Going Deep - Christianity Today

Recently I have been drawn to the word deep as a descriptor when I speak of mature Christians. My earliest appreciation for the term came when I read a comment by Richard Foster: “The desperate need today is not for a greater number of intelligent people, or gifted people, but for deep people.”

What does it mean to be a deep Christ-follower today when unlimited options, noisy distractions, and a million versions of truth swamp the soul? How is it possible to be a deep person while being swept up in a 50-60 hour work week (if you’re working), community and school events, shopping, networking, laundering, family-building … oh, and staying on top of things at church too? Is deep even thinkable for anyone living outside of a monastery? I’m just asking.

Of course we can’t even attempt to answer these questions until we explore what deep means. Here’s my working definition: Deep people are those whose lives are organized around Jesus, his character, his call to a serving life, and his death on the cross for their sins. The abilities (or giftedness) of deep people may be quite diverse, but each has the power to influence others to follow Jesus, grow in Christ-likeness, and live a life of faithful service. They love the world, mix well with people, but are wary of spiritual entrapments. They are known for their wisdom, their compassion for others, and their perseverance in hard times.

How important is depth?

Now, consider this statement: A church’s greatest treasure is its deep people. I know recent church emphasis has valued seekers, young people, and people that reflect diversity—all important elements of a healthy church. But absent a core of deep people, a church is in trouble. Deep people do not just happen; they are cultivated. Let’s take this thought one step further. Deep people are a treasure greater than a church’s preacher; greater than its hottest program; even greater than its worship band. I can hear teeth gnashing.

If the previous paragraph is true, then evaluate the following propositions:

A high percentage of a church’s deep people should be lay-people, those whose lives are lived in the marketplace, the school, or the community.

Church leaders should be aware of who their deep people are, just as much as they know where their money is … or isn’t.

Church leaders should imagine an approach to ministry that makes the continuous cultivation of deep people (of every age) its highest priority.

Churches should consider assigning this cultivation effort to their lead pastors, noting it as their top responsibility.

What would it mean for a church to accept these propositions? Well, what if—hang with me here—the first paragraph of the lead pastor’s job description were to read: “The first priority of the lead pastor is to serve as the chief (spiritual) development officer of the entire congregation. He or she will be held personally accountable by the church board to train a certain number of men and women each year qualified to offer spiritual leadership inside and beyond the church organization.”

Two developments have prompted these thoughts. The first is a growing suspicion that many churches are no longer producing many (if any) truly deep people. Something is not working. The Willow Creek Association self-study, called REVEAL, seems to speak to this when it expresses concern for the paucity of mature Christians to be developed by mere involvement in church programs. I’ve done my own unscientific, anecdotal study. Wherever I go in North America and in other parts of the world, I ask pastors these questions:

How many deep people do you know? This often generates a discussion on what deep people look like (see above) and the quiet admission that the number of them is small.

Any chance we’re calling people to an unlivable faith?

If not, do you think your church is producing deep people? (This, all-too-frequently, causes a thoughtful silence and an inventory of discipleship programs that mostly seem to work, but only for a short time.)

Do you personally, as pastor, spend time identifying and mentoring potentially deep people? (This often leads to conversations on how few hours there are in a work week.)

The answers I get to these questions are occasionally encouraging. But most lead me to conclude that a lot of pastors concentrate on what draws crowds (often preaching) but neglect what cultivates deep people (usually mentoring).

But what if most preaching events rarely produce deep people? What if preaching tends rather to inspire, to inform, to provide practical Christian advice—but little more?

These are important functions. But if the premier challenge in ministry leadership is to develop deep people, as described, for example, in Paul’s words, “rooted, built up, strengthened in the faith as taught … overflowing with thanksgiving,” then we may need to rethink how life-altering ministry is accomplished.

Occasionally, when I talk to pastors about these things, I am reminded that larger churches often have a staff person responsible for “discipleship.” This usually means small group programs. These are often very good people.

But sometimes I push back by saying that, if populating the church with increasing numbers of deep people is a church’s highest priority, then that priority cannot be delegated to associate staff. It must be led, and led aggressively, I suggest, by the senior leader. Only then will the congregation get the message that this deep-people cultivation stuff is really important. In other words, the lead pastor must be first-cultivator.

What did Jesus do?

One day I asked myself: If Jesus read the classifieds on the Christianity Today website and decided to apply for a ministry job, which one would he choose? Lead pastor? Soup kitchen operator? Denominational executive? Custodian? Children’s worker?

Apparently most of the hours of Jesus’ public ministry were invested in a small number of men and women who, under his mentorship, morphed into deep people and set in motion a movement that continues to this day. No question about it: this mentoring activity was Jesus at his best, his sweet spot.

So, in what capacity did he do it? Like many do it today? Form a circle and fill in the blanks of a Bible study booklet? Hold a series of Tuesday evening meetings and show videos of inspirational speakers? I don’t think so.

