Having a passion for disciple-making, one of my favorite narratives is that of the apostle John and the young man. The story is intriguing and compelling. It has plot twists, tension, insight, reflection, conviction, accountability, redemption, rescue, and love. Let me provide a summation and two primary observations if you’re unfamiliar with the story.
Clement of Alexandria records the account of John at the end of his writing, “Who is the Rich Man that Shall Be Saved”? (Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 2, Clement, XLII). Clement notes that the account is “not a tale but a narrative handed down and committed to the custody of memory, about the Apostle John.” After John’s exile to Patmos, he returned to Ephesus.
Upon his arrival, he appoints bishops and sets the churches in order. In one of the nearby cities, John finds a young man and assigns him to the care and protection of a bishop. Clement records John’s words, “This [youth] I commit to you in all earnestness, in the presence of the Church, and with Christ as a witness.” The bishop accepted the responsibility, promising to lead the man in spiritual formation as a disciple.
For a time, the young man flourished. The bishop cared for the young man in his home. The man held the testimony of Christ to be true and was baptized. However, over time, the bishop’s protection and accountability for the young man eased; as Clement notes, “he relaxed his stricter care and guardianship, under the idea that the seal of the Lord he had set on him was a complete protection to him.” Unfortunately, the relaxation of care propelled the young man’s demise.
Gathering with other unregenerate youth of his age, the young man committed to an “evil course” that was “corrupt” and wicked. The once devout youth assembled a band of robbers that caused havoc on the nearby mountain highways. Clement asserts the young man “was the prompt captain of the bandits, the fiercest, the bloodiest, the cruelest.”
Time passes, and John returns to the bishop to receive his “reward”—the discipled young man. It is apparent from Clement’s account that John expected the young man to be discipled by the bishop, holding him accountable.
John exclaimed, “I demand the young man, and the soul of the brother!” [The bishop] groaning deeply, and bursting into tears, said, “He is dead.” [John replies] “How and what kind of death?” [The bishops responds] “He is dead, to God. For he turned wicked and abandoned, and at last [is] a robber; and now he has taken possession of the mountain in front of the church, along with a band like him.” Rending, his clothes, and striking his head with great lamentation, the apostle declared, “It was a fine guard of a brother’s soul I left! But let a horse be brought [to] me, and let some one be my guide on the way.”
As the story continues, John is “arrested” by the band of robbers when he reaches the mountain pass. Clement expounds, “neither fleeing nor entreating, [John cried out], “It was for this I came. Lead me to your captain.” When the young man catches a glimpse of the apostle John, he immediately recognizes him and hangs his head in shame. Clement’s words describe the kind of Christ-like love that John exuded:
“Why, my son, do you flee from me, your father, unarmed and old? Son, pity me. Fear not; you still have hope of life. I will give account to Christ for you. If need be, I am willingly to endure your death, as the Lord did death for us. For you, I will surrender my life. Stand, believe; Christ has sent me.”
Of course, the narrative has a good ending. The young man trembles, weeps bitterly, and repents. He returns to the church and is placed back into the bishop’s care, providing him with a second chance. Clement concludes with the young man’s proclamation as a “great example of true repentance and a great token of regeneration, a trophy of the resurrection for which we hope.”
Two Observations
Accountability
While disciple-making is multiplicative and reproducible, it is also two-sided. We know of the expectations for disciples, but there is an expectation that the disciple-maker is also accountable to the Lord. John’s expectation of the bishop indicates an entrusted care and “guard” of the soul. As Ezekiel’s watchman (Ezek. 33) or the parable of the ten talents (Matt 25), there is an expectancy of soul care for the believer.
Clement’s recording illustrates the early church held a view of accountability that probably does not exist today. As disciple-makers, what might we learn from the bishop’s relaxed care of the young man? What safeguards can we establish or develop in the hopes of preventing such a case from occurring? These are all excellent reflective observations.
Rescue & Restoration
Another observation is the selfless love of John regarding the rescue and restoration of the robber. While everyone seemed to accept the fate of the young man turned despicable marauder and “sinner,” John exemplifies the love of Christ—leaving the ninety-nine to rescue the one “lost sheep” (Lk. 15:4). Yet, the story is more than rescue and restoration to the church, it is an account of a man that loved Christ.
John labeled himself as “the disciple whom Jesus loved” (Jn. 13:23). Apparently, John’s actions became empirical evidence of his words. When John proclaims, “I will surrender my life” for yours, he embodies the gospel. Laying down his life for his friends (Jn 15:13), John was willing to die for the lost.
