A Tale from the Trail

This past summer, my wife and I found ourselves in one of the most beautiful places we’ve ever been — Victoria, British Columbia. The city itself reminded us of Disneyland with its lush flower beds, sculpted hedges, and historic architecture, but there was even more beauty to be found in the surrounding area. And we were set on finding it.

We found it on a trail to the top of Mt. Finlayson in Goldstream Provincial Park. This half-day venture would allow us to stretch our legs, have those conversations that only happen on the trail, and take in the panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and sea.

The hike was challenging and the terrain difficult in many places. As I tracked our progress via an app, I couldn’t help but notice that there appeared to be a trail descending the backside of the mountain. While I strongly prefer to return the same way I came — especially in unfamiliar territory — maybe we’d do something different today.

No one at the summit appeared to be taking this other trail, but a few locals did confirm its existence. So, after some time enjoying the picturesque views and celebrating our victory over gravity, we began the new and unfamiliar descent.

The forest was spectacular in the afternoon light. And all was well for the first mile or so. Periodic checks of the map and our progress showed us right on track. Until they didn’t. One minute we were good. A half mile later, the app showed us way off the trail. And yet we were on a trail.

We faced a decision… To continue on meant we would be flying blind in unfamiliar territory. To turn back meant a long trek back to the summit before descending the way we had come.

In all honesty, it was a tough call. Risk wasting more time or getting lost? Or cut our losses and head back? As we mulled our options, my peripheral vision picked up movement in the trees. It was a hiker descending from the summit the same way we had come. We were in luck!

As he approached, we introduced ourselves — and our dilemma. He wasn’t familiar with our map or the original trail it showed, but he was familiar with this new trail and offered to accompany us the rest of the way down. 

His experience and confidence allayed our concerns and his presence proved helpful as we encountered more questions along the way. The trail proved longer and far different than I had envisioned it. I can tell you with certainty that we would have turned back at some point if not for his assistance along the way.

The significance of this event was not lost on me. My wife and I had made a major decision just months earlier to leave what we knew as ministry and venture into new and unfamiliar territory — relational discipleship. We had a map and even a couple of guide books written by those who had been there before. But we knew there would be questions along the way. We had so many already! 

What we lacked was someone who would take the to trail with us.

Unbeknownst to us, that person would step into our lives just a handful of weeks after this hike — and in a way that was eerily reminiscent of this day on the trail. We stood at a critical  junction in pursuit of this new ministry, but it was time to go off the map. To go from theory to practice. In unfamiliar territory. Unsure if we were on the right track or even understood the trail.

This time it wasn’t something in my peripheral vision, but rather the buzzing of my iPhone against the wooden surface of a nearby desk that caught my attention. It was a Facebook message from a pastor in Houston by the name of Brandon Guindon. We had met when I visited his church about five months earlier.

In keeping with our current theme, you could say that Brandon is a seasoned hiker. He knows the map and guidebooks well, having assisted in their development and production. More importantly, he has decades of experience on the types of trails we were setting out on. And, in an extraordinary turn of events that we couldn’t have foreseen or arranged, he was reaching out to see if we might need some guidance — or a guide!

In a world full of people standing at the summit, pointing to the trail, and wishing others well, here was someone willing to take to the trail with people just one degree of separation from total strangers. Who does that?

That Facebook message was just the beginning of an ongoing relationship that has included multiple trips to Houston, regular phone and video calls, and countless hours of conversation, questions, clarification, and encouragement. Just this past month, the pastor and his staff invested six days of time and training in some couples who have joined us on the journey. It was incredible!

To be honest, I still find it all a bit hard to believe. What makes Brandon and his people so different? Why are they so generous? And so committed? After being in the process long enough, I discovered the answer. And it’s incredibly simple: They get it.

They have experienced the transformation that occurs when one person intentionally invests what they have in another over time. They have reaped the benefits both personally and corporately. And they have discovered God at work in the midst of it.

When it’s something and someone you’ve become, it’s easy to figure out how to do that for others — you do what has been done for you.

Everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher. 

Luke 6:40

The reality is that true discipleship — what Jesus did with his followers — is a lost art. He took some pretty raw materials and made disciple-making machines out of them. He took fishermen and tax collectors, invested three years of teaching and on-the-job training in them — in other words, He invested himself — and then sent them out to change the world.

Disciple-making churches do the same thing, taking accountants, plumbers, and cooks — everyday people like you and me — and raising them up to be disciple makers, shepherds, and pastors. They are certainly the exception to the rule at a time when many churches seem focused only on improving the show and filling the seats. Ministry is left to the professionals while the vast majority of the body of Christ is relegated to the role of spectator.

It is crazy to think that this trail of discipleship is unfamiliar territory to me after 15 years in ministry. I should have had the trail of discipleship all mapped out long ago. 

It turns out that this trail lies on the backside of the mountain of church activity and goes largely unexplored. It’s a trail that follows the mission and methods of Jesus. A trail that is never traveled alone. And one that fits perfectly with who we’ve been created and called to be. 

Our current focus is on creating environments where authenticity is the norm, where it is safe to struggle and have questions, where individuals can explore what following Jesus really looks like, and where disciples and disciple makers will be raised up and equipped to do what Jesus has called all of his followers to do. Here's a little secret: it's not that complicated.

We couldn’t be more excited about this new trail and those who have joined it with us. We’ve been on it long enough to know it’s not an easy one. And we’ve done our best to count the cost. But once we’d experienced it — once we got it and began to see its impact on ourselves and others — we realized there’s no other trail we’d rather be on.

Maybe you've been sensing that there should be more to this following Jesus thing. Maybe you're frustrated with the ineffectiveness of the church or your lack of personal growth. If so, maybe it's time for a new trail. A new adventure. Maybe it's time to follow the ministry and methods of Jesus and see what kind of disciple he might want to make out of you.

We're on the trail and it would be our privilege to walk it with you. You can reach us at info@reallifearizona.com.