“You’re Not Qualified — and That’s Exactly Who God Wants” Acts 18:18-28
I didn’t grow up in church, or going to Sunday School, or VBS, or with a discipleship plan published by Zondervan.
No, God just kind of… ambushed me.
It started in my backyard. Just me, standing under the Illinois sky, having a full-blown confrontation with the God who created the universe. I was just overwhelmed by the reality that He was real — There was a God and I was not Him.
That was my “come to the Lord” moment. It was 1978 and I was 14 years old.
So I started reading the Bible. Had no idea what I was doing, but I was hooked—the Gospel of Matthew introduced me to Jesus. Now I knew God’s name, and that He loved me. Cool.
I started going to church.
I met Rico the Christian Hippy there. He was my Sunday School teacher, and he talked about Jesus like an old friend—he introduced me to Christian rock. He showed me what following Jesus was about. He was also a carpenter and hired me as an apprentice.
I shared what I knew about Jesus with everyone I knew. My family came to faith. Some of my classmates—including a cute little cheerleader named Kim. I went to a Bible College, met a lot of people who helped me grow.
Moved to Texas in 1987 and met Kemper. He discipled me through many long conversations, and by throwing lots of books at me — I even read most of them.
Then in 2005, along came a young seminarian named Matt Popovits. Matt discipled me in leadership and what it means to see the Gospel from an apostolic perspective, A.K.A. Lutheran—he also threw a lot of books at me. “Leaders are readers!”
Add all that all up, God’s been discipling me through different people for going on fifty years. But here’s the thing — none of them were the full package. They each had a piece. Each one played their part.
That’s how discipleship works. Nobody’s got it all. God uses a chain of imperfect people to form His perfect Church.
And that’s going to be true for all of us.
None of us got here by accident. Someone prayed for you. Someone took the time to teach you something about faith—show you what it looks like to be a Christian.
But most of us, when we hear “discipleship,” we think of something official. Some fancy Bible study with binders and a twelve-week syllabus.
But in the Book of Acts, discipleship is more organic. It’s people walking with people. People sharing what they know, learning from others, filling in the blanks.
And that’s the picture we see in Acts 18:18–28 — a chain reaction of discipleship that starts with Paul, passes through Priscilla and Aquila, and ends up lighting a fire under a young preacher named Apollos.
Nobody in this story is the whole package — but everyone does their part.
That’s the kind of church we’re called to be.
At NewChurch, if I’m not here, if Kemper’s not here — the mission shouldn’t slow down. We shouldn’t miss a beat—because disciples make disciples—who make disciples.
We’ve been going through the Book of Acts line by line, today we’re in chapter 18…
“After this, Paul stayed many days longer and then took leave of the brothers and set sail for Syria, and with him Priscilla and Aquila. At Cenchreae he had cut his hair, for he was under a vow.” Acts 18:18
This verse seems like a travel log — Paul books a ticket to Syria, takes his new friends, and stops for a haircut. But there’s actually a lot going on here.
First, the haircut. Paul had made a vow — likely a Nazirite-style vow, a temporary season of extra dedication to God. Under that kind of vow, you wouldn’t cut your hair or drink wine until it was fulfilled. So cutting it meant the vow was complete.
Paul was probably thanking God for protecting him in Corinth—a way of saying, ‘God, You kept Your promise, and I’m keeping mine.’
Notice: even though Paul is the great apostle to the Gentiles, he still retains his Jewish heritage. He’s not erasing where he came from; he’s just pointing it all toward Jesus.
And there’s a discipleship lesson right there — being a disciple doesn’t mean you stop being you. It means you give all of who you are to Jesus. Paul’s cultural identity didn’t disappear; it was redeemed. Like Rico the Christian Hippy—following Jesus didn’t mean cutting his hair and trimming his beard to look like a cookie-cutter Christian.
“And they came to Ephesus, and he left them there, but he himself went into the synagogue and reasoned with the Jews.” Acts 18:19
Ephesus was a major city—full of trade, art, and the world-famous Temple of Artemis, one of the seven wonders of the world.
Paul stops there just long enough to visit the synagogue. The word for “Reasoned” is the Greek word dialegomai, where we get “dialogue.” Paul wasn’t yelling at people; he was engaging them, dialoging. Asking questions. Making the case for Jesus.
He leaves Priscilla and Aquila behind in Ephesus. Why? Because Paul knows the mission can’t depend on him alone. He plants, let’s someone else water, and God gives the growth. That’s discipleship in motion — multiplication through trust and letting other people lead.
