It was a dark, fall night at the beginning of the season. Finally crisp enough for a light jacket that might get tossed on the couch as you return to the inside. Daylight savings was ending soon, and with it, the longer evenings of light would soon be a distant memory. We had gathered the whole class together that night, a rare mix of our all-guys and all-girls groups, for a chili cook-off and some quality time as one big gathering.
I had been leading my group of guys for four years—high school seniors now, all bright-eyed and ready to conquer the world, yet terrified about what’s next. In true senior-year, adventure-hungry fashion, they spotted a steel powerline tower in the distance and decided it needed to be climbed.
One by one, they started up. Laughter, dares, and adolescent encouragement pushed each higher until the highest was maybe fifteen feet off the ground when I noticed.
I walked toward them slowly. Not yelling or panicking, at least not outwardly. Just praying and attempting to calculate the distance between everything’s fine and this could go terribly wrong.
I stopped about thirty feet away, unsure what to do. I didn’t have a speech ready. I didn’t have the right words. I didn’t have any inclination of what to do next. I just waited.
How much of life happens like that? We surround ourselves with a variety of people and progress through life without having the right words, or enough words, and definitely not the perfect, movie-script words. Some people are in our lives for decades, while others have only drifted in and out for a season. But all of them have played a part in who we’ve become.
Reflecting on Relationships
When I think back to my own senior year, I can still name the guys that I admired. The guys who showed me what faith and grit looked like. I can recall conversations that shaped how I think about God. I can remember mentors from when I was in my early twenties who gently corrected me when I was already convinced I knew everything. And even now, I find myself watching how friends parent, how colleagues lead, how others love their neighbors. We sharpen each other simply by doing life together.
At times, sharpening has come through a study or a plan, but more often than not, it’s come through the presence of others. Through shared meals, road-trip conversations, late-night prayers, and the simple act of showing up. True friendship, the kind that builds real community, isn’t built in big, dramatic moments. It’s built in thousands of small ones.
There’s a phrase I find myself saying often: “Sometimes the Holy Spirit sounds a lot like your neighbor.” I’ve found it to be true time and again. I’ve yet to find God’s grace and mercy in burning bushes or booming voices, but through ordinary people who listen, challenge, pray, and stay.
Real Community
Real community doesn’t just meet together, it remains over time. Through joy and sorrow, growth and pruning, conflict and reconciliation, community is people who pray together, eat together, grieve and celebrate together. Community stays when it would be much easier to fade away. When we abide as a community, we don’t just exist as people near each other, we become a reflection of God’s love.
Those boys who climbed that tower? That was almost fifteen years ago now. I remember standing in the dark, waiting. One by one, they climbed back down. Quiet now, the cheering subsided, they stood unsure what would happen next. When the last boy reached the ground, we remained there in a silent circle under the hum of power lines. Then we talked. About why they climbed and how it felt. We talked about more than the moments of fear or thrill, we processed what it meant to be seen, known, and safe.
I had earned that conversation. Not that night, but over years of late nights and patience.
I remember when they were freshmen, wild and distracted, running out of rooms mid-lesson, and cracking jokes at all the wrong times. I remember the wrestling matches, the inside jokes, the hard talks, and the tears. Then later, the funerals. The weddings. And now, their own babies.
We grew up together. We became a community that didn’t just meet on Thursdays, but lived into each other’s stories. That fall night, the Holy Spirit sounded a lot like a bunch of senior boys standing under a powerline tower, learning what it means to come back down, to be together, to become.
Four Tips for Intentional Community
If I’ve learned anything since then, it’s this: Community doesn’t happen by accident—it’s chosen, over and over, again and again. It’s showing up when you’re tired, listening when you’d rather speak, forgiving when it hurts. It’s hard work, but meaningful. And worth it.
As I’ve spent more time across college, young adult, and adult ministries, the lesson remains the same: there are no shortcuts to deep relationships. If we truly want a lasting community, we have to put in the work. Be present, lend a hand, answer the late-night text. Discipleship is consistent obedience.
- Show up. I’ve picked up new hobbies, bands, books, and teams to cheer for simply because someone in my group loved them. Learn what matters to the people you lead, and care enough to join them in it. Become a person they want to spend time with.
- Build trust. One of the most meaningful practices I’ve experienced is our question journals. Simple spiral notebooks became our gateways to deep conversations. The rule was simple: Ask anything, and I’ll answer it honestly—and it stays between us. Over years, these journals have become treasured keepsakes and springboards for deeper conversations over morning coffees or late night firepits.
- Coach them. If we want to disciple disciple–makers, we must train and walk beside them. Show them how to study Scripture, lead and teach a group, and encourage them as they step out on their own. Few moments are better than watching someone come alive in leading others.
- Remember your prayers. Recently, our group revisited prayer lists from years past. Some requests brought tears, others laughter, but all testified to God’s faithfulness. We began writing requests on stones, stacking our own Ebenezer as a visible reminder that God has continued to work, answer our requests, and remain steadfast. Our small pile of rocks now speaks louder than words: God is faithful.
This is a small list of practical tips I’ve found to be helpful when building discipleship relationships. Let it be an encouragement to you. May it remind you that our job is to show others the same love that our Savior first showed us (see 1 John 4:19). Love those around you, love them well.
