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Enséñame cómo
Por Tim Zakarian
Entonces, ¿qué pasa después de que una persona recibe la salvación? ¿Ha terminado nuestro trabajo? ¿Cómo le ayudamos a dar los siguientes pasos en la fe?
No crecí en la iglesia, y no decidí seguir a Cristo hasta que estaba en secundaria. Estaba entusiasmado por vivir para Cristo, pero ese entusiasmo duró solo unos tres meses, y luego me alejé. Simplemente no sabía cómo dar los siguientes pasos en la fe. No fue hasta mi último año de secundaria que estaba tan cansado de mi vida que decidí volver a seguir al Señor. Esta vez tuve el apoyo de un grupo de jóvenes y de un buen amigo cristiano que me acompañó en mis próximos pasos. Algunos llamarían a esto: discipular.
Es vital ayudar a una persona en sus siguientes pasos en la fe. De hecho, Jesús nos ordenó en Mateo 28:19 (NTV), «vayan y hagan discípulos».
Sí, es importante que una persona acepte al Señor, pero también es fundamental que aprenda lo que significa tener una relación con Cristo. Todos tenemos la oportunidad de ayudar a los nuevos creyentes a lo largo de este camino. Pero… ¿cómo lo hacemos?
Desde que me convertí en pastor, he tenido el privilegio de discipular a muchas personas y verlas convertirse en líderes increíbles para Cristo. Aprendí acerca de discipular a partir de mi propia experiencia de fe, pero también al ayudar a otros en sus siguientes pasos en la vida cristiana. Así que cuando comienzas a discipular a alguien, ¿por dónde empiezas?
Se comienza con una relación.
Y las relaciones llevan tiempo. Cuando acepté al Señor, un compañero de trabajo cristiano pasó meses entablando una relación conmigo. Como teníamos una amistad, esa persona pudo ayudarme a avanzar en mi fe. La relación fue importante; me permitió hacer las preguntas difíciles a alguien en quien confiaba. También me permitió observar la vida de otra persona para ver cómo vivía realmente un cristiano. Como yo procedía de un contexto ajeno a la Iglesia, también necesitaba tener que rendir cuentas a alguien para hacer frente a mi antigua forma de vida.
Si el modelo utilizado por Jesús fue vivir la vida con otros (sus discípulos), entonces tal vez deberíamos hacer lo mismo. Jesús pasó mucho tiempo con sus discípulos. Este fue su ejemplo: Yo les enseñaré, ustedes sigan mi ejemplo, luego vayan a hacer lo que les enseñé y yo observaré. Jesús envió a los discípulos de pueblo en pueblo para compartir las Buenas Nuevas. Así fue como comenzaron la Iglesia primitiva.
Un paso muy importante es guiar a un nuevo creyente hacia una relación auténtica
con Cristo.
Puede ser fácil señalar las normas de nuestra fe o la moral piadosa, y estas cosas son importantes. Pero la verdadera transformación se produce a través de una relación con Cristo. Cuando recibí a Cristo por primera vez, me esforcé mucho por seguir las leyes sin conocerlo muy bien. El resultado fue que erraba al blanco. Mis fracasos me hacían sentir culpable y empecé a preguntarme si realmente podía seguir a Cristo. Entonces alguien me ayudó a desarrollar mi relación con Cristo mostrándome cómo acercarme más a Él. Me ayudaron a involucrarme en un grupo pequeño que estaba dirigido a nuevos creyentes, y comencé a entender quién es realmente Jesús. Fue entonces cuando encontré el verdadero cambio y la verdadera libertad en mi vida. La verdadera transformación viene de la relación con Cristo.
Otro paso vital es ayudar a un nuevo creyente a integrarse en una buena iglesia.
Es importante que cuenten con el apoyo de otros cristianos. Al principio me resultó difícil. Me daba miedo la iglesia, en especial el servicio cristiano. Pero mi amigo me animó a asistir y a participar. Aprendí a adorar, a confraternizar y a entender la Biblia. Me integré en un grupo pequeño, en el que seis chicos me ayudaban a rendir cuentas y a crecer en mi fe. En la clase para nuevos creyentes de la iglesia aprendí lo básico para ser cristiano. Allí aprendí la importancia del bautismo y me bauticé. Fue allí donde recibí mi llamado a ser pastor. Algunas personas tratan de pasar por alto la participación en la iglesia en su camino de la fe, pero la iglesia es fundamental en nuestro crecimiento. Es el modelo que Jesús nos dio para ayudarnos en nuestro caminar.
