Part 4 of 4: A Renewed Vision of Discipleship and Life with God
If you’ve followed this journey from the beginning, thank you. In A Kind Undoing, I shared how everything familiar slowly came apart. In The Fog of Disorientation, we wandered through the ache and ambiguity of spiritual unmooring. And in The Return, we explored what it means to name grief, reclaim sacred practices, and seek rootedness again.
Now we arrive at the final post in this series: Beholding and Becoming.
Before we begin, a word to those who feel unsure: If you’ve read this series and found yourself confused or disconnected, that’s okay. These words may not land for everyone, and they’re not meant to. Some of you have lived this. You’ve walked through the unraveling. You’ve sat in the silence. You’ve known the ache of not knowing where God is—and the quiet joy of finding He never left. If you’ve emailed me or commented to say, "Me too," or, “Amen,” thank you. Your encouragement has been a kind companion, especially given how much I wrestled to put this long experience into words.
This season (and, writing this series) has been, for me, a spiritual death and resurrection. And like all resurrections, it was not clean. It was layered and slow. But from it, a deeper vision of discipleship is emerging—one that continues to shape me.
This Isn’t a Finish Line
Let’s begin with this: orientation isn’t the end of the story. If you’ve found your footing again after a long season of spiritual fog, know that more disorientation may come. That’s not failure—it’s formation. It’s a rhythm.
Right now, I’m living that out again. I’m on a sabbatical from my work—a season many would label as restful and refreshing (and it is). But it’s also disorienting. I’m not producing. I’m not performing. I don’t have a neat to-do list to measure my worth. And I’m realizing just how much of my spirituality was built on those things.
It’s like being removed from water and only then realizing I’d been swimming in it. So much of our American Christian culture is shaped by consumerism, performance, and utility. We confuse productivity with faithfulness, clarity with maturity, and efficiency with fruitfulness. We forget that the Kingdom isn’t built like a brand—it’s grown like a seed.
A Better Theology
If we’re going to live differently, we have to believe differently. Theology matters. The way we understand God shapes everything.
I used to approach Scripture with the assumption that my job was to master it. To know what was right, and to apply it accordingly. But what if the goal isn’t mastery—it’s communion?
Keith Johnson, in his book Theology as Discipleship, says:
"Theology is not just for the classroom. It’s for the church. For the everyday formation of people who are learning to live with God."
This is the kind of theology I long for now. The kind that doesn’t just inform but transforms. The kind that starts not with what we know, but with Who we’re beholding.
Dallas Willard wrote:
"The greatest issue facing the world today, with all its heartbreaking needs, is whether those who, by profession or culture, are identified as 'Christians' will become disciples—students, apprentices, practitioners—of Jesus Christ... not just in theory, but in the manner in which they live their whole lives."
Discipleship isn’t a class. It’s a life. A posture. A way of being with Jesus, not just working for Him. And that changes everything.
We see this clearly in the story of Mary and Martha—one busy serving, the other sitting at Jesus’ feet. Jesus didn’t rebuke Martha for her work; He invited her to see that communion, not just contribution, is the better portion. Similarly, in John 11, Jesus meets Martha in her grief and gently shifts her focus. She affirms the doctrine of resurrection, and He replies not with affirmation of her theology but with a declaration of His presence: “I am the resurrection.”
This moment reminds us that while theology is vital, it must serve Christ. Right doctrine helps us see Jesus more clearly, but it is devotion to Him—not a theological system—that transforms us. As Oswald Chambers once said, “There is a difference between devotion to a principle and devotion to a person.”
Faith that does not become intimate connection with Christ can leave us spiritually articulate but relationally distant. We need both truth and tenderness. Both knowledge and nearness. And discipleship that prioritizes relationship with Jesus is what sustains us when our understanding falters.
Beholding to Become
Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 3:18:
"And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory."
We become what we behold.
For years, I tried to become a faithful Christian by trying harder. Now I’m learning to become by looking longer. Fixing my gaze. Staying present. Letting Jesus speak—not just to my behavior, but to my being.
Reading Becoming by Beholding by Lanta Davis was deeply formative for me in this area. It helped me slow down, not just to read Scripture for content, but to experience it—engaging my imagination, my emotion, and my attention. It reawakened a sense of encounter. Not everything has to be dissected to be received.
This isn’t passive. It’s participatory. Co-creation with God means we don’t just wait around hoping for holiness. We make room for it. We open our hands. We till the soil. We stay close to the vine.
You’re Not Behind
Wherever you are: deconstructing, returning, or just trying to catch your breath—you’re not behind. You’re not late. This is not a race.
You’re invited. Not into a program. Not into a formula. But into Life. A life of beholding and becoming.
So we keep going. We keep asking. We keep abiding.
Not because we’ve arrived.
But because we’ve been found.
Reflect: A Gentle Invitation
What version of discipleship were you handed? What parts of it still hold up—and what parts might need reexamining?
How has your understanding of "fruitfulness" changed?
What do you find yourself beholding most these days?
Where are you still striving instead of abiding?
How might God be inviting you to co-create rather than perform?
Thank you for walking this path with me.
Here’s to beholding.
And becoming.