Last week I got to spend some time with a group of church planters, who provided opportunities to talk shop, learn about vision casting and play a few holes of disc golf. Let me preface this by saying that I haven’t reached championship caliber in disc golf yet. OK, I suck. But I did come up with a few lessons that pertain to church planting. Ready?

1. Effectiveness–not sexiness–is the objective.

“Nice disc purse, dude.”

It was no accident that the best player on the course, Jason Allen, carried his arsenal of diamond-etched, graphite coated, pro-model discs in a bag that looked like a large canvas purse. He even slung it over his shoulder between holes. And he didn’t blink when we gave him a hard time about it, because Jason knew that his disc purse was helping him reach his objective: kicking our butts. In a lot of circles, church planting is the hot item. I always thought of it as the extreme sport of Christianity–and everyone knows that the main allure of extreme sports is the chance to look good while rakishly risking your life. But winners realize that style falls by the wayside when you tackle something as difficult as church planting…or disc golf.

2. Humility is your ticket onto the course.

“I just missed a six foot putt. There goes the only strength of my game.”

Anyone can talk a good game. But a newbie can’t hide on the course. The only way to survive in a pastime with a learning curve as steep as disc golf or church planting is to admit what you know: practically nothing. And then set out to learn as fast and as well as you can.

3. Going long is half the game.

“I think that one disappeared over the curve of the earth.”

My best throws rounded out at around 60 feet. Jason’s best throws measured in at about 300. This made Jason a long distance thrower, and me a sprinter. I always had to use four or five tosses just to get near the hole, while he was usually putting within one or two. In a similar way, stats reveal that a lot of church planters burn out when they should just be settling into their marathon rhythm. Short-term precision is good. But going the distance is better. If you have endurance, you’ll have time to correct your mistakes.

4. Velocity overcomes bad marksmanship.

“You just shaved a branch off that tree.”

While us second-tier dudes routinely watched our discs get hung up on spiderwebs and blades of grass, we watched in disgust as Jason’s throws ripped right through low hanging branches like a circular saw blade. It wasn’t that our throws were worse (every once in awhile). It was just that they didn’t have the mustard to sail through a little resistance. Every guy who wants to plant a church knows he won’t get everything right the first time. The deciding factor is the spiritual velocity behind the vision. If the church planter is hearing from Jesus, getting his vision fed by God, then he’ll be able to razor right through some of those obstacles.

5. Seeing the course is non-negotiable.

“Now we’re throwing in that direction, maybe, I think.”

We spent a lot of time walking around the grassy course, sweating profusely, to figure out in what direction we should heave our discs next. Personally, I never really figured out the layout of the course, or how to read the arcane directional signs–which no doubt contributed to my mediocrity. When the next hole wasn’t directly in my line of vision, I usually opted for the right-angle approach: Throw straight ahead until I could see the flag, then throw straight ahead again. Grasping the layout of the course, the big picture, lets a golfer or planter play with strategy. That’s the advantage of wise, nuanced vision. Alternatively, you can just flail away and hope you’re going in the right direction.