How might this account of John apply to our lives? In what ways have we given up on people that seem “lost”? Again, the story is highly applicable, as are the questions. Yet, I cannot help but feel convicted, even though I have personally put myself in harm’s way for the gospel. The gospel requires us to continually “die” for others (or at least be willing). With that stated, here’s the last and final question: what compels or controls us (2 Cor. 5:14); is it the love for Christ?
Working on my next book project, part of my research encompasses my favorite church planter, St. Patrick. Unveiling the likelihood that the “Apostle of Ireland” may have been the first itinerant-apostle to seriously apply the Great Commission to his missionary endeavors was encouraging.[1] The utilization of the term “Great Commission” is most notably attributed to William Carey. Still, Patrick viewed his missionary efforts to the Gaelic peoples as part of the bigger picture of “making disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:19-20).
Having a passion for disciple-making, church planting, and the gifting of redeemed believers (Eph. 4:11), Patrick’s life enlightens my soul. When researching Patrick and the earlier Church Fathers, it became apparent that the contemporary church misunderstands early missions, missionary roles and attributes, and the foundational importance of the itinerant-apostle.
For clarity, contemporarily, the usage of the term apostle is not without contention. Most often, people equate an apostle with an office. Within biblical Greek, the term apostle (apostolos) means to send. While Christians tend to (rightly) denote the word apostle with the original Twelve disciples of Christ, the word serves a much broader comprehensive function. Interestingly enough, the term carries nautical weight, as a gathering of seafaring ships embarks upon a maritime expedition.[2] The role of the itinerant-apostle/prophet was much like a seafaring entity, leaving one harbor to enrich another.
Early Itinerant Apostle-Prophet
Assuredly, there has been an ample amount of scholarly research concerning the Didache, its authorship, dating, and possible influence on the Gospel of Matthew.[3] While I’ve spent a significant amount of time studying the text, missional disciple-making is the driving force for my interest. Knowing that a first-century disciple-making resource was available to the early church is more than motivational; it’s illuminating.
Without delving into an argument, we’ll assume the abundant scholarly research on the Didache is sufficient. With that stated, the Didache and its “two ways” open the door to understanding the traveling apostle-prophet. Milavec notes, “The oral tradition of the Didache devoted so much attention to the apostle-prophets because it needed to. Thus, they were dealing not with just a rare visit but regular visits.”[4] The wandering prophet in the Didache is uncannily similar to Matthew 10:41.
While the Didache notes the itinerant apostle-prophet should not stay longer than two days to assess honesty and integrity, it is reasonable to assume that they carried letters of authority for lengthier stays, much like that of the apostle Paul (e.g., Acts 9:2; 15:22-29). Regardless, the itinerant-apostle was a traveling servant; this is evident in Paul’s church planting and edifying travels.
Craig Keener notes there were approximately nineteen stops of Paul’s new communities in his second journey. Of the nineteen communities that Paul’s itinerancy logged, he remained in four less than three days, seven less than seven days, and 13 communities less than 14 days.[5] The role of the itinerant-apostle-prophet was more than a mere ekklesia check-up; it was a reproducible disciple-making whirlwind with divine instruction.
It seems highly plausible that Pauls’ role became Antioch’s itinerant apostle-prophet. This credibility exists, as Luke records Paul proclaiming to Barnabas, “Let us return and visit the brothers in every city where we proclaimed the word of the Lord, and see how they are” (Acts 15:36). The itinerant prophet made the rounds to encourage the churches and begin new ones. As recorded in the Shepherd of Hermas, “When, then, a man having the Divine Spirit comes into an assembly of righteous men who have faith in the Divine Spirit, and this assembly of men offers up prayer to God … the man being filled with the Holy Spirit, speaks to the multitude as the Lord wishes.”[6]
As well, Luke recognized five apostle-prophets within the Antiochian church community (Acts 13:1). Most notably, three of these “apostle-prophets were commissioned, being ‘sent out’ to plant new churches.”[7] In the spirit of the itinerant-apostle Paul’s journey to Gaul, Patrick would also employ the itinerant strategy.
Contextualization
While previous historians and missiologists have scoffed at Patrick’s usage of offerings or monetary gifts to gain inroads with tribal chieftains, the ends justified the means. Today, we would equate Patrick’s kingly gifts as contextualization and discernment. Patrick knew the extreme dangers of the Barbarian life.