El próximo paso es ayudar a un nuevo creyente a encontrar su nueva identidad en Cristo.
Necesitan pasar de ser espectadores a ser participantes. A menudo es aquí donde la gente se atasca. No saben cómo involucrarse o hacer conexiones reales. Cuando me hice convertí, toda mi vida cambió. Perdí muchos amigos porque había cambiado mi forma de pasar el tiempo y mi manera de vivir. Era una persona nueva en Cristo, pero tuve que aprender lo que eso significaba. Hay muchas maneras de ayudar a un nuevo creyente en esta etapa. Ofrézcale un examen de personalidad o una evaluación de dones que le ayude a identificar los rasgos, talentos y dones que Dios le ha dado y que ni siquiera sabía que tenía. Deles la oportunidad de servir junto a creyentes maduros en la iglesia local y en la comunidad. Esto también les ayudará a identificar sus intereses y dones.
La capacitación es crucial. Como he dicho antes, eso es exactamente lo que Jesús hizo con sus discípulos. Les mostró lo que tenían que hacer, los mandó a hacerlo y luego los envió para que liderasen. Mostrarle a alguien como servir para que entienda lo que se espera es importante en el crecimiento de un creyente. Muchas veces le decimos a alguien que vaya a servir sin ofrecerle entrenamiento o explicarle las expectativas solo para después verlos fracasar. Cuando una persona está bien capacitada y sabe lo que se espera de ella, tiene una mejor oportunidad de tener éxito y crecer en sus talentos y dones.
¿Cuánto dura este proceso de «discipulado»? La realidad es que, si es un creyente, este debe ser un proceso de toda la vida. Tenga paciencia con el proceso de crecimiento espiritual de otra persona. Manténgase presente a largo plazo. Quizá tenga que dar algunos pasos atrás. Esté ahí para amarlos y ayudarlos a retomar el camino. Sea honesto con ellos y ámelos con un amor no basado en sus acciones, sino en quiénes son. Así es como nos ama Jesús. Estoy muy agradecido de que Él nunca me abandonó durante mi proceso. Estoy muy agradecido a Dios por haber puesto personas en mi vida que nunca me abandonaron. Sea esa persona para alguien. Pregúntele al Señor cómo puede ayudar a otra persona a crecer en su fe. Es un honor increíble ver a alguien en quien ha invertido amar a Jesús y hacer un impacto en el Reino.
Sobre el Autor
Tim Zakarian es director asociado de la Región del Pacífico de las Iglesias de la Biblia Abierta. Actualmente vive en Springfield, Oregón, con su esposa, Tina, con la que lleva casado 36 años. Los Zakarian tienen dos hijos adultos, ya casados que sirven en el ministerio. Michael y su esposa, Cheyenne, son pastores de jóvenes en la Iglesia Cristiana Summit de la Biblia Abierta en Los Ángeles. Christine McAndrew y su esposo, Aaron, son los pastores de jóvenes en Waypoint Community, una iglesia de la Biblia Abierta en Springfield, Oregon. En su ministerio, Tim ha desempeñado muchas funciones, como pastor de jóvenes, director regional de jóvenes, pastor asociado, pastor ejecutivo, plantador de iglesias y pastor principal. Sin importar su cargo, la pasión de Tim por el ministerio siempre ha sido ser mentor y desarrollar líderes.
I wonder what happened on all the August 5ths throughout my life. I experienced forty-seven of them as an innocuous number on the calendars of my life: unremarkable, ordinary, plain. I breezed past them without a thought and left them behind without a thought, too.
I will never forget my forty-eighth August 5th. For the rest of my (hopefully) long life, every 5th day of August will be marked in red and circled with a thick highlighter of remembrance. That is the date my husband Josh and I received the phone call that every parent dreads – the kind you read about in someone else’s story and pray never crosses into your own.
But on August 5, 2025, it did.
Fear is many things at once: a glacial wash that starts on your head and drains to your immobilized feet, a taste in your mouth and a sound in your ears, and a fist that strangles your throat.
We were on top of a mountain in Idaho during a church staff retreat when the Life360 app on my phone — an app our family uses to share locations and receive crash or emergency notifications — suddenly and jarringly blared a warning, alerting me that our middle daughter, Adelaide, was involved in a critical incident.
I cannot explain the cold fear that washed over me in that moment. That kind of fear is many things at once: a glacial wash that starts on your head and drains to your immobilized feet, a taste in your mouth and a sound in your ears, and a fist that strangles your throat.
