My primary responsibility at Revolution Church is discipleship, and it’s an awful job! I don’t mean that the way it sounds. It’s actually a great job. I love working with our folks and encouraging their growth in Christ. But it’s an awful job in the sense that it can’t be a “job” at all. Discipleship isn’t a program, a checklist. There’s no simple step-by-step process. That’s especially true when the people I meet with each week are recovering addicts, struggling artists, and anxiety ridden young ladies. Discipleship for them (actually for all of us) is a long process of doing life with other believers. Sadly most people try to classify discipleship as a “ministry” with some technical approach, strategy, and quantifiable results. Author Ted Kluck knows better. His first-hand account of a discipleship relationship in his latest book reveals such knowledge. Dallas and the Spitfire is not just simply a compelling, gritty, humorous, and endearing book, it’s the best book on discipleship that I’ve read in a long while. That’s partly because it’s not a book attempting to give us a methodology, rather it’s a book trying to encourage us to keep at what is a really frustrating calling.
The jacket cover reads:
Ted is a thirty-four-year-old father of two who’s been going to church his whole life. Dallas is a twenty-one-year-old former cocaine addict with a prison record. When they agree to meet regularly for “discipleship,” they know that chatting once a week in a coffee shop just won’t cut it.
The book outlines for us why a coffee-meeting just won’t cut it for Ted and Dallas. Some of it is the simple fact that these are two gritty dudes who don’t really do sitting around coffee shops chatting about their feelings. They like boxing and cigars. Dallas also likes fixing old cars and so much of the book revolves around the two of them fixing up an old Triumph Spitfire, an early 60s British sports car. Don’t let that fool you, though. While those parts of the book are interesting (thanks mostly to Ted’s lack of car knowledge and witty writing), and while I did want to buy my own car and restore it after reading this, the book, nonetheless, is really about their relationship.
The other reason why chatting over coffee doesn’t work is because Dallas needs more than just a once-a-week check-in. He needs a real relationship with a real guy who can not just be an “accountability partner” but who can be a friend. Dallas is a young Christian still in recovery from alcohol and cocaine addiction. He needs more than just an encouragement to stay clean and follow Jesus, he needs a friend who will stay up late worrying about him, take his calls at random times during the day, and who will advocate for him. That’s where we start to get a real picture of what genuine discipleship looks like.
I’ve read a lot of books on discipleship. There are plenty of great ones to choose from. Most talk about strategies for teaching and multiplying your disciples. Many do some really great exposition of the discipleship of our Lord Jesus. But very few are honest about how difficult and time-consuming discipleship really is. I am not just speaking as a pastor, either. Ted Kluck is a writer and a father. And yet he readily admits that at times he is spending more time with Dallas than with his wife or sons. One particular incident stands out, Kluck writes:
My wife had purchased a bottle of wine, brought home sushi, and lit a candle. If you’re a married guy and you’re reading this, you know exactly what this means: It’s on. The fact that It’s On means that I can’t spend half the evening on the phone with Dallas….The phone rings again. I look at her and she looks at me. This is something of a moment of truth. It’s a moment that says, “You’re really good at making all of your friends feel loved and affirmed, partly because you’re willing to listen to their calls and talk to them at all hours of the day/night, but you need to let this one go.” I envision Dallas sitting outside a crack house or in a ditch somewhere. I press the talk button…Downside: Kristin is reading a book, the candle has been extinguished, and the moment, unfortunately for me, has passed. I’m again reminded (the hard way) that discipleship is more than a bi-weekly cup of coffee. (137-138)
I can relate. Ted gives us the “difficult reality check”. Quoting his wife, he writes, “I feel like every sad and confused young male in the greater Lansing area sometimes gets more access to you than I do” (153). Discipleship is hard on all of us when it’s done right.
I loved this book. It is funny. Kluck has a sharp wit throughout it. He mocks himself; he mocks old school fundamentalists. He also takes some playful jabs at the Reformed community; an equally worthy target. The book is also engaging. Dallas’ story is compelling and his and Ted’s personal growth is moving and inspiring. But more than anything what I loved about this book was its brutal honesty about how frustrating discipleship can be, and yet how utterly fulfilling it is. Justin Taylor’s endorsement of the book reads:
At the risk of embarrassing these nitty-gritty guys, this is ultimately a story about love – learning to love God when life is hard and to love each other as brothers.
That’s a good summary of what is a great book on discipleship. I think too that these are the two key pieces missing from most discipleship books. I am all for books on strategy and methodology, and certainly on exposition of Scripture. But I think more books on discipleship need to be honest about the difficulties of genuine discipleship and the necessary quality of love.
Dallas and the Spitfire is a book worthy of your time. And if you’re a guy in pastoral ministry focusing on discipleship this should be a priority read for you this year! Remind yourself that while you may call discipleship your “job” or your “ministry,” the truth is that it has to be so much more or it won’t be effective at all.
Sparrow & Heart Soul Care 
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