Having been enslaved to the Celtic people as a youth, Patrick was well aware of the endangerments ahead. Traveling the roads alone was not advisable, not with the marauders and rival tribes. Giving a gift to a tribal king would assure not only safety but a guide, translator, and ambassador. Most of Patrick’s provided emissaries became converts.
Patrick knew the importance of receiving permission to perform discipleship among the small extant Christian communities. Permission would allow him access to the unchurched in neighboring tribes. And, as an itinerant-apostle, Patrick utilized every opportunity.
Itinerant Church Planting
Much like the Apostle Paul’s passion, Patrick was known to move to “new areas” and regions “where the gospel had never been preached”[8] One may doubt Patrick’s journey strategy or impact but could never suspect his motive. In his Letter to Coroticus, Patrick confesses:
I am driven by the zeal of God, Christ’s truth has arrested me, I speak out too for the love of my neighbors who are my only sons; for them, I gave up my home country, my parents, and even pushing my own life to the brink of death. If I have any worth, it is to live my life for God so as to teach these peoples; even though some of them still look down on me.
Church planters are pioneers that pave the way for souls to enter eternity. The impact of the pioneering itinerant-apostle was to bring the gospel and its power to unreached peoples. While the descriptions of Patrick’s life include “many miracle stories … we see that such stories proliferate when the gospel moves into pioneer territory.”[9]
Patrick’s zeal and Confessions show that he was a pioneering itinerant as he moved “from place to place to befriend the various tribal” peoples.[10] As an apostolic-itinerant, Patrick is attributed to planting over 200 churches.[11]However, Patrick wasn’t a mere traveling evangelist; he baptized and discipled an uncountable number of individuals. Some scholars estimate Patrick to have baptized over 100,000 converts.[12] Needless to say, the church needs more like Patrick; it needs more itinerant-pioneers.
[1] Smither, Ed. Missionary Monks: An Introduction to the History and Theology of Missionary Monasticism (Eugene: Cascade, 2016), 57.
[2] Walter A. Elwell and Barry J. Beitzel, “Apostle, Apostleship,” Baker Encyclopedia of the Bible (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1988), 131.
[3] Garrow, Alan, The Gospel of Matthew’s Dependence on the Didache (NY: Bloomsbury, 2004).
[4] Milavec, Aaron. The Didache: Faith, Hope, & Life of the Earliest Christian Communities (New York, Newman Press, 2003), 441.
[5] Keener, Craig, S. Acts : An Exegetical Commentary (Grand Rapids : Baker, 2014), 2298.
[6]Shepard ofHermas, Book II, Commandment 11, Vol. 2, 28.
I have long been intrigued and captivated by the early church. What I mean by early church is the New Testament era and the first two centuries succeeding. I love the narrative of Acts and its apostolic association with “belonging to the Way” (Acts 9:2). I crave for their sacrifice, and for their disciple-making devotion. While I understand that the early was far from perfect and had vast dysfunction—they also possessed dedication, piety, and desire.
Because of my captivation, I find myself diving deeper into the depths of ecclesiastical disciple-making (See Church Planting by Making Disciple-Makers). My journey has currently positioned me within an early document known as the Didache. If you’re not familiar with the Didache (pronounced, Did-ah-key or Did-ah-kay), it is not without its controversies, as it seems to have been lost for fifteen hundred years.
As history notes, in 1873 a Greek Orthodox bishop named Philotheos Bryennios was in the library archives of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem sifting through the early manuscripts.[1] Bryennios wasn’t exactly sure what he had discovered, as the Didache was “sandwiched between other early church documents;” namely TheEpistle of Barnabas, 1 and 2 Clement, 12 letters of Ignatius, and several others.[2] While Bryennios’ contemporaries had common knowledge that Origin and Athanasius had referenced the Didache, many scholars believed that no extant manuscript existed—until Bryennios.
A Little More Background
By the early nineteenth century, the universal church was not monolithic regarding the dating of the Didache. While a small debate ensued regarding the text, some even considered it to be fraudulent. However, with ongoing German and French research, the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran in 1945, and the critical work of Willy Rordorf, the dating of the Didache was credibly proposed as preceding the Gospel of Matthew.[3]
Nancy Pardee believed that the Didache’s early dating demonstrated an “important witness to the composition and development of the New Testament.”[4] She stated, “Such an early date and stature by themselves would make the Didache an important witness alongside the New Testament of the development of the early Church, but the additional fact that the text is of more utilitarian nature means that it does not merely supplement the biblical texts, but compliments them.”[5] Indeed, the Didache does compliment the synoptic Gospels.
