What a Plumber Teaches us About a Carpenter
Part one of our deep dive into the Biblical principle of obedience-based discipleship.
How much you liked your education has big implications for how you probably feel about being a disciple of Jesus.
If you hated school, for example, you might feel inadequate. Maybe you weren’t a big reader, or maybe you had a hard time sitting still and listening to your teacher for extended periods of time. It’s no surprise if following Jesus feels like a daunting task, with ancient scriptures to parse and sermons to focus on.
But it may not be your fault.
The Western culture that adopted Christianity highly values a style of learning rooted in the acquisition of new knowledge through things like reading and lecturing. It’s a style of learning that can have it’s proper place at times, but many of us struggle with it.
I liked school, and I even found it hard to learn that way.
The Gospel according to Super Mario
I can still remember my first college class. I had made it into my dream university and moved into my dorm eager to start. It was just too bad that my first class of the day was an elective that had nothing to do with my major: Introduction to Mass Communications. To make matters worse, it started at eight o’clock in the morning which—as a nineteen year-old—I found to be obscenely early. No matter. I had my cool messenger-bag full of books and I was ready to learn from my wise old professors.
That’s why it was so disappointing that I kept falling asleep in class.
In my defense, my professor dimmed the lights every day to display his powerpoint as he lectured. I couldn’t help it! Tried as I might, I could not seem to keep my eyes open in his class and day after day I sat in my chair, nodding off as my classmates snickered at the rhythmic sounds of my snores. But that all changed the day I woke up to familiar music from my childhood.
It was the theme-song to Super Mario Bros.
I wiped the drool from my lip and straightened my back. My professor had booted up a copy of the old video game and projected it onto the big screen.
“Okay,” he said. “Can I get a volunteer to play?”
A girl was selected and she sat down, bouncing her way through the first level as he lectured.
“One of the significant things about video games in the media landscape is their potential to be harnessed for education,” he said.
My professor went on to explain that video games are one of the only forms of media that you can put action to, and this makes them a powerful tool for learning. Humans, it turns out, are hardwired to learn by doing. He explained that Shigeru Miyamoto, the designer who created Mario, knew this. He didn’t want to market a game to children that required them to sit and read through a long-winded instruction manual. Instead, he structured the levels in such a way as to teach the player how to play the game, simply by playing the game. The results are impressive.
“How many times have you died, by the way?” my professor asked, as if to emphasize his point.
“None,” said the girl.
“You must be a gamer. How often do you play?”
“I’m not a gamer,” laughed the girl. “I just played this when I was little.”
“And yet after all these years she remembers all the places to jump and dodge without getting hit,” said my professor turning back to the class. “Please read the article about learning-by-doing and email your responses to me by the end of the week. You are dismissed.”
Building a house
If you aren’t familiar with the world of pixelated games, allow me to reiterate my point with another parable. This one is about building a house, rather than a slumbering college kid rudely awoken by an 8-bit plumber...
There was once “a wise man who built his house upon a rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.” (Matt 7:24-25)
However there was also “a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” (Matt 7:26-27)
This story is, of course, one of the many teachings of Jesus. It’s especially relevant here, though, because it is all about obedience to the Word of God. Jesus tells us that the wise man is like a person who hears His teachings, and then puts them into practice. Meanwhile, the foolish man is likened to someone who hears those same teachings but goes home and does nothing, satisfied with the simple acquisition of new knowledge.
This theme of obedience-based discipleship carries throughout the entire book of Matthew.
- In chapter 21, a father is more blessed by a son who does what he is asked, rather than the son who says yes, but doesn’t follow through.
- In chapter 25, Christ’s faithful sheep are those who actively put into practice a love for the least of these.
- In chapter 28, the disciples who obeyed a simple command to meet the risen Jesus on a mountain were entrusted with the Great Commission, despite their doubts.
Obedience-Based Discipleship
What does all this mean for us? Does salvation come from works, rather than faith in Christ’s work on the cross? Are we meant to turn off all the internal workings of our hearts and minds and blindly obey our spiritual leaders?
Obedience-based discipleship doesn’t mean any of these things! Rather, it is a simple recognition that obedience to Jesus is the mark of a disciple of Jesus. Many times, we assume that being puffed up with lots of theological knowledge is the measure of a true disciple. Other times, we think that feeling a swell of strong emotions shows our maturity. But if we take our cues from Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, we would trust that “obeying all [He] has commanded,” is the sign of discipleship.
This is true for us, but also the disciples we are making. So the next time you meet with a seeker or a new believer to help them grow in their faith, don’t ask yourself what they need to know about God. Instead, consider what they need to do with Him.