Walking With Christ

1 Corinthians 3:4–7 (4)For when one says, “I follow Paul,” and another, “I follow Apollos,” are you not being merely human? (5)What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, as the Lord assigned to each. (6)I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. (7)So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.(ESV)

There’s a danger that comes with leading people toward something greater than ourselves. Somewhere along the way, we can begin to believe that the people who followed us belong to us. That their loyalty is ours to keep. That the work God entrusted to our hands has somehow become our possession.

It rarely begins with arrogance. More often, it begins with responsibility. We invest our time, sacrifice our comfort, endure hardship, and pour ourselves into the lives of others. We watch them grow. We celebrate their victories and grieve their failures. We carry burdens that most people will never see. And somewhere in all that faithful labor, a subtle change can take place.

What began as His work through our hands becomes our work for Him.

The difference may seem insignificant. It isn’t.

When Servants Become Divisions

The church in Corinth had a problem. Some believers identified themselves with Paul. Others claimed allegiance to Apollos. Still others preferred Peter.

These men weren’t competing for control of the church. Paul and Apollos were servants of the same Lord, working toward the same purpose. One planted. Another watered. God gave the growth. Yet the people receiving their ministry began treating those servants as competing authorities.

The division didn’t require the leaders to fight. The followers were perfectly capable of creating the conflict themselves.

Paul confronted the problem by asking a question that stripped away the illusion of ownership. What, after all, were Paul and Apollos?

Servants. Not owners. Not masters. Not competing sources of salvation. Servants through whom others had come to believe.

Paul understood something that every person entrusted with spiritual influence must eventually confront: Being used by God to bring someone closer to Him doesn’t make that person yours.

The hands that plant the seed don’t own the harvest.

The Herald and the King

Long before the divisions in Corinth, another man faced a remarkably similar situation.

John the Baptist had been given an extraordinary calling. Before his birth, an angel announced that he would prepare a people for the Lord. His ministry would call Israel to repentance and make ready the way for the coming Messiah. John gathered disciples. He taught them, baptized them, and prepared them for the One who was coming. Then Jesus arrived.

John baptized Him. He witnessed the Spirit descending upon Him. He recognized the One for whom his entire ministry had been preparing the way.

The herald had announced the King. And something remarkable began to happen. People started leaving John to follow Jesus.

In John 1:35–37, two of John’s own disciples heard him identify Jesus as the Lamb of God. They immediately followed Jesus.

John didn’t stop them. He didn’t demand their continued loyalty. He didn’t remind them of everything he’d taught them or insist that they owed him something for the time he’d invested.

He’d prepared them for this very moment. But not everyone understood.

In John 3:26, John’s disciples approached him with a concern. The man John had testified about was now baptizing, and people were going to Him.

There’s something revealing in their concern. They were watching their teacher’s influence diminish, and they saw a problem.

John saw fulfillment. His answer was extraordinary.

John 3:27–30 (27)John answered, “A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven. (28)You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, ‘I am not the Christ, but I have been sent before him.’ (29)The one who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore this joy of mine is now complete. (30)He must increase, but I must decrease.”(ESV)

John described himself as the friend of the bridegroom. He wasn’t the groom. He wasn’t competing for the bride. His joy came from hearing the bridegroom’s voice and knowing that the moment he’d been preparing for had finally arrived.

His joy was complete. Not because his following had grown. Not because his influence had expanded. But because the people he’d prepared were turning toward the One they were always meant to follow.

He must increase. John must decrease.

When Loyalty Becomes a Barrier

Consider what might’ve happened if John had simply folded his entire ministry into Jesus’ traveling company. John was already a recognized prophet with an established following. Jesus Himself would later speak of John’s greatness in extraordinary terms.

Would everyone who followed John have immediately understood the distinction between the herald and the Messiah?

Perhaps. But the experience of Corinth gives us reason to consider another possibility.

If believers could divide themselves between Paul and Apollos, two servants who weren’t competing for authority, could some of John’s followers have continued identifying themselves primarily with John even while standing among the followers of Jesus?

Scripture doesn’t tell us that this possibility explains why John maintained a distinct ministry. We shouldn’t pretend it does. But Scripture does show us that the danger of misplaced loyalty was real.

