:
Jesus bids us shine,
With a clear, pure light,
Like a little candle burning in the night;
In this world of darkness, we must shine,
You in your small corner,
And I in mine.
It’s a lovely song. But I wonder if it unintentionally reveals something about the lens through which we read the Bible.
When most Western Christians hear Jesus say, “You are the light of the world,” we instinctively hear the word “you” as singular. But, as Howard Webb points out in Redemptive Family, the “you” in Matthew’s Gospel is plural. Jesus isn’t addressing a collection of isolated individuals; he is speaking to a community. It is not simply you, the individual Christian, who are the light of the world. It is you all, together.
That small grammatical observation exposes a much bigger cultural assumption. We have become so accustomed to thinking of the Christian life as a personal journey that we instinctively hear even communal invitations as individual ones.
Of course, there are seasons when faith can feel lonely. There are times when we find ourselves standing for Christ in difficult places. But that is not the picture Jesus paints here. He does not envisage a collection of lone rangers, each faithfully shining away in splendid isolation. He is forming a people whose shared life together becomes a light to the world.
Why Following Jesus Requires Guidance, Not Just Good Intentions
John Mark Comer has helped popularise an old way of describing discipleship: apprenticing ourselves to Jesus.
I love that language because apprentices don't simply accumulate information. They learn from someone. They practise. They make mistakes. They receive correction. And over time, they slowly become capable of doing what their teacher can do.
Good apprenticeships require three things: a commitment to the relationship, a genuine desire to learn and grow, and a willingness to be guided.
Last month I reflected that Lola, our puppy, is unlikely to become a calm, obedient dog by accident. Love and good intentions aren’t enough. Left to herself, she’ll simply become very good at being a naughty puppy. She needs someone to patiently and consistently show her what she cannot yet see for herself.
The same, I suspect, is true of us.
If we're serious about becoming more like Jesus, why would we imagine Christian discipleship is the one area of life where we flourish entirely alone?
Perhaps one reason is that we've been shaped by a culture that prizes freedom above almost everything else.
Spanky Moore, reflecting on an idea from Mark Sayers, suggests that human flourishing depends on three things being held in balance: freedom, community, and meaning. His observation is that many Westerners have freedom in abundance, while community and meaning often run on empty.
He even began warning the dechurched young adults joining his discipleship huddles with this statement of full disclosure:: "What I'm about to ask you to commit to will feel like death."
It's a striking line.
I suspect we egalitarian Kiwis feel this particularly keenly. It would be nice if we could, by ourselves, figure out how to follow Jesus.
It would certainly suit me. I could read a few books. Listen to a few podcasts. Pray when I remember. Turn up to church on the occasional Sunday. That would satisfy both my desire for autonomy and my suspicion of authority.
The trouble is, Jesus doesn't seem to think discipleship works that way.
The Asymmetry of Discipleship
A few years ago, I joined one of Spanky’s weekly discipleship huddles. One of the things that struck me was how clear he was, from the very beginning, about the kind of relationship we were entering. This wasn’t simply a gathering of equals sharing ideas.
Spanky put it plainly: “I’ll serve you by leading.”
That sentence has stayed with me.
Because leadership, at its best, is an act of service. It means taking responsibility for something that matters- in this case, someone else’s growth. And part of that responsibility is accountability.
An apprentice doesn’t simply need information. They need someone who can help them see what they cannot yet see in themselves. Every apprenticeship contains an asymmetry. Not of worth, but of experience.
The apprentice and the tradesperson have equal dignity, but they don’t have equal knowledge. The beginner and the coach have equal value, but they don’t have equal perspective. That difference isn’t a problem to be overcome. It is part of what makes apprenticeship work.
And this is where accountability matters.
Without someone taking responsibility for the apprentice’s growth, apprenticeship can quietly become observation. A small group can become a collection of equals exchanging opinions. Conversation matters. Questions matter. Listening matters. But Christian discipleship requires more than discussion.
Sometimes someone needs to ask, “Have you noticed this?”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Are you actually practising what you say you believe?”
That isn’t control. It is care expressed through responsibility.
Jesus never gathered twelve disciples simply to facilitate conversation. He gathered apprentices.
He taught them.
He corrected them.
He sent them out.
He debriefed their failures.
He repeated himself.
He invited their questions.
And he expected them to obey.
He wasn’t creating independent spiritual consumers. He was forming people who would learn his way of life and eventually help others follow him. Christian discipleship has always been more than acquiring knowledge. It is learning a way of life from someone who is already walking it.
Lola won’t become the dog she is capable of becoming by accident. She’ll get there because someone patiently teaches her, corrects her, encourages her, and helps her try again.
We aren’t so different.
Who is helping you apprentice yourself to Jesus?
And just as importantly:
Who are you helping to do the same?
Sources: Howard Webb, Redemptive Family; Spanky Moore: Vocatio.
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