Many frantic minutes later, a deputy called us to let us know that our daughter was involved in a serious car accident and was not doing well. We continued to learn, as we scrambled off the mountain, that she was being life-flighted to the hospital…and that was all we knew.
For nearly two hours.
Fear does another thing: it slows time down to a minuscule crawl that leaves you weeping, screaming, and shaking your fist at the world as you drive at “safe” speeds to where your daughter lies in an unknown state without you.
I will spare the reader from those moments of agony: the prayers that dripped onto my lap, the pleading and begging, brokenness too intimate for anyone but my Father to understand.
I put on the full armor of God in a way I never understood before and will never misunderstand again.
One of the sweetest moments of my existence is the moment I first saw my daughter’s beautiful face as she lay on the emergency room’s gurney, smeared in blood but oh-so alive. Her voice asking if anyone else was hurt, her precious feet sticking out from the blanket, and her fingers curled in mine. The fifth of August will always hold that breathtaking image in my heart.
Adelaide sustained many traumatic injuries from her accident. For that entire first night in the ICU, I was bent over her in prayer, overwhelmed with both terror and joy, each one warring against the other and trying to take control. I battled in prayer for my girl that night, refusing to back down and contending with ferocity. I put on the full armor of God in a way I never understood before and will never misunderstand again.
I kept repeating the 8th and 9th verses of Isaiah 58, sometimes whispering them, sometimes sobbing them, but always experiencing them. There are promises in the Word that you no longer just read but experience; there is a knowing that changes your entire world.
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: ‘Here am I’ (NIV).
I called out to Jesus, and He didn’t have to run to answer because He was already there, holding not just me in His arms, but Addy as well.
As I called out to Him, He kept saying, “Here am I.” He continued repeating those words, never growing weary of saying them to me— it was His liturgy over me.
“Here am I.”
“Here am I.”
“Here am I.”
I could hear His love, see His protection, and feel His Presence.
The healing He provided was as stunning as the first break of dawn, filling my feeble world with light. Adelaide’s lacerated lungs were miraculously sealed the next morning. Doctors came into her ICU room and were stunned to see my sweet girl smiling back at them, her healing defying the accident she endured. Today, she wears her testimony on her leg in the form of a gnarly scar, and it is proof of the Lord’s providence and healing that she loves to share with others. He guarded Adelaide on every side, and His purpose went before her. The glory of the Lord was her rearguard, and for that, this momma will never stop praising Him.
Every August 5th and each day that He gives.
*To read more from Melissa and what God has taught her through this event, read her related article: Five Things I Didn’t Know I Needed to Learn About Prayer.
About the Author
Melissa Stelly serves as the executive pastor at Turning Point Church in Spokane, Washington, alongside her husband, Josh Stelly. She has attended Turning Point for thirty-four years. She is the mother of three daughters, adores camping, hiking, and adventuring, is a voracious reader, and considers Mt. Rainier one of the greatest accomplishments the Lord created. Most days in her free time you will find her curled up with a good book or taking a long walk.
“Babe, I think we need to steal Christmas.” I said this to my wife, Kelley, as we were driving back from a family celebration. Without any further explanation, she knew I meant that the atmosphere of our family gatherings had left a lot to be desired. It wasn’t that they were bad; in fact, they were fun and filled with love, but we both sensed that commercialism had taken over and God wanted more for us; He was highlighting these family gatherings as spaces where He wanted to be on display.
I continued processing with Kelley: “…On second thought, changing Christmas might be too much for our families to handle, but I think we could probably take over next year’s Thanksgiving celebration. If we start planting the seeds now, then in ten years no one will notice that little by little we’ve taken over planning the big gatherings—until Christmas is just handed to us!”
… it was in this moment that Thanksgiving was reborn for our family.
Kelley looked at me skeptically. Okay, so maybe my plan to steal Christmas was a little ambitious and made me sound like a Pixar villain, but it was in this moment that Thanksgiving was reborn for our family. We brainstormed, we got excited, and Kelley helped wrangle us under God’s wisdom. As we prayed, God showed us a whole new way to gather at the table.
First, the table needed to be extended, both literally and metaphorically. We wanted to combine both sides of our family under one roof (can you say high risk?). Everyone was welcome, and we made sure to personally invite those without family or community. Kelley and I are part of a ministry that focuses on underserved neighborhoods in Toledo, Ohio. There is no shortage of people here who need to be connected to God’s love and see His family in action on days that remind them of trauma, hardship, and pain (including holidays).