“When they asked him to stay for a longer period, he declined.” Acts 18:20
The new believers in Ephesus wanted Paul to stay. They were interested in learning more. But he said no.
That’s hard to do. Saying no to good opportunities.
But Paul probably wanted to get back to Jerusalem for the festival of Pentecost—he also trusted the Spirit to guide him. Sometimes discipleship means saying no to what looks good in order to say yes to what God says is better.
“But on taking leave of them he said, ‘I will return to you if God wills,’ and he set sail from Ephesus.” Acts 18:21
That’s humility. He doesn’t assume he’ll be back; he leaves it in God’s hands.
“If God wills.” We throw that phrase around (Lord willing and the creek don’t rise), but Paul meant it. His life was one long ‘Lord, where You lead me, I will follow.’
That’s the posture of a disciple. Plans should always be held in open hands. Loosely. We make plans but also let God direct our steps.
“When he had landed at Caesarea, he went up and greeted the church, and then went down to Antioch.” Acts 18:22
That short sentence covers hundreds of miles and a major chapter of Paul’s life. Caesarea was the port city in Judea, and “going up” meant going up to Jerusalem — because no matter where you are, going to Jerusalem is always going up.
So, Paul goes up and greets the mother church in Jerusalem — then returns to Antioch, which was his mission HQ, the church that originally sent him out. This finishes his second missionary journey.
Here’s a discipleship insight hidden in this travel log: Paul goes home. He reports back. He’s accountable to his home church. Paul wasn’t a Lone Ranger, he had community.
“After spending some time there, he departed and went from one place to the next through the region of Galatia and Phrygia, strengthening all the disciples.” Acts 18:23
This is Paul’s follow-up tour. No new cities. No dramatic revivals. Just strengthening existing disciples. Checking in on all the friends he made along the way.
That’s something we need to hear today.
Because so much of church culture is obsessed with the next big thing — the next crowd, the next campus, the next trend. But Paul’s focused on the people already there. We can get so focused on the people who aren’t here that we forget to pay attention to the ones who are.
The Greek word for “strengthening” means to make firm—to build up. It’s discipleship, he’s building people, not just attendance. Growing deeper.
Discipleship is about stability — helping each other stand when the world tries to shake us down.
Then Luke shifts the camera—cuts to a new character…
“Now a Jew named Apollos, a native of Alexandria, came to Ephesus. He was an eloquent man, competent in the Scriptures.” Acts 18:24
Apollos — brilliant guy. From Alexandria, which was basically the Harvard of the ancient world. He’s well-educated, knows his Bible, articulate, and passionate.
He’s not a new convert — he’s already a believer in Jesus. But his theology is incomplete.
“He had been instructed in the way of the Lord. And being fervent in spirit, he spoke and taught accurately the things concerning Jesus, though he knew only the baptism of John.” Acts 18:25
So, Apollos knows about Jesus but his knowledge was limited to what he learned from the disciples of John the Baptist. He knows John’s baptism of repentance — he knows Jesus is the Messiah, and he taught accurately about Him. He was baptized and fervent in spirit—meaning the Holy Spirit was moving him, he was saved, but he hadn’t learned the fullness of what Christian baptism was all about. He was probably hammering people about getting their life in order. Preaching like, “You brood of vipers! Repent! And start acting like you mean it.”
This is like someone today who loves Jesus but doesn’t really understand grace—someone who believes in the cross but thinks salvation depends on their own performance. They think baptism is something we do to show God how much we mean it, rather than understanding it’s something God does to us to connect us to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus—something God does to show us how much He means it.
Apollos was sincere, smart, and overflowing with the Spirit — but his theology was incomplete.
Just like us sometimes. We can be saved, passionate but still have blind spots. That’s why we need each other. We all need to be discipled.
So, Apollos walks into Ephesus ready to rock the place—goes to the synagogue to tell people about Jesus…
“He began to speak boldly in the synagogue, but when Priscilla and Aquila heard him, they took him aside and explained to him the way of God more accurately.” Acts 18:26
This verse is gold.
Notice what they don’t do. They don’t interrupt and correct him mid-sermon in front of everyone. “Well, actually Mr Apollos…actually…” They don’t post a takedown reaction video on YouTube. They see that he’s missing some important concepts, take him aside — privately, gently — and teach him.
They correct with humility, not hostility and pride. And Apollos is open to being corrected and learning. That’s what mature disciples do.
Notice: it’s Priscilla and Aquila now. The order is reversed from earlier — which probably means Priscilla was the more prominent teacher in this moment.
