Today’s post is part of the ongoing blog series Discipleship: Re-Imagining Our Calling From Christ that the wonderful Tyler Braun is putting on. I’m absolutely honored to a part of this eclectic group of writers.
I have to confess, when Tyler asked me to write about discipleship, my English-major brain turned to etymology.
I thought to myself:
If my old professors taught me right, the Latin for “disciple” has to be something like discipulus / discipulae, right? A discipulus is a learner. A learner must have a master. Disciples learn. Masters master. I’m sure I could pontificate about this for quite awhile, honey!
Then I thought to myself: Discipleship is a dumb word. It has lost its meaning in our post-post-modern milieu of dying/replanting churches in a non-Christian America. (Yes, I said a non-Christian America. Get over it and start thinking like a humble missionary, American.) What are we to do? Maybe give ‘em some great Henri Nouwen quotes?
I’m afraid that discipleship is a word that makes us squirm, a bit. Mostly because we no longer know what it means, and it is easier to pay it lip service.
Then I remembered a poem I’d listened to that made me squirm, quite a bit. I listened to it on the drive home from the hardest race I’ve yet to run: Ragnar Trails Relay, in Lake Tahoe.
The run was just two weekends ago. Each on our team ran 17 miles per person, through some of the most intensely beautiful mountain trails you could imagine. I cried at one point, it was so beautiful. I almost cried at another point, it was so difficult. The drive home from Tahoe to Los Angeles felt luxurious, especially sitting next to my dear friend Mackenzie, and with one of my favorite poets on the CD player, Galway Kinnell.
PSA: If you have not ever listened to a poet read their own work, please stop everything and find a poetry reading immediately. They make excellent dates, incidentally. (Men, bring the lady flowers. Lady, accept the man’s flowers and let him open the door for you.)
Galway Kinnell has a voice like dark timber that hums deep through in the Sierras. Here is his poem.
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[Photo Credit: Mazzaq-Mauro Mazzacurati]