Second, old traditions had to die for new ones to be born. Bye-bye, TV trays and football games; hello, giant thankfulness tree. Transparently, it was at this point that I was a little concerned; we were taking on generations of tradition, and I still wasn’t sure how to put God on display like He wanted to be. That was when He showed us the big one: The Food. Goodbye, turkey, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole.
A new tradition was born. Instead of the traditional Thanksgiving meal, we picked a foreign culture and tried our hand at making their traditional dishes, desserts, and drinks. We adopted their games, played their music, and decorated our home with their colors. It was a huge risk, and it was a hit!
As we prayed, God showed us a whole new way to gather at the table.
After several years of these reinvented Thanksgivings, both our family and neighbors are fully on board. Each year, everyone at the table votes on the next cultural cuisine, and now, eight years in, Thanksgiving has become a highlight tradition. People dress up, experiment with exotic dishes, invite friends, and—most importantly—shower one another with love. Some years the gathering has grown so large we’ve even had to find a new venue.
Our “thankfulness tree,” built by Kelley, has become the centerpiece of the gathering. Each person writes down what they’re grateful for, shares it, and adds their leaf. And year after year we’ve saved them, creating a beautiful archive of gratitude. Neighbors without family have joined us too, finding a place to share thanks, receive prayer, and encounter God’s love through new traditions. Along the way, we’ve cooked some unforgettable meals, and one of my favorite moments has been watching people set aside hesitation to try something new when the familiar comforts aren’t on the table. That kind of openness has sparked amazing conversations about God, suffering, love, and family.
God has been on full display, His table extended, His traditions for us established, and His love something I am truly thankful for.
(Oh, and did we just so happen to host Christmas at our house last year? You betcha.)
About the Author
Corey Bern resides in the often overlooked rustbelt city of Toledo, Ohio, where he savors beautiful moments with his daughter, Liberty, and beautiful wife, Kelley. Corey serves as associate pastor of Washington Church as well as director of The Lewis House, an inner-city ministry that partners with Open Bible Churches. When he isn’t walking alongside others on their journey to the Father’s heart, he’s often hidden away in the world’s coolest under-the-stairs office with a good book—or helping Liberty baptize Barbies.
“Your father’s kidney is no longer functioning in your body, but twenty-one years is a good run. You need to start dialysis.”
That wasn’t the deal I had made with the Lord. When I received my kidney transplant from my dad, he was the perfect match. I was fourteen years old and had been sick for too long; I wanted to be a normal kid. I had been born with kidney disease, and doctors had no hope for me. They had transferred that hopelessness to my parents. My dad reminds me all the time how he questioned God: “Was it my sins or my wife’s sins that brought on this disease?”
God clearly answered him the way Jesus replied in John 9:3: “It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.” I found it interesting that the one who asked (my dad) was the one who gave. His gift of a kidney lasted twenty-one years, which was a miracle in itself. The average kidney transplant lasts twelve to fifteen years. While twenty-one years was a miracle, I wasn’t satisfied: my father’s kidney was supposed to last until God called me home. God was supposed to heal me.
On February 17, 2022, I sat in a dialysis chair for the first time in twenty-one years, overwhelmed by fear of what lay ahead. A doctor and social worker assured me their goal was to get me a new kidney quickly. Their confidence comforted me; I believed God had placed me in a facility where things would move smoothly and quickly.
After nine months of hearing nothing, a new social worker finally told me I was on the UCSF transplant list. I’ll never forget it—my husband said it was the best wedding anniversary gift. We were thrilled, believing we were one step closer to a new kidney. But on December 30, everything changed. The social worker told me I was not on the list after all and needed to call UCSF to check on my application status.
I wasn’t satisfied: my father’s kidney was supposed to last until God called me home. God was supposed to heal me.
What had felt like a glimmer of hope was gone in just a few weeks, and I was crushed. On January 3, 2023, I called UCSF, and the woman who answered was kind and encouraging, saying, “Let’s make sure we get you a kidney. You’re too young to be going through this.”
I met with doctors, nurses, and the transplant team over Zoom to assess if I was mentally and physically ready for a transplant. They informed me the wait for a kidney could be five to nine years, and when the meeting was over, I still had no assurance of a place on the transplant list. With that news, my strength started to wear thin, but I kept praying, trusting that somehow God would help me through whatever lay ahead.
In His strength, I returned to teaching with a smile, determined to make the most of the next five to nine years as I poured into my second graders and their future. As the worship pastor at Life Church in Concord, California, I encouraged others not to lose confidence in God, even when things felt out of control.
