What is Discipleship?
Welcome and Introduction
Welcome to my Substack. I’m glad you’re here. This space exists to thoughtfully explore what ‘discipleship’ really means—a word so often used in Christian circles that its meaning has become diluted, even obscured.
I’m so glad you’re here; finding this corner of the internet hopefully kicks off a world of incredible exploration in your life (as it did in mine).
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard someone in church say, ‘We need more discipleship!’ And while it’s hard to argue against such a seemingly noble impulse, it raises a deeper question—have we actually considered what discipleship entails?
The word, “disciple” is so deeply embedded in our Christian vocabulary that its meaning often escapes us.. So much so that we forget how to actually practice it as a concept. What are we practicing? It’s a catch-all term that is used for anything and everything that has to do with spiritual formation. And I mean everything.
Our church doesn’t have enough prayer? More discipleship.
Our church doesn’t have enough volunteers? More discipleship.
People in our community do not understand our core doctrines and beliefs? More discipleship.
Further complicating matters, we hear church leaders speak of ‘discipleship pathways.’ This phrase sounds strategic but finds no real analog in Scripture. The resonance of that phrase reveals our addiction to pseudo-corporate language—our struggle as Evangelical Christians to find places of clarity and authority in church practice. “Pathways” sounds good because it suggests a system of thought, a patterned way to walk through what is otherwise, a very amorphous process of spiritual growth. So it sounds good in principle… in practice, the words are hardly descriptive .
Discipleship has three main components that we’ll explore:
Engaging in apprenticeship to Christ through
an embodiment of His mission and
an understanding of His teachings
Let’s see if we can recover the depth of what discipleship truly is, so that the word becomes not a vague aspiration but a lived reality.
Webster has a starting point. The origin of the word disciple is: “Middle English, "follower of Jesus, one of the apostles, pupil," in part going back to Old English discipul, in part borrowed from Anglo-French disciple, both borrowed from Late Latin discipulus "follower of Christ, apostle" (translation of Greek mathētḗs), going back to Latin, "pupil, learner," of uncertain origin.
So let’s start with the Greek, mathētḗs.
“Disciple” comes from “Mathētḗs”, meaning Student or Follower
Bill Mounce says mathētḗs means “disciple, student, follower; a committed learner and follower, in the NT usually of Jesus Christ.”
That’s where I want to key in—discipleship or disciple has these valences of meaning that reference “student” or “follower.” And I love Mounce’s next definition, “a committed learner.”
John Marc Comer, author of Practicing the Way, spends a good portion of his book arguing that, in fact, the word ‘discipleship’ (unlike ‘disciple’) is never used in the New Testament (i.e., there’s no verb like ‘discipling.’ He’s right, though it’s not an infallible reason to get rid of the meaning of ‘to disciple.’ But discipleship does miss out on conveying the full weight of the meaning behind what Jesus does with his disciples in the Gospels.
Comer argues that a better is, “apprenticeship.” Perhaps to be a “mathētḗs” is more fully conveyed in the word ‘to apprentice.’
I’ll admit that I’m a bit biased. I went to law school and engaged in what still feels very much a system of apprenticeship—possibly less romantic than what you’re imagining though (partners at large law firms aren’t exactly working shoulder-to-shoulder with young associates). The idea, however, is that law school (being a “student”) teaches you very little—it is not until you enter the actual practice that you start to develop a sense of autonomy, a viewpoint about what you’re doing.
Teaching the disciples in strange parables, having them literally walk and sleep near you, instructing them while “on the road,” does have the feeling of being an actual apprentice. And when you think about Jesus’ upbringing either as a carpenter or stone mason, the use of ‘apprentice’ starts to make even more sense.
What gets me is that a “disciple” of someone is simply a believer in that person’s teachings. But a true apprentice must actually “do” things. That is a massive distinction. It’s the difference between going to church on Sunday and visiting a sick person in your church. It’s the difference between intellectually grasping love and tangibly expressing it. The woman who was healed by touching Jesus’ garment had faith but what actually led to healing? Her expression of that faith.
