Every Sunday when church is over, one of us sends a text: “Who can meet today?” We’re a group of five women, and between us, we have 15 children, ranging in age from seven months to 21 years old. So when we try to get together to disciple each other and talk about the Bible, there’s generally a lot of shuffling of kids and dodging afternoon playdates and activities, even on Sundays. But we keep going. We keep asking the question every week, “Who can meet?” and then whoever can, does.
We do it because it’s one of the most deep-breath, life-giving things that we do in a week. We close the door behind us on all of the noise of life, and we sit in a quiet room together and get really honest about spiritual disciplines, our marriages, our parenting, and how things are going as we walk this narrow road. The thing that makes it so significant is not just the peace and quiet or the adult conversation, although those things are great. This meeting is special and we prioritize it because it’s a way to link arms with each other as we walk in the way of Christ. It gives us a way to know when our sister is stumbling, when she needs a little push or pull in the right direction, and it gives us a beautifully loving place to admit when we are the one who needs someone to pick us up and help us set our eyes on what lies ahead.
This small group is only one part of how God is growing us as Christians and as women, mothers, wives who will endure til the end. But it’s an important part, because there are few places in the church where we can ask for this level of accountability and expect this type of honesty from each other. It’s a place where we can pose harder questions, share the most raw struggles, and build on that foundation of trust and spiritual common ground each week as we know each other more. In a lot of ways, it’s holy ground, this little round table where we crowd in with our chairs, where babies often sit in laps and smile up at us unknowingly. They don’t realize that their moms are seeking the Living God together, but it will show in the ways that we disciple these tender little hearts, in the ways that we make sure they, too, know the power of the Holy Spirit and the endless goodness of the Lord.
Sometimes when God shows Himself during my week, I think, “I can’t wait to tell the girls about this.” Sometimes I don’t know what sort of confession will pour out of me until we’re sitting there together and it just happens. It’s such a small thing, a little group of women from vastly different backgrounds, from different places, at different stages in life, sitting in the quiet on a Sunday afternoon. A small thing, barely noticeable to anyone but us. Yet, it makes all the difference.
The path to godliness isn’t meant to be walked alone. In another few months, this discipleship group will break up, and we’ll split off to pull in other women and form two new groups. In this way, the blessing and joy of loving each other spreads through the church. Even though this quiet ministry of listening, talking, praying, and studying God’s word together isn’t flashy and it doesn’t photograph well for social media, even though it isn’t a program or a prescription for drawing crowds, I fully believe it is the way that God will sustain and build believers who have an undying love for Him and take the Great Commission to heart.
It turns out, maybe quiet discipleship, slow growing, and simple friendship in the midst of life’s struggles is how He makes us more like Jesus. What a pleasant way to face the tough stuff: arm in arm with believers who love you. The answer was right in front of us all along.
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