Companions on the Narrow Trail of Ministry

By Dave Jones

On a cold morning in the Cabinet Mountains of northwestern Montana, a few family members and I started up a narrow trail. To reach the trailhead, we had driven a series of tight switchbacks that hugged the side of the mountain. In a mountain range named for its box-like, cabinet-shaped appearance, we felt a little boxed in ourselves. 

By the time we started hiking, it was snowing. We could see the path right in front of us, but not much more. We knew we were climbing higher, but we had no idea what was beyond the next bend. All we saw was about 20 feet of trail, snow, and each other. 

That hike has become a picture for me of how ministry often feels. You know there are edges where you could fall, but most of the time you can only see a few steps ahead. You do not know what is coming around the corner with your church, your leadership, or your family. 

I felt that “boxed in” feeling on my first day as the minister of the Millwood Church of Christ. I sat alone in my office and watched the cursor blink on a blank monitor. I needed a sermon for Sunday, but instead of sermon ideas, one thought settled in: It is just me. 

There was no staff team, no co-worker down the hall. Just me. 

My days soon filled with visiting older members and sitting in hospital rooms, listening and praying. Many evenings were spent in people’s homes doing Bible studies. I loved those visits and those people. It was a joy to minister to the lonely and to disciple others toward Christ, but I knew that if I was going to serve long term I could not only befriend others, I needed friends, too. 

Besides my supportive and patient wife, two men came alongside me during that time. The first was a retired member of the church who often went with me to hospitals and nursing homes. The other was one of our elders who made a habit of taking me to lunch, listening while I vented, and, when needed, gently correcting what was becoming my complaining spirit. Those friendships were important reminders that ministry is not meant to be done alone. 

That season taught me a simple truth I keep coming back to: Ministry is not meant to be carried alone in front of a crowd, it is meant to be shared with companions. 

Jesus, Rabbis, and Friends 

One of the things I love about Jesus is that he calls his disciples friends. 

He did not sit in a study all week and then appear behind a pulpit on Sundays. He called 12 men and invited them, “Follow me.” In Jesus’ day, that did not mean “show up for a weekly class.” It meant, “Come live life with me.” A disciple followed his rabbi everywhere. They walked dusty roads together, ate meals together, and often slept under the same stars. 

Mark tells us that Jesus “appointed twelve (whom he also named apostles) so that they might be with him and he might send them out to preach” (Mark 3:14, English Standard Version). Before they did anything for him, they were simply with him. On the night before he went to the cross, he said, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. . . . No longer do I call you servants, . . . but I have called you friends” (John 15:13, 15). 

If Jesus made disciples in the context of close friendships, why would we ever think we can lead alone? 

Companions On the Inside: Staff and Elders 

Besides family, the first place we need healthy friendships is among staff and elders. 

Jeremiah Scadden, who preaches at Parkview Christian Church in Wooster, Ohio, recently modeled this well by taking his staff on a prayer, fasting, and planning retreat, giving them space not only to refine their vision for the church but to deepen their friendship with one another. 

I am nearly 20 years removed from that first lonely day looking at a flashing cursor. The church I serve has added elders and staff over the years. Each year the ministers, deacons, and elders from our church travel together to the Person to Person Ministries’ Salt Fork Leadership Seminar. It is a great way to start the year with a focus on church development. For us, it also includes a good meal at a local restaurant and late-night conversations over the euchre table. The seminar feeds our minds; the meals and cards feed our hearts. 

Every Sunday morning our leadership team gathers for coffee. There is no agenda except conversations about life, sports, hunting, and the occasional item of church business. We always close with prayer for one another and the church. It is simple, but week after week it has knit our hearts together. 

We seek to foster friendship among our leadership team and to work through issues until we are united. That commitment was put to the test when a tragic case of immorality surfaced in the church. It shook people and tested our congregation. There were long meetings, broken hearts, and hard decisions. We walked the congregation through that season shoulder to shoulder. On the other side, we had become more than co-laborers; we had become a band of brothers. That experience helped us lead better and prepared us for the challenges that would come as we later relocated to a new church facility and navigated the growth that has followed. 