She’s an incredible example of a woman using her gifts to build up the church.
And their home becomes a discipleship hub. Amazing to think about it — this is how discipleship happens—at kitchen tables. In conversations. And they’re not just pouring into Apollos for Apollos’ sake, they’re making a disciple who’s going to make disciples…
“And when he (Apollos) wished to cross to Achaia, the brothers encouraged him and wrote to the disciples to welcome him. When he arrived, he greatly helped those who through grace had believed.” Acts 18:27
We already see the fruit. Apollos is discipled, strengthened, and can’t wait to be sent out. He goes to Achaia, where Corinth is located, and he can’t wait to tell them all about grace.
That’s discipleship multiplication — Paul → Priscilla & Aquila → Apollos → the Church in Corinth. Each one doing their part. Each one helping someone else take the next step.
So, what did Apollos do there?
“For he powerfully refuted the Jews in public, showing by the Scriptures that the Christ was Jesus.” Acts 18:28
Apollos uses his giant brain, Bible knowledge, and amazing oratory skills to help Jews see that the Scriptures all point to Jesus. He goes from needing correction to powerfully proclaiming Jesus—from being corrected to correcting. That’s the transformation discipleship brings.
When we strengthen others, they become the strength someone else needs. We give away what we receive.
The problem is… we usually don’t.
We listen to sermons, go to small groups, read our freakin’ Bibles, listen to podcasts — and that’s all good — but it’s all for ourselves! We rarely think, “Who am I sharing all these things that have been poured into me with? Who am I discipling?”
We think discipleship is what someone needs to do for us.
We think discipleship is someone else’s job.
Some professional Christian.
Or at least a proper leader. We think…
“I’m not qualified.”
“I don’t know enough Bible.”
“I’m not good with people.”
You think you’re not qualified? Perfect. God’s been running His church on unqualified people since day one! Jesus started with fishermen, not religious leaders.
Discipleship isn’t about expertise. It’s about obedience. Relationships.
If you’ve experienced God’s grace, you have everything you need.
When we refuse to disciple others, we stop the chain that Jesus started in us. We ignore Him when He said, “Go and make disciples of all nations.” When we don’t pour into others, we’re like a sponge that never gets wrung out — eventually we start to stink.
The good news for all of us is — Jesus doesn’t use perfect disciples to make disciples.
He uses the willing, He uses sinners saved by grace.
Paul wasn’t perfect. He had a temper and a thorn in the flesh. Said he was the chief of sinners.
Priscilla and Aquila weren’t seminary grads — they were tentmakers with open hearts and an open front door.
Apollos was walking around preaching before he even knew what Christian baptism and grace were all about.
Yet through them, the Gospel spread across time and space all the way to you and me.
Because the power of discipleship isn’t in the disciple. It’s in the Holy Spirit.
Jesus said, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” That’s His promise to every disciple who steps into the mission to make more disciples.
When you teach your kids to pray, when you invite someone to church, when you invite them over after church, when you pray with a friend who’s struggling — you’re part of that same chain.
You’re standing in a line that goes back through Apollos, Priscilla and Aquila, through Paul, all the way to Jesus Himself.
We’re all grace in motion.
So what does this mean for us — for NewChurch, for your home, for your week ahead?
It means you have a part to play.
You might not be Paul or Apollos. But you’re someone’s Priscilla or Aquila.
And discipleship starts at home. We don’t just want our family to believe in God, or even to just believe in Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. We want them to love God. To love Jesus. To love His commandments and the standard He calls us to live by—not because we’re trying to earn approval, but because we already have it. We want our family to know they don’t have to earn God’s love any more than they have to earn ours. And the way they’ll learn that is by watching us love God out loud.
It should never be a question of whether we’re going to church this week or not—it’s just what we do—not out of obligation but because we love being here. They should know that when we miss Sunday worship that’s a bad day. They need to know why we love our church — why it matters to us. That we’re not just showing up, but showing love. Supporting it. Encouraging our friends here. Being part of what God is doing in this place — through all of us. Because when they see that it matters to you, it’ll start to matter to them. And sure, when they’re young, we might have to carry them here, drag them here—but the goal is that one day, they’ll want to. They’ll drag us here! They’ll be here for their own reasons—to worship, to encourage their friends—and not just their friends—but also to show love to the older people who have been faithfully showing up for years. Some of our older saints would love for a young person to strike up a conversation with them—show them they’re not invisible and the youth of today are going to keep the Gospel moving forward. That’s what church family looks like—one generation loving the next, and the next learning to love back.