In June 2023, I attended the Open Bible National Convention in Texas on the very days I normally had dialysis. I went against medical advice, not realizing how much God had in store. The conference began on Tuesday, and I felt unusually tired and heavy-hearted. I wondered, “What if this is it? What if the deal I made with God was to keep going for the next five to nine years, and then He would take me home?”
That night, I shared those thoughts with my husband. I wasn’t giving up, I was simply accepting what I thought was God’s plan. I reminded him that despite all our prayers, my mom and his mom had both gone home to be with Jesus. I was learning that life is precious, but we don’t always get the answer we hope for. Still, I wasn’t defeated; I was fighting my way forward, bearing the bruises and scars of a warrior.
The next morning, a group of women prayed over me, asking God to release a miracle and heal me from needing dialysis. Their prayer stirred my spirit, though my body still felt weary. That night during worship as “Firm Foundation” played, tears streamed down my face. My spirit believed God wouldn’t fail, but my body felt the weight of exhaustion and the marks of treatment.
I heard God say clearly, … “I’m hitting the reset button. Get ready.”
After the service, I saw Tirsa, a missionary from Nicaragua who had visited our church when I was young. She knew my mom, and that connection meant everything. She prayed boldly for a miracle, that I would no longer need dialysis. I felt in my spirit that I needed to be prayed for by Angie Sissel, one of my spiritual mothers. As I waited for her, my eyes kept being drawn to the green circle in that year’s conference theme. I heard God say clearly, “I’m hitting the reset button.” I asked if He meant my kidneys, but He simply repeated, “I’m hitting the reset button. Get ready.”
When “Momma Angie” prayed over me, her husband, Pastor Derek Sissel, shared a word from the Lord. He looked me in the eyes and said, “God’s not done with you. There’s still fire inside you. Stop thinking He’s finished.” Tears ran down my face. He had no way of knowing what I’d said in private the night before, but God had heard me. I called my husband that night and told him everything.
Thursday brought a surprise. During our free time, my husband told me to answer the unknown number that had been calling because it might be the hospital. When I finally answered, it was the transplant team. They told me a kidney might be available the next day. I explained I was in Texas, but they said it was fine, I was second in line. If the person ahead of me wasn’t a match, the kidney would be mine.
All day, I kept my phone close. During the Convention’s evening reception, they called again, not to confirm the kidney yet, but to make sure I was still reachable. I stayed on edge, waiting.
Friday morning, we flew home. As soon as we landed and were driving home, the call came: “Mrs. Wolfe? The kidney is yours. Please be at the hospital by 4:30 p.m. for your final dialysis treatment, then head to UCSF.”
I jumped up and down in my seat, telling everyone in the van, “My kidney is on its way!” I called my husband, and he told his boss, “I need to go get my wife; she’s getting her kidney today!”
On June 17, 2023, I received my transplant—a gift I know came straight from the Lord. It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to question the fact that it came from someone who had passed. I later learned it came from a young person. I know their family must have experienced immense pain, but I am deeply grateful. Because of their generosity, I have life again. I can teach, lead worship, and now preach.
After I returned home and began recovering, I received a letter from UCSF. It said I had been placed on the transplant list as of June 6, 2023, just ten days prior to the phone call that informed me I’d been given a kidney. Ten days. After losing nearly a year and a half of my life, God needed only ten days to give me a kidney. It reminded me—He’s not done with me. It was my mom’s time to go home and my mother-in-law’s too. But not mine.
Now, whenever an opportunity comes, I say yes. God gave me life—again—so He can fulfill His promises and purpose through me. If He isn’t done with my story, I know He’s not done with yours. Pray, lean in, surrender the outcome, and He will surprise you! He’s not done.
Mary Lou Wolfe is a worship pastor, preaching team lead, and second grade teacher at Life Church in Concord, California. She has been married to her husband, Chris, for twelve years and their goldendoodle, Brock, is almost two years old. She was born and raised in the Bay Area. Her dad, Ricardo, is from El Salvador and her mom, Jenny, was from Nicaragua. At the age of nine, Mary Lou and her parents moved to a Hispanic Church in Antioch, California. Templo Santo was her home church and sent her to Eugene Bible College, where she graduated in 2009. Since then, she has been in ministry, never losing her heritage and always having a heart for her people. She speaks, writes, and reads in Spanish. She is grateful that her parents taught her to hold tight to her heritage, never forgetting where she came from or where God is taking her.
