In my late teens and early twenties, I worked a string of blue-collar jobs while trying to figure out who I was and what adulthood was going to look like. One of those jobs was as an HVAC technician, an industry I entered with absolutely no experience, training, or real sense of what I was doing.

What I encountered there was not unique. It is, in fact, painfully common across blue-collar trades.

Most of the men I worked alongside carried an attitude, sometimes unspoken and sometimes bluntly verbalized, that they had paid their dues the hard way. No one had helped them. No one had shown them. They learned through mistakes, injuries, and long days of trial and error. And because that was their experience, they felt no obligation to offer guidance to anyone coming behind them.

Information was withheld. Techniques went unexplained. Corrections were offered only after mistakes were made. And everyone quietly accepted the inevitable outcome: longer training timelines, poorer workmanship, and deeper frustration.

And yet, the dynamic persisted.

There were exceptions. There always are.

A handful of workers operated differently. They saw the bigger picture. They understood that teaching someone else did not diminish their own skill or authority. They freely shared what they knew. Sometimes it looked as simple as giving an instruction and then asking, “Would you like me to show you how to do that?”

That question, small and unassuming, changed everything.

Those men formed people, not just workers.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: the church is not all that different.

We lament the lack of discipleship. We wring our hands over shrinking congregations, shallow faith, and younger generations drifting away. We commission studies, form committees, and host conferences to ask why people are not being formed deeply in Christ.

But if we are honest, we are often holistically unwilling to do even the most basic work required to form people in the faith.

We are reluctant to give of ourselves.

Discipleship, at its core, is not a curriculum problem; it is a posture problem.

We wait for people to ask. We assume they know how. We protect our time, our routines, and our emotional energy. We quietly believe that if someone is serious enough, spiritual enough or committed enough, they will figure it out… just like we did.

That logic may sound familiar.

It is also profoundly unbiblical.

Jesus never waited for people to ask. He called fishermen while they were still mending nets. He invited tax collectors before they cleaned up their reputations. He taught crowds who barely understood what they were hearing. Again and again, Jesus offered himself first.

“Follow me,” he said; not after mastery, not after proof, and not after preparation.

Scripture does not frame formation as a guarded resource to be earned; it frames it as a gift to be given. Paul tells Timothy to entrust what he has learned to “faithful people who will be able to teach others also.” The early church devoted themselves not just to belief, but to shared life; to meals, prayers, teaching and mutual care.

From the beginning, formation required proximity and generosity.

This instinct runs deep in the Brethren tradition. The early Brethren did not survive because they hoarded knowledge or perfected systems; they survived because they practiced radical mutuality, shared leadership, shared resources, and shared risk. Alexander Mack and the first Brethren communities emphasized lived obedience over theological gatekeeping. Faith was learned in community, modeled through action, and sustained by shared responsibility.

Discipleship was never abstract. It was embodied.

And yet today, we often behave as though spiritual formation is someone else’s job. The pastor. The youth director. The denomination. The program.

Meanwhile, many of us carry hard-won wisdom – about prayer, marriage, parenting, suffering, reconciliation, vocation, or simply how to remain faithful over decades, and we keep it sealed. We assume no one wants it. We assume no one would listen. We assume offering it would be awkward, intrusive, or unnecessary.

As an elder millennial, I’ll say this plainly: somebody has to break the ice.

Relationships do not birth themselves. Formation does not happen by osmosis. The seed pod has to crack for roots to take.

And more often than not, those relationships are born through shared work…

Community frequently takes shape not through formal study, but through mutual effort; through serving together; through fixing something side by side; through cooking, cleaning, building, moving, planting, or repairing. When hands are busy, defenses come down. When people work shoulder to shoulder, trust forms naturally.

This is true in churches, in small towns, and in workplaces.

You disciple someone when you teach them something practical.
You disciple someone when you model patience, humility, or integrity.
You disciple someone when you share your story honestly, not impressively.
You disciple someone when you give your time, your attention, or your skill without being asked.

None of this requires expertise. None of it requires permission. It only requires availability.

So here’s the ask:

Invite someone into work you’re already doing.
Offer to teach before being asked.
Serve alongside people, not just for them.
Share what you know freely.
Stay long enough for relationship to form.

If the church wants disciples, then we must become a people who offer ourselves first. We must stop waiting for interest to be expressed and start extending invitations. We must stop guarding what we know and start bringing an offering.

Jesus washed feet before he preached sermons. He fed people before correcting theology. He walked dusty roads with his disciples long before sending them out.

The early church did the same. They learned faith while sharing meals. They practiced obedience while caring for one another. They were formed not through distance, but through daily life together.

Brethren have always known this. Our theology insists that faith must be lived. Our history reminds us that community is formed through shared obedience. Our calling today is no different.

Somebody has to crack the seed pod.
Somebody has to break the ice.
Somebody has to say, “Come with me; I’ll show you.” That is how faith is passed on.
That is how community is born.
And that is how disciples are made

Respectfully submitted,
Patrick Sprague
North Central Regional Leadership Team