Jesus cultivated deep people in the traditional way of the rabbis. So how did rabbis go about reshaping peoples’ lives? In a way considerably different than ours.

Like most rabbis of his time, Jesus did preach. But it was a very different sort of preaching. Much of it was dialogical: story-telling, questions and answers, argument. It bore little resemblance to the monologues of today’s preachers. If someone interrupted my preaching, as they apparently did in Jesus’ time, I’d be horrified.

Strangely enough, much of Jesus’ preaching would have earned him low grades in today’s preaching courses. I mean, how would you grade a preacher who started with a curious crowd of thousands that dwindled to an audience of 12, who themselves were hardly paragons of fidelity?

Yet Jesus seemed unconcerned with empty seats. What he does appear to have cared about is what the 12 were going to be and do. I’m left to assume that Jesus the rabbi was less a preacher and more a cultivator-coach to those disciples he’d chosen. What he did with them and how he did it, I call the genius of the rabbinical contract.

I never used to take Jesus’ status as a rabbi seriously. With apologies to my Jewish friends, I thought his role as a rabbi was incidental. Then I took a fresh look at the Lord’s life and realized that this status as an itinerant rabbi was crucial to understanding his ministry approach. His mission was to redeem and reframe the lives of those who would extend this mission after he was gone. Rabbis, like parents, always had their eyes on the future. Who would perpetuate their teaching?

It’s likely that at the age of 12, Jesus stood out among his peers for his remarkable ability to master the Torah and his aptitude for engaging with people, including those much older than he. Luke says people really liked Jesus.

A speculative question might be raised: Who was Jesus’ rabbi when he was young? Who was his teacher?

I’ve no idea, but don’t ignore one special person: his mother. She had to have had a profound influence upon his development. She was clearly one tough and intelligent lady (reread The Magnificat). I’m sure that she read the prophet Isaiah to her son every time she had the chance. You can almost hear her saying, “Son, the proud, the powerful, and the rich are not where it’s at. Keep your eye out for the poor, the hungry, and the oppressed. Tell them they’re loved.” And he did.

If the premier challenge in ministry leadership is to develop deep people then we may need to rethink how lifealtering ministry is accomplished.

At the age of 30 Jesus left his family trade and hit the road as a rabbi-teacher. Itinerant rabbis moved from town to town and conducted seminar-type meetings with local people who usually welcomed them and hoped for a miracle or a revolution. In another time we might have called what Jesus did barnstorming. Each of these roaming rabbis possessed a somewhat unique interpretation of the Torah, and their collections of teachings were known as their “word” (as in “my word will not pass away”) or even their “gospel.” It was said that a rabbi “received” his teaching from one who’d gone before him.

Most visible in the life of a rabbi were his students or disciples. They were usually a small, carefully vetted group of younger men who followed the teacher. In some cases, disciples got into this rabbinical relationship because their families negotiated with the rabbi in a way not dissimilar to the way a parent might try to get a son or daughter into a top college or university.

The better connected a family was in the social network, the greater a young man’s chances of connecting with a highly-regarded rabbi. Paul reflects this arrangement when he supports his claim to be an authentic Jew. “Under Gamaliel, I was thoroughly trained,” he says. Today he might have put it this way: “I got my degree from the College of Gamaliel.”

We have several descriptions of how things developed between Jesus and his disciples. When Jesus spent time on the boat with Peter and other fishermen, Peter told him, “Depart from me for I am a sinful man” (Luke 5).

Peter simply could not visualize himself as a disciple. Too much of a past, he may have reasoned; too many character defects; too many other ambitions. He seemed to see no way he could be what Jesus’ rabbinical contract would require.

Jesus’ response-“from this moment you will become a fisher of men”—doubtlessly builds off an extensive earlier conversation. In the end Jesus broke through Peter’s resistance and drew him away from his trade and into a life of learning and serving.

In telling us this story, the gospel writers seem to assume that we, the readers, are conversant with the drama of the disciple-picking event. They seem to assume we know that this leaving of the nets was no instant decision, but that it had been discussed, proposed, pondered. And now the thinking became actionable. Peter and the others enter the rabbinical contract.

In the times that followed, Peter’s rogue opinions and impulsive behaviors appear to vindicate his original opinion of himself. He was no “rock” in those early days, and most of us—had we been the rabbi—would probably have offloaded him at the first opportunity.

Jesus’ further choice to call both Matthew (tax collector) and Simon (of the Zealot movement) is stunning when you think about it. The two men could easily have killed each other! Their political positions were as different as those of Bill Maher and Rush Limbaugh.

The 12 Jesus picked were diverse in their personalities, backgrounds, and expectations. Few of us would dare to put these people in the same room together, much less anticipate depth from them.

How do you deepen a disciple?

So how did Jesus deepen these men? Three answers: emulation, information, and examination.

