Why We Make Disciples
What Are You Doing With What You Have Been Given?
There is a question that has a way of cutting through all the noise of daily life and landing somewhere deep in the chest. It is not a question about career or finances or reputation. It is a question about eternity. And it goes something like this: when you stand before the King, what will you have to show for the life you were given?
It sounds heavy. But it is also one of the most clarifying and ultimately hopeful questions a person can sit with. Because embedded in it is the assumption that you were given something worth investing. That your life, your story, your faith — these are not yours to hoard. They are yours to multiply.
A Parable That Still Speaks
In Luke 19, Jesus tells a story about a nobleman who prepares to travel to a distant country to receive a kingdom for himself. Before leaving, he calls ten of his servants and gives each of them the same amount of money — one mina. His instruction is simple and direct: do business with this until I come back.
The nobleman in the story represents Jesus himself. He was physically present with his disciples, and then he departed. He is coming back. And in the meantime, we live in the space between the giving and the returning — the in-between time where the real work happens.
The servants represent every person who has received the gospel. Not just pastors. Not just elders or deacons or Sunday school teachers. Every believer. The message of salvation, the hope of Jesus Christ, the experience of grace that changed your life — that is the mina. That is what has been placed in your hands. And the instruction is the same as it was two thousand years ago: do business with this until I come.
The Accounting That Is Coming
When the nobleman returns, he has received his kingdom. He is no longer just a wealthy traveler. He is a king. And the first thing he does is call his servants to account.
The first servant reports that his one mina has earned ten more. The king's response is immediate and warm: well done, good servant. Because you were faithful in a very little, you will have authority over ten cities.
The second servant comes forward. His mina has earned five more. He too is rewarded, in proportion to what he produced.
What is striking here is that the reward is not given for effort alone. It is not given for busyness or sacrifice or years of tireless service. It is given for fruitfulness. For actual, measurable impact in the lives of others. Jesus himself said in John 15 that the Father is glorified when we bear much fruit — and that fruit-bearing is the mark of a true disciple.
The Servant Who Played It Safe
Then comes the third servant. He walks up and presents the original mina, untouched and unchanged. He kept it wrapped in a cloth, safe and protected. His explanation is revealing: he was afraid. He thought the master was a harsh man, demanding and exacting. So he did nothing.
And here is where the parable becomes uncomfortably personal. Because this servant's logic sounds familiar. It sounds like the voice that says, I do not want people to think I am strange. Or, I am not qualified to talk about faith with anyone. Or, Jesus will build his church — that is his job, not mine.
The servant did not lose his faith. He was still a servant. But he lost the reward that had been prepared for him. Everything that the king had set aside to give him was redistributed to the one who had been most faithful.
The apostle Paul understood this same reality. In 2 Corinthians 5, he writes that we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body. And knowing that sobering truth, Paul says he is compelled — driven, propelled — to persuade people about Jesus. The same reality that paralyzed one servant became the fuel that launched Paul into a life of relentless discipleship.
Three Reasons to Make Disciples
The parable quietly gives us three reasons why this work of discipleship matters so deeply.
First, Jesus commanded it. The great commission in Matthew 28 is not a suggestion for the spiritually gifted. It is a mandate for the royal priesthood — which, according to 1 Peter 2:9, is every single person who has been called out of darkness into God's marvelous light.
Second, we will be held accountable for it. Not in a way meant to crush us with guilt, but in a way meant to awaken us to the weight and the beauty of what we carry. We have been entrusted with something that matters eternally. That truth should move us.
Third, and perhaps most urgently, the people around us depend on it. The parable ends with the king calling back those who rejected him, and the consequences are severe. The implication is clear: the smaller that number, the better. And the only way that number shrinks is if the servants do their work — if the holy nation goes out and invests what it has been given into the lives of people who have not yet heard.
What Does This Look Like in Practice?
It does not require a pulpit or a ministry title. It requires a willingness to be known as someone who follows Jesus. It might mean inviting someone to church. It might mean praying faithfully for a neighbor or a coworker. It might mean sitting across a table from someone who is struggling and telling them what God has done in your life.
Every believer should be discipling someone. And the measure of success is not how long the process takes or how polished the method is. It is whether the person you are walking with eventually begins walking alongside someone else.
The mina has been placed in your hands. The King is coming back. The question is not whether the accounting will happen. The question is what you will have to bring when it does.