I have been privileged to serve alongside our associate minister, Zach Rayburn, for five years. We regularly talk and pray together about the future of the church, our theology, and what is happening in our lives. Those conversations have given us a safe place to be honest about our struggles, deepened our thinking about discipleship and local church ministry, and helped bridge our differences in perspective and our 30-year age gap. 

Peter told the elders to “shepherd the flock of God that is among you . . .not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock” (1 Peter 5:2–3). Strong friendship among staff and elders is one of the ways God helps us do that with humility and courage. 

Companions Alongside: A Brotherhood of Ministers 

Early in my ministry, God gave me an older preacher friend named Dick Chambers. Every other week we would meet at a Denny’s. No big agenda. Just two preachers, a pot of coffee, and a couple of hours at a sticky table. I brought my questions and frustrations. Those conversations stayed at that table, which made it easier to be honest. Dick listened without making me feel weak, shared stories from his own scars, pointed me back to Scripture, and befriended me. 

Another friendship God has used is with Moses Hamilton. Moses started as a member of our church and became an elder. Eventually he answered the call to ministry at another area church. Most Wednesday mornings, you can find us sitting over coffee, talking about raising kids, trying to be good husbands, and wrestling with the joys and frustrations of ministry. We’re usually just trying to follow Jesus, minister well, and not lose our minds. 

Some of my best friends are men I met at Hillsboro Family Camp and other brotherhood events. I am especially close to a group of men I have served with at GAP Ministries Preaching Camps. Working side by side, teaching students, and talking late into the night after a long day has bound our hearts together in ways a quick handshake at a conference never could. 

Brian Schulz, who serves as senior minister at Kent Christian Church near Madison, Indiana, has been very intentional about building friendships among preachers. He hosts “Roundtables” at a lodge in Hocking Hills, Ohio, where a dozen ministers spend a few days studying Scripture, talking about ministry, and simply being together. Some are early birds who share coffee in the morning, others are night owls who talk late into the night, but the result is the same, deeper friendships that strengthen ministry. 

I know many preachers who text one another on Sunday mornings with messages of encouragement that remind them that they are not alone in the pulpit. 

None of this happens by accident. If we are going to develop friendships, we have to take the initiative. We cannot simply sit and wait for a text, a phone call, or a lunch invitation. We cannot control who reaches out to us in friendship, but we can take responsibility for our own relationships. 

Companions on the Narrow Trail 

On Sunday, many of us stand in front of a crowd. They know our name, they hear our sermons, they shake our hands on the way out. But when something goes wrong on Tuesday night, it is not “the crowd” we reach for, it is the three or four names in our phone we trust with the truth about how we are really doing. 

You might be thinking, “Dave, that sounds nice, but my church is small and I am the only staff member.” I understand. That is exactly where I started. Do not underestimate what God can do with one or two friendships. One older preacher at a Denny’s. One elder you drink coffee with every Sunday morning. One friend you text before you head into the pulpit. 

Let me take you back for a moment to that snowy trail in the Cabinet Mountains. 

The switchbacks were tight. The drop offs were real. Visibility was low. But I was not alone. If I slipped or got nervous or wanted to turn back, someone was there. 

Ministry feels like that trail most of the time, a narrow path with limited visibility. You do not know what is coming around the next bend. But you do not have to walk it alone. 

In our churches, we care deeply about restoring New Testament Christianity. We should. But part of restoring New Testament Christianity is restoring New Testament friendships, leaders who share not only “the gospel of God but also our own selves” (1 Thessalonians 2:8). 

You do not have to choose between faithfulness and friendship. Jesus shows us we can have both. He is the friend who laid down his life for his friends (John 15:13). He is the Good Shepherd who walks with us through the valleys, often expressing his care through the people he places around us. 

In the end, it will not be the size of the crowd you preach to that sustains you, but the strength of the companions who walk with you. 

Dave Jones serves as the Lead Minister with the Millwood Church of Christ in Howard, Ohio.