John’s own disciples were troubled when people began going to Jesus. Later, Paul would confront believers who had attached their identities to the servants rather than the Savior.

The problem wasn’t necessarily with the messengers. It was with what people had made of them. And the danger becomes greater when the messenger begins accepting the loyalty that belongs to the One who sent him.

A teacher can become more important than the truth being taught. A ministry can become more important than the people it was created to serve. A congregation can become more concerned with protecting its identity than fulfilling its calling. And a leader can become so invested in preserving what God has built through them that they forget who owns the building.

Not the walls. The people.

Whose Church Is It?

Jesus made a declaration in Matthew 16:18 that leaves little room for confusion.

Matthew 16:18 And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.(ESV)

He didn’t promise to build Peter’s church. He didn’t promise to build a church belonging to the apostles, the elders, or those who would eventually stand behind pulpits.

He said He would build His church.

That distinction isn’t merely a matter of vocabulary. It is a matter of authority.

Pastors are entrusted with shepherding. Teachers are entrusted with teaching. Leaders are entrusted with guiding, correcting, protecting, and serving. Those responsibilities are real, and Scripture treats them seriously. But responsibility isn’t ownership.

Peter himself would later instruct the elders to shepherd God’s flock, not domineering over those entrusted to their care, but serving as examples. He reminded them that when the Chief Shepherd appeared, they would receive their reward.

1 Peter 5:2–4 (2)shepherd the flock of God that is among you, exercising oversight, not under compulsion, but willingly, as God would have you; not for shameful gain, but eagerly; (3)not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock. (4)And when the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory.(ESV)

The flock belongs to God. The shepherds serve under His authority. And the moment a servant begins treating the people entrusted to their care as personal possessions, the relationship has been turned upside down.

This isn’t a warning reserved for pastors.

Parents can do it with their children. Teachers can do it with their students. Mentors can do it with those they guide. Even friends can become possessive of the people they’ve helped.

We can become so accustomed to being needed that we begin to fear the day someone no longer needs us in the same way. We can mistake another person’s growth for our own loss. John refused to make that mistake.

The Courage to Become Unnecessary

There’s a kind of faithfulness that builds. It gathers people, teaches them, strengthens them, and prepares them for what comes next. But there’s another kind of faithfulness that releases.

It recognizes when the work entrusted to us has accomplished what it was meant to accomplish. It celebrates when someone we’ve guided is ready to walk where we can’t accompany them. It doesn’t demand continued dependence as proof that our labor mattered.

John understood that his disciples were never supposed to remain his disciples forever. They were being prepared for Jesus. And when Jesus arrived, John didn’t see their departure as betrayal. He saw it as success.

That may be one of the most difficult lessons for anyone entrusted with influence.

We want our work to matter. We want to know that our sacrifices weren’t wasted. We want to see something lasting come from the years we’ve invested. But lasting fruit doesn’t always mean lasting prominence.

Sometimes the clearest evidence that we’ve fulfilled our responsibility is that someone no longer needs us to stand between them and the One we were pointing toward.

John didn’t become less faithful when his following diminished. His willingness to diminish revealed how faithfully he understood his calling.

The One Who Gives the Growth

Paul planted. Apollos watered. John prepared the way. None of them could accomplish what only God could do.

The church was never theirs to possess, and the people were never theirs to claim. They were servants entrusted with a portion of a work far greater than themselves. And so are we.

Whatever influence God has placed in our hands, whatever people He’s allowed us to teach, guide, encourage, or lead, we must remember that our responsibility isn’t to make them ours. It’s to help them become more fully His.

That requires humility when people listen to us. It requires wisdom when they depend on us. And sometimes, it requires extraordinary courage when they no longer need us.

The herald was never meant to replace the King. The servant was never meant to become the master. And the messenger was never meant to become the message.

If the people God has entrusted to your influence can only follow Him by continuing to follow you, have you truly led them to Christ?

Or have you unintentionally taught them to stop at the messenger?

Tomorrow, we’ll examine the other side of John’s story. What happens when the assignment that defined your life has been fulfilled, but your life isn’t over? What does faithfulness look like after the purpose you’ve spent years preparing for has finally been accomplished?