Emulation: The disciples of a rabbi sought to mimic everything about their mentor. What did he think? How did he talk? How did he eat? Disciples desired to be flawless copies of their rabbi. They believed that the rabbi was the incarnation of the Torah, and they, in turn, wished for others to see the example of the rabbi in them. Now we can understand Paul when he says: “I want to know Christ … even in his death.” To know was to be like.

Information: The rabbi might teach in the Temple area, but, often, rabbis taught away from a classroom and out on the roads, the fields, the marketplace, the lake shore. Everything in ordinary life became an illustration of the rabbi’s teaching; most everything was taught in story form or in riddles and proverbs designed to make a point and challenge the disciple’s mind. Rabbis were unafraid to leave conclusions up in the air. Even Jesus tells stories with no obvious application. It’s as if he likes to say, “Go figure!”

Examination: Rabbis provided times of testing. Think of Jesus’ ministry: the storm, feeding the 5000, the betrayal in the garden. Times of testing. You can hear Jesus, saying “Where is your faith?” when the storm is quieted. “You give them something to eat,” he demands pointing to the crowd. “You’re all going to forsake me,” he predicts. There were also rebukes: “Get behind me, Satan.” And questions: “What were you discussing when I wasn’t there?” And assignments: “He sent them to preach the kingdom of God …”

When the rabbi decided that the contract had been fulfilled, he discharged his disciples. Again, Jesus: “You’re servants no longer; you’re friends.” “It’s best for you that I go away.” “You’re going to do more than I’ve done.” “Love one another as you’ve been loved.” “Get out into the world and replicate yourselves by teaching what I’ve taught you.”

After saying these things, he left them. His teaching now burned into their heads, his spirit now resident in their hearts. Finally, they were on their way to becoming deep people.

You’ve got to admit it when you review the story: Jesus was an incredible producer of deep people. In three years he made 12 champions. Well, 11 anyway.

How do we do what Jesus did?

So what might we learn from all of this?

1. By knowing our “main thing.” Is our goal simply to attract a crowd? Or to develop deep people who will carry on Jesus’ cause? Developing deep people may not produce instant crowds, but it lays the foundation for a strong and enduring ministry.

2. By not delegating this away. Developing deep people has to be spearheaded by the number one person in the organization. Ask yourself—and this is sort of silly—if Jesus could have accomplished what he came to do if he had turned to John the Baptizer and said, “I’d like to make you my discipleship director. You teach the people what I think is important while I address the larger crowds, cast the vision, raise the money, and network the influencers in the Temple.”

3. By helping our churches see that the continuous development of deep people is among the church’s most serious investments, and that pastors are held accountable for their work in pursuing this mandate.

4. By following the strategy of emulation, information and examination. Admittedly, this takes time, and it probably means that a lead pastor might have to say to the church board, “I’m going to invest 20 percent of my time in 12-15 people each year, and you’re going to have to support me when the congregation begins to ask why I’m not around for a lot of program events.”

The strategy of the rabbinical contract probably requires time away from church property, being out of the view of the larger congregation. The pastor’s home might be a good place to start. The would-be disciples’ workplaces could be another. Any venue where growth can be taught, illustrated, and tested is a useful place.

A fifth thought. Rabbis are not necessarily nice guys. They constantly raise the bar on their disciples. They are not reluctant to open up their own lives; they know how to poke into the inner space of their disciples; they know how to bring out the best in others. Cultivating deep people is serious business.

Paul is thinking about the rabbinical contract when he writes to Timothy. “What I’ve taught you … teach others … who will teach others.” Do it by being an example, Paul says, “in speech (what and how you say things), in life (the way you live), love (your quality of relationships), faith (how you trust God), and purity (your moral choices).” That’s all rabbinical talk. “Command, rebuke, exhort?” Also rabbinical. In short: Timothy’s assignment was to grow deep people.

Here’s a final thought. We’re developing disciples of Jesus not of ourselves. The rabbi’s deep people are not his. Disciples are not to be owned, controlled, or misused. They belong to Jesus, and he is free to guide them toward life and leadership in the church but also, possibly, beyond it. The church’s greatest treasure—these deep people—must be shared, exported, sent out.

When Jesus prayed before his arrest in the garden, what did he pray for? He prayed for “those whom you gave me.” Hear him: “I have revealed you to them … I have given them your word … they need your protection … they need to be sanctified … I’ve sent them out.”

He prayed not for the crowds he’d preached to, but for the disciples he’d cultivated.

I have known a “rabbi” or two in my life who guided me through the process of emulation, instruction, and examination. Sometimes they were tough, sometimes tender. They believed in the present and future me. They saw what I might become and endeavored to deepen me. They are all gone now. I miss them greatly. But I have their “word,” and I’m committed to handing their gospel on to others.

Gordon MacDonald is editor at large of Leadership Journal.