Breaking It Down
The Didache itself is only sixteen short and concise chapters (a quick 20 minute read), instructing in the ordinances of the church, prophets, apostles, bishops, and deacons within the church, and some brief eschatological views. I found the section on the Eucharist, “breaking the loaf,” to be incredibly illuminating and missional. With the disciple reciting back the words during the Lord’s Supper (I paraphrase):
“As the seed that produce the loaf is scattered over the mountains,
And then gathered in and became one,
So may your church be gathered together into your kingdom,
The Didache is truly an amazing document, but it was never intended to be equated with Scripture, as it was a practical learning tool (orally taught) for new converts. Perhaps this is the reason for its disappearance? Yet, as someone that thrives to reach the world’s lostness, the Didache’s practical guidance regarding reproducible disciple-making is what I find the most intriguing.
If the dating of scholars is true, as one reads the Didache, the Gospels are immediately apparent. As well, the writer of the Didache notably assumes the reader understands the Sabbath days, rejecting the Roman days of the week with “second” and “fifth days of the Sabbath” being set aside as fast days.[7] Most noteworthy is how the two ways of life are taught to a new convert; once learned, the “disciple-maker” baptizes the new convert, after a day or two of fasting. The reason I find this so noteworthy is its implication for rapid multiplication.
The Way of Life
The first several sections of the Didache are the two main aspects of the “teaching.” In perspective, we shouldn’t be surprised with the Way of Life and the Way of Death as central tenets, as a latter title for the Didache was “The Lord’s Teaching to the Nations through the Twelve Apostles.”[8] The Didache is missional, devotional, and multiplicative. Yet, within the two ways they provide a glimpse into an early devoted and dedicated community—devoted to holiness and dedicated to Christ and one another.
The Didache begins with the introduction consisting of the two ways (1:1) but immediately proceeds with the first four succinct chapters describing the Way of Life. As a believer, I instantly see the value of guiding of a new convert through these first thirty-seven “verses.” The Way of Life begins with the greatest commandment, “You shall love God who created you; second, your neighbor as yourself; all those things which you do not want done to you, you should not do to others” (1:2).[9]
The abstention from “carnal desires” and how to practically treat others is resounding (1:4). Giving is not a motto for the Way of Life but emphasizes God’s generosity to the adherent (1:5). It is easy to see the Ten Commandments interwoven throughout the Way of Life (2:2–7), as well as humility, patience, justice, hard work, and respect for the image of God. The new convert is reminded not to neglect the “Lord’s commands, but to hold fast to what has been handed down to you” (4:13); the very nature of disciple-making!
The Way of Death
Contrasting with the Way of Life, the Didache does not possess any gray area for the believer. You either walk in the Way of Life, or you’re cursed by wickedness—most notably, the Didache does not sugarcoat lasciviousness. Those who follow the Way of Death “do not know their Maker” (5:2). The warnings for the new converts, not to be led astray from the Way of Life, are foundational.
One might assume that the Didache is merely a set of rules and regulations, a means of legalism, but to the contrary:
“If you are able to bear the whole of the Lord’s yoke,
you will be complete.
However, if you are not able to bear that yoke,
then do what you can” (6:2).
In reflection, the Way of Death denotes the “old self” and the ways of the world, but as a student of the Bible, the Didache reads as a mixture between Jesus’ words and Pauls’ epistles. The Way of Death ends in chapter six and is much shorter than its counterpart, the Way of Life. The Way of Death is utilized as a practical guide of admonition, encouragement, and sanctity.
Conclusion
Spending the last several months researching the Didache has been more than rewarding; it’s been enlightening and informative to view an early community of steadfast believers. Without Scriptures, Paul’s epistles,[10] the Gospels, and Revelation, it is eye-opening that such a document could have existed and point to biblical values (i.e. Great Commission teaching). The Didache demonstrates that the early church was not merely concerned with “Jesus loves me this I know” and that’s enough, but with multiplication, perseverance, righteousness, and humility.
The remaining chapters of the Didache are no slouch, either. Understanding its views of baptism, the Holy Spirit, the Eucharist, church administrative structures, and end times may not be prescriptive or inspired, but they are revealing as to how the early ekklesia communities lived out the rhythms of life. Any time the modern church can utilize documents like the Didache, I believe it to be edifying. Again, while the Way of Life and Way of Death are not inerrant and inspired, they are definitely biblical—there’s no doubting their veritas.
[1] O’Loughlin, Thomas. The Didache: A Window on the Earliest Christians (Baker: Grand Rapids, 2010), 4–5.