There is a question that has a way of cutting through all the noise of daily life and landing somewhere deep in the chest. It is not a question about career or finances or reputation. It is a question about eternity. And it goes something like this: when you stand before the King, what will you have to show for the life you were given?
It sounds heavy. But it is also one of the most clarifying and ultimately hopeful questions a person can sit with. Because embedded in it is the assumption that you were given something worth investing. That your life, your story, your faith — these are not yours to hoard. They are yours to multiply.
A Parable That Still Speaks
In Luke 19, Jesus tells a story about a nobleman who prepares to travel to a distant country to receive a kingdom for himself. Before leaving, he calls ten of his servants and gives each of them the same amount of money — one mina. His instruction is simple and direct: do business with this until I come back.
The nobleman in the story represents Jesus himself. He was physically present with his disciples, and then he departed. He is coming back. And in the meantime, we live in the space between the giving and the returning — the in-between time where the real work happens.
The servants represent every person who has received the gospel. Not just pastors. Not just elders or deacons or Sunday school teachers. Every believer. The message of salvation, the hope of Jesus Christ, the experience of grace that changed your life — that is the mina. That is what has been placed in your hands. And the instruction is the same as it was two thousand years ago: do business with this until I come.
The Accounting That Is Coming
When the nobleman returns, he has received his kingdom. He is no longer just a wealthy traveler. He is a king. And the first thing he does is call his servants to account.
The first servant reports that his one mina has earned ten more. The king's response is immediate and warm: well done, good servant. Because you were faithful in a very little, you will have authority over ten cities.
The second servant comes forward. His mina has earned five more. He too is rewarded, in proportion to what he produced.
What is striking here is that the reward is not given for effort alone. It is not given for busyness or sacrifice or years of tireless service. It is given for fruitfulness. For actual, measurable impact in the lives of others. Jesus himself said in John 15 that the Father is glorified when we bear much fruit — and that fruit-bearing is the mark of a true disciple.
The Servant Who Played It Safe
Then comes the third servant. He walks up and presents the original mina, untouched and unchanged. He kept it wrapped in a cloth, safe and protected. His explanation is revealing: he was afraid. He thought the master was a harsh man, demanding and exacting. So he did nothing.
And here is where the parable becomes uncomfortably personal. Because this servant's logic sounds familiar. It sounds like the voice that says, I do not want people to think I am strange. Or, I am not qualified to talk about faith with anyone. Or, Jesus will build his church — that is his job, not mine.
The servant did not lose his faith. He was still a servant. But he lost the reward that had been prepared for him. Everything that the king had set aside to give him was redistributed to the one who had been most faithful.
The apostle Paul understood this same reality. In 2 Corinthians 5, he writes that we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body. And knowing that sobering truth, Paul says he is compelled — driven, propelled — to persuade people about Jesus. The same reality that paralyzed one servant became the fuel that launched Paul into a life of relentless discipleship.
Three Reasons to Make Disciples
The parable quietly gives us three reasons why this work of discipleship matters so deeply.
First, Jesus commanded it. The great commission in Matthew 28 is not a suggestion for the spiritually gifted. It is a mandate for the royal priesthood — which, according to 1 Peter 2:9, is every single person who has been called out of darkness into God's marvelous light.
Second, we will be held accountable for it. Not in a way meant to crush us with guilt, but in a way meant to awaken us to the weight and the beauty of what we carry. We have been entrusted with something that matters eternally. That truth should move us.
Third, and perhaps most urgently, the people around us depend on it. The parable ends with the king calling back those who rejected him, and the consequences are severe. The implication is clear: the smaller that number, the better. And the only way that number shrinks is if the servants do their work — if the holy nation goes out and invests what it has been given into the lives of people who have not yet heard.
What Does This Look Like in Practice?
It does not require a pulpit or a ministry title. It requires a willingness to be known as someone who follows Jesus. It might mean inviting someone to church. It might mean praying faithfully for a neighbor or a coworker. It might mean sitting across a table from someone who is struggling and telling them what God has done in your life.
Every believer should be discipling someone. And the measure of success is not how long the process takes or how polished the method is. It is whether the person you are walking with eventually begins walking alongside someone else.
The mina has been placed in your hands. The King is coming back. The question is not whether the accounting will happen. The question is what you will have to bring when it does.
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