Leaving Small Group

Some good friends just left our small group. And they aren’t coming back. 

It’s been a little over six months since we invited them. Over that time we have had them in our home, barbecued together, and vacationed together. We celebrated together and walked through difficult situations together — taking our turns at both high fives and tears. We shared the joys and struggles of marriage and parenting. We pored over God’s Word and poured our hearts out in prayer. 

I guess you could say we shared a good deal of our lives with them during this period of time.

So what happened?

They grew. 

And they left. 

They were supposed to.

It would have been easy to stay. And comfortable too. For all of us. Truth be told, our small group is different now. But — and don’t miss this — so are they. 

They saw the growth in themselves and their relationship with God. They understood following Jesus and being a disciple in a new way — and they owned it. And when they sensed a call, they mustered the courage to answer it. As a result they’ve gone from from invitees to inviters, from participants to leaders, from disciples to disciple makers, and a new small group was born.

Six months ago, they were intimidated by the idea of sharing God’s Word with someone and wondered whether they belonged. Today they are sharing His Word and what He is doing in their lives — and helping others find a place to belong.

The reality is this: they are going to reach people that they never would have reached had they remained in our group. They already have! It’s a big loss for our small group, but a big gain for the Kingdom. And that is what it’s all about: The Kingdom.

What did Jesus have in mind when He called the twelve disciples — and formed the New Testament's first small group? A group that would stay together forever? Or more of an incubator where people would grow for a time before being released? Did they exist for themselves? Or for the purpose of reaching and impacting the world around them? (Jesus’ recruiting invitation in Matt 4:19 may help answer these questions.)

While Jesus and His disciples formed lifelong relationships, the focus was always on impacting others in the same way that Jesus had impacted them. They would carry His message, use His methods, and continue His mission. The future of the Kingdom and the Church depended on it.

Fortunately for us, the original disciples eventually came to understand this.

I was thinking this morning: what would it have looked like if the 11 remaining disciples had simply chosen to keep their tight knit group together and “do life” while waiting for Jesus to return?

Don’t get me wrong, eleven families doing life together and worshipping Jesus is a beautiful thing. But who would they have reached? How would it have had the Kingdom-expanding impact that Jesus intended for His disciples?

What if a small group was the vehicle Jesus intended to use to reach the world? Was it? How would it be different if your small group and your home became the way more and more people were introduced to a life of knowing, following, and being on mission with Jesus?

I can offer some ideas from the past six months. It would look like people growing in their faith. It would look like people finding purpose in the mission of Jesus’ church. Like people taking chances and seeing God use them. Like people discovering the joy of giving themselves away for the sake of another — and then someday releasing that “another” to go and do likewise.

These friends left our small group, but we haven’t left each other. We’re as committed to one another as we ever have been! We will continue to meet regularly to encourage and disciple them, take phone calls when they have questions, gather in our backyard for barbecues, and celebrate what God is doing in and through them. And, over the course of time, we will meet those they have reached and hear the stories of how their lives have been transformed.

This is discipleship. This is being the Church.

The message of Jesus. The methods of Jesus. And the mission of Jesus.

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Interested in reading more about how the early church reached the world around them?

https://churchleaders.com/smallgroups/small-group-articles/285398-early-church-small-groups-larry-kreider.html

A Cautionary Tale

A short time ago I received some unexpected news: my uncle had passed away at the age of 75.  The surprise wasn’t so much in his passing, but rather in the timing.  Eldon was no stranger to health issues and his body seemed to battle several things on a daily basis, including diabetes.  He had been battling fairly well for so many years, it didn’t seem that now would be the time.

Knowing that my aunt would be inundated with calls and messages, I gave it a couple of days and then made the call.  When I found her, she was driving home from a granddaughter’s softball game – a much-needed break from the patterns of thought plaguing her at home.

As I strolled a sidewalk in the fading evening light, she related to me the events of the past several weeks.  She told me how one of his sons had come to Arizona to watch Spring Training baseball. How Eldon had gone to the games with him.  Not just a game here or there, but 14 games in close succession.  And in some very warm Arizona temperatures. 

A nurse herself, my aunt explained that fatigue combined with dehydration had created a dangerous complication with his diabetes, how once he had overcome that another situation arose, and then, ultimately, how pneumonia eventually took his life.  I heard the agony in her voice as she described the decision to remove him from life support.

Eldon was gone.  My aunt was heartbroken.  Children and grandchildren were grieving deeply.  As she laid out the memorial service arrangements, a question triggered in my mind: what story would be told in light of Eldon’s passing?  Clearly his demise had been avoidable if only he had used better judgment.  A whole lot of grief could have been spared if only some moderation had been employed. 

Knowing what I knew of Eldon – including his well-known stubbornness to heed the warnings of his doctors, his wife, or just about anyone else for that matter; his knack for eating the things that were explicitly laid out on the “No, you have diabetes” List; his penchant for doing what he wanted to do rather than what he should do, I arrived at what appeared to be a foregone conclusion.  Eldon’s story, told properly, would be, should be, a cautionary tale.

I was pretty sure I was right.  After all, there really wasn’t anything to challenge my thinking.  He had set the course of his own demise and it was something we could all learn from.

A few days later, I sat three pews from my aunt in a traditional Methodist church.  The memorial service was going just as I had envisioned.  A song, a welcome from the pastor, the funeral liturgy, another song.  And then it happened.  People – the people who knew Eldon best and loved him most – began to talk.  They told stories and shared memories.  Together they told a tale, but it was no cautionary tale of tragedy.  It was a tale of love.

Eldon was remembered – not reformulated or recreated, but remembered – as a man who consistently gave himself to others.  With his time, his talents, his joy, his humor, his smile, his touch, and, yes, his love of baseball, he had consistently given away what he had to share.  The more they spoke, the more I realized how right they were.

The pastor knew Eldon well through his involvement in the church choir and the singing of solos for special events, like weddings and funerals.  He spoke of Eldon’s dedication to the church and the ministry there.  How Eldon always took his calls.  How he could not remember a single instance of Eldon turning down a request to use his musical gifts at someone's special event.  How, despite his declining health through the years, Eldon always came.  First he came more slowly, then he came with a cane, then he had to sit during the singing, but still he came.

Over and over Eldon was remembered for what he routinely gave away – his time, his presence, his gifts, his love, a smile, an encouraging word, a piece of candy.  From what I gleaned, Eldon was never about guarding what he could keep to himself or for himself, but always about how he could bless someone else.

It was in those moments that I realized how well Eldon had actually lived.  Had he lived another way, he may have lived longer.  But while he lived, he had lived well.  And it became undeniably clear that he had also loved well.

It made me wonder… Are we too focused on our own life’s longevity?  And not enough on life’s brevity?  Could it be that we are ignoring Jesus’ advice rather than heeding it?  After all, it was Jesus who said that whoever tries to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will save it. 

Eldon’s life was a cautionary tale all right.  It just wasn’t the caution I was expecting.  As near as I can tell, Eldon hadn’t spent much of his life trying to save it, but he had spent much of his life and he had spent it well.  

“It’s what you sow that multiplies, not what you keep in the barn.”

--Adrian Rogers