There is a reminder in James that faith must involve some form of action for it to be alive. “But someone will say, “You have faith, and I have works.” Show me your faith without your works, and I will show you my faith by my works.” (James 2:18, NKJV).
So the distinction being made between the word “disciple” and “apprentice” is certainly worthy to consider.
What do you think? Is there a difference in your mind between being a “disciple” of Christ and being an “apprentice” of Christ. I think it’s good to examine.
A Disciple is Always an Apprentice
If we are okay with thinking about the semantics, I argue that a true disciple of Christ is ALWAYS going to be an apprentice of Christ. A true disciple, in the fullest Biblical sense, must also be an apprentice—one who not only follows Jesus in belief but imitates Him in practice. I mean that in the most trade / craft / professional sense of the word. To engage in discipleship is to engage in apprenticeship—or to be someone who not only follows Jesus in their heart, but physically follows Christ. We are to walk in his footsteps.
Not the literal footsteps he walks in the Bible. In the Biblical sense of the word: “He leads me beside still waters.” (Psalm 23:2). He “makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him;” (Psalm 37:23). As embodied people, this means not only a mental or heart assent, it is necessarily a physical assent to Christ.
We are to embody Him on this earth. That is the reason He has made us to be a disciple.
I think that this is often missed or underplayed amongst Christians.
There is a physicality to being a Christian. Christian faith is not merely intellectual or emotional—it is incarnational. It requires our bodies, our presence, our actions. There is a way in which we cannot be Christians if we are not literally moving in the ways in which Christ directs us to physically be.
And I don’t mean that doing sedentary things is somehow not a part of being a Christian. But I’ve never met a Christian who is able-bodied that should not be more physically present in the relationships around them. Never.
It’s like parenting, and parenting is physically hard.
But also don’t miss the psychological reality that how we order our minds and thoughts connects to our physical being. In fact, apprenticeship is meant to push you to think about being a disciple as something that uses your whole self!
Now, let’s tie this back to my original question.
When people say, ‘we need more discipleship,’ they often mean more teaching, more doctrine. Rarely do they mean more foot-washing, more visiting the sick, more meals with the marginalized.
Therein lies the problem. Discipleship is most commonly pictured as a strictly cerebral activity. Indeed, it is the opposite. If discipleship in your church is reduced to classrooms and curriculum, it has veered far from the heartbeat of Christ’s call. Discipleship is not academic—it’s incarnational.
Robert Mulholland famously defined spiritual formation as “the process of being conformed to the image of Christ for the sake of others.” That definition bears repeating—especially the final clause. Christ did not conform us to Himself for personal enlightenment or isolated growth, but for the good of others. And when we look at the Gospels, the image of Christ we’re being conformed to is not of a scholar in a lecture hall, but a healer on dusty roads, a shepherd among the broken, a servant who kneels to wash feet.
While monastic withdrawal may nurture certain dimensions of spiritual growth, it risks neglecting the outward, incarnational aspect of discipleship modeled by Christ. Our faith can grow in meditative solitude but there must be a balance of outward, others-oriented service and love—in other words, a sense of community wherein we do the things Jesus did for those He loved.
Does this mean that the solitary monk is excluded from discipleship? Not entirely—but it means that discipleship, if it ends in solitude, is incomplete. Christ withdrew to pray, but He always returned to love, to serve, to heal. So too must we. The rhythms of inward formation must give rise to outward embodiment.
Discipleship is engaging in apprenticeship to Christ through (a) an embodiment of His mission and (b) an understanding of His teachings.
Hopefully that definition is far enough removed from Mulholland’s to highlight the emphasis on faith that is active, and not simply faith that languishes on the sidelines.
To be a disciple is to become an apprentice in the school of Christ—not only learning His words, but practicing His ways. And that requires more than a workbook or a podcast. It requires our hands, our feet, our calendars, our dinner tables. It requires our lives.
A note on AI: Seeking Christ is a sacred act, one that we are not willing to cede to artificial intelligence. We uncompromisingly do not use artificial intelligence to write our posts. We hope that the genuineness of our writing bleeds through every paragraph.