[2] Milovec, Aaron. The Didache: Faith, Hope, & Life of the Earliest Christian Communities, 50-70 C.E. (Newman Press: NY, 2003), 4.
[10] Even though there is ample evidence that Paul’s letters were circulated among the early churches, early dating of the Didache would predate the over a third of the New Testament, including the Gospels.
There are gads of books written about discipleship.
Why?
The true answer—what we read in the Bible and what see with our eyes is not the same.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the majority of Christians possess an inch-deep faith. Only 20 percent of Christian adults are involved in any form of discipleship activity.[1]
But—I believe change is coming. More believers are opening their eyes to the benefits and obedience of communal disciple-making.
So, what happened?
In the early church, baptism unified new believers with Christ, as disciples under Christ’s Lordship (Mt. 28:19–20; Jn. 20:19–20). By the second century, the church had developed a three-year process of discipleship training, called catechesis, prior to baptism.[2]
Baptism necessitated an examination and call for obedient discipleship. Historian Philip Schaff notes:
We should remember that during the first three centuries…adult baptism was the rule…Hence in preceding catechetical instruction, the renunciation of the devil, and the profession of faith.[3]
Candidates for baptism would partake in the church’s communal teaching, instruction, and spiritual disciplines, but not in the Lord’s Supper.[4]
Disciple-making consisted of the cultivation of spiritual maturity within the ecclesiological community. The early church made disciples in the same manner as the Twelve—they lived out activated faith in communal life—together.
In the infant stages of the church, catechesis specifically related to communal instruction of the disciple-making process.[5]By the late first century, Clement of Rome (c. 35–99), a disciple of Paul (Phil 4:3), provided evidence of following Christ’s Great Commission “commands” to “instruct” baptismal candidates.[6]
By the late second century, Origen (c. 184–253) and Tertullian (c. 155–240), referred to catechesis as discipleship instruction and disciplines.[7],[8]Yet, discipleship still took place within communal gatherings.[9]It was distinctively a shared life-on-life spiritual maturity.
As time progressed, the church formed schools—such as, Pantaenus, a converted 3rdcentury philosopher and highly regarded gospel-proclaimer, who founded a “catechetical school” in Alexandria.[10]These catechetical schools provided a more structured discipleship than a “random outdoor meeting.”[11]
By the early fourth century, the church had received an onrush of enthusiastic converts. With increasing heresies and sects, a move from the Apostolic Tradition to a “specified three-year catechumenate” became the preferred model of discipleship.[12]
Heresies established the classroom style and didactic shift from the communal teaching-gathering. The church desired all new believers to possess “treasured knowledge” of the Eucharist and baptistic doctrine.[13]
The biggest shift
A great change occurred due to heretical teaching, but infant baptism was the catalyst. With the (latter) assistance of Augustine of Hippo and Emperor Constantine marrying the Church to the state, infant baptism became the catalyzing shift.
Baptism became viewed as a “rite of entry into” the communal church.[14]Believers were “born” into the church, instead of the stringent ties of baptismal catechism. Discipleship developed into a study of doctrines instead of a life-on-life baptistic Christ-identified community.
While catechesis evolved into didactic doctrinal training—it was still a form of discipleship. And, for argument sake, could be done in community.
Infant baptism is not to blame for today’s lack of discipleship.
How should we view the shifts?
All of the disciple-making shifts were factors of enculturation. Society influenced the church. I, personally, do not fault what occurred—it is what it is. But, how do we respond?
I think it’s wise to research our past—not for blame, but correction. If life-on-life communal gatherings were the incubator for disciple-making, then let’s shift back.
Sources:
[1]David Kinnaman, “New Research On the State of Discipleship,” Barna Group, https://www.barna.org/research/leaders-pastors/research-release/new-research-state-of- descipleship#.VqDcJFJQmDU.
[2]Michael Green, Evangelism in the Early Church(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 218.
[3]Philip Schaff, and David Schley Schaff, History of the Christian Church,Vol 2. (Grand Rapids: C. Scribner, 1910), 255.
[6]“Clement of Rome,” Diane Severance, www.Christianity.com, http://www.christianity.com/church/church-history/timeline/1-300/clement-of-rome-11629592.html.
[7]Andrew B. McGowan, Ancient Christian Worship: Early Church Practices in Social, Historical, and Theological Perspective(Grand Rapids, Baker, 2014), 95.
[8]Tertullian, “Latin Christianity: Its Founder Tertullian.” in vol. 3 Ante-Nicene Fathers, eds.Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004), 263.