And then after church, at lunch, or later in the afternoon—the whole family needs to talk about what they heard in the sermon, in The Journey, in YoungOnes. Process it together. That’s how faith becomes real at home and how love for God gets passed from one generation to another. That’s the heartbeat of discipleship.
That’s what discipleship looks like — faith that overflows. Not just at church and at home—It’s the same in every part of our lives.
It takes courage. It takes intentionality. And it takes understanding that it’s not just about what we get out of it.
When we stop making our faith all about us, and start making it about someone else, something amazing happens. Our courage grows. Our faith deepens. The more we give it away, the more we have. It’s just how it works.
A fellow pastor friend of mine—let’s call him “Jason”… because that’s his actual name—was on a ministry retreat with me a few weeks ago. He’s also the Circuit Visitor for our area of churches, which is kind of like being the “pastor to pastors” in our circuit.
So we’re out on this pontoon boat, taking in the beauty of the mountains just outside Yellowstone in Montana. Gorgeous place—we pull up next to this cliff that people climb and jump into the water. It’s about thirty feet high. Not for the faint of heart. Looked to me like a big ol’ pile of “No thanks.”
But of course, some of the guys jump out of the boat and start climbing. One of them, reluctantly, is my friend Jason.
He gets up there, peeks over the edge… and goes, “Nope!”
But here’s the problem—there’s no way to climb back down. There was only one way back to the boat and he wasn’t having it.
We try everything. We encourage him. We pray for him. We pray with him. A couple of guys even climb up to be with him, but Jason’s having a full-blown panic attack. He’s up there for about an hour while the rest of us are waiting in the boat, cheering him on like it’s the world’s most awkward sporting event.
Then another boat pulls up, and a little girl—probably nine years old—climbs up with her group. One by one, they all jump into the water… except her. She freezes. Now she’s up there with Jason.
Another hour goes by—two boats full of people trying to convince a grown man and a little girl to jump into the dang river before the sun goes down.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but later I found out Jason started explaining the science of gravity to her. Because apparently, when Jason’s scared, he gets nerdy and chatty. He’s telling her about terminal velocity and how gravity will pull her toward the water and she’ll probably land safely and everything will probably be okay.
And the little girl interrupts him and says, “Why are you telling me all this? Why don’t YOU just jump?”
And Jason thinks about it for a second, then says, “Alright… I will. But then you, okay?”
And he jumps.
A minute later, the little girl jumps too. Everyone loses their mind with joy!
Here’s what I got from watching all that—and I had two hours to think about it. As long as Jason was making it about himself, and his own fear, he was never going to jump. But the second he made it about someone else, about helping her, about giving her courage—he suddenly had all the courage he needed. All the faith he needed to make that leap.
And that’s discipleship.
When we make it all about ourselves—what we get out of church, what we get out of Bible study, whether the songs move us or not—we’re never going to grow into the people God wants us to be. We’ll just stay stuck on that cliff, talking about gravity.
But the moment we make it about helping someone else take the next leap of faith—boom! All the faith and courage we need shows up. Because that’s how God works. The more we give it away, the more we have.
That’s what discipleship looks like in real life. It’s not about having it all figured out — it’s about showing someone else how to take the next step, even when you’re still a little scared yourself. That’s how faith grows. That’s how courage multiplies.
So what does that mean for us, for NewChurch, for your family? It means you have a part to play…
You’ve learned things about Jesus that someone else needs to hear—from you.
Maybe it’s your wife or your husband or your kids. Maybe it’s a co-worker. Maybe it’s a friend who says, “I used to go to church, but…”
You don’t need to have all the answers—you’re not going to. You just need to tell them what God has done for you and point them to Jesus. Show them how it’s done, so they can point other people to Jesus. Have the courage to gently teach someone what they’re missing in their theology. Have the humility to learn what we’re missing.
If everyone here discipled just one person this year — prayed with them, walked with them, helped them take one step closer to Christ — it would change this community, it would change the world.
That’s how the early church turned the world upside down. Not through strategy meetings or social media campaigns, but through relationships.
Through disciples making disciples.
When I look back over my life — from that backyard ambush by God, to Rico the Christian Hippy, to Kemper and Matt — I see the same pattern.
Each person was a link in the chain. Each one filled in something missing.
That’s what God’s still doing through us today.
None of us are called to be the complete discipleship package — just to do our part.
Paul planted. Priscilla and Aquila watered. Apollos preached. God made His church grow.
And He’s still growing it. Through us.
You think you’re not qualified? Perfect. God’s been building His church on unqualified people since day one — He’s not stopping now. AMEN