Cohort

You raised your hand. Good.

Somewhere in these forty days, the question found you: who's ready to run the next one? If you can host a dinner, you can lead a cohort. Three to twelve people. One hour a week. Eight weeks. The book does the teaching. The Spirit does the forming. Your job is to steward the room, and everything you need is here, free.

What unlocks when you register: the facilitator guide, the week-by-week leader notes, Weekly Words, and everything else we've built for the person at the head of the table.

Gather a table.

You can do this. You don't need a seminary degree, a teaching gift, or a title. If you can host a dinner, you can lead a cohort. If you can ask a question and listen to the answer, you have everything this requires.

Before you start.

You said yes to gathering a table. That alone matters more than you know. Most people who feel the pull will talk themselves out of it before Friday. You didn't.

Let me tell you the truth about what you signed up for. You are not the teacher. You are not the answer-man. You are the host. Make the room honest. Honor the clock. Make sure every voice is heard. The book teaches. The Spirit forms. You steward.

Fifty years of doing this work across six cities has taught me one thing for certain: I am still learning, and so is everyone walking it with you, in living rooms on every continent we can reach.

You do not walk alone. Neither does your table. Let's begin.

Download the book appendix (PDF)

What a cohort is.

Three to twelve people. One hour a week. Eight weeks. That's the whole machine.

Everyone reads five short entries on their own during the week. Then you gather, a living room, a back patio, a corner of a coffee shop, and walk through the week's questions together. Cohorts run up to twelve, but fifty years of building groups says three to five is where the deepest formation happens: everyone speaks, everyone is heard, and no one can hide.

Why it works.

The book does the teaching. The Spirit does the forming. You steward the room.

The Cohort Leader is not a teacher. You keep the conversation moving, make sure every voice is heard, and watch the clock. That's it. The most dangerous leader is the one who thinks they have all the answers, so if you feel unqualified, good. You're paying attention.

How to start.

  • Start with three. Not twelve people and a polished plan, three people willing to walk honestly are enough to begin.
  • Invite the faces that came to mind while you were reading. The restless friend. The colleague who asks real questions. The neighbor whose faith is quiet but steady. You're not looking for the spiritually impressive, you're looking for the spiritually hungry.
  • Keep the invitation simple:
  • Set the rhythm before you start: a consistent day, a small space, and a hard sixty minutes. People who know they can leave in an hour show up in the first place.
  • Don't overthink it. The enemy would love for you to spend three weeks building the perfect roster and never start. Invite three people this week. If two say yes, you have a cohort.
"I've been reading a book called Walking Together that's hitting me in ways I didn't expect. It's designed to be walked with a small group of friends, and I'd love to walk through it with you. Five short daily readings, then an hour together once a week. Would you be open to trying it with me?"

Honest questions.

What if someone dominates the room?

Someone will. Plan for it. Before the first meeting, tell the whole room: in this cohort, every voice gets heard, which means we keep our answers short so others can answer too. Name the rule before you need to enforce it. If a dominator emerges anyway, the move is simple: "Thanks. Let's hear from someone who hasn't spoken yet." Said warmly, said often. Most people respond the first time. Almost everyone responds the second.

What if only two show up?

Then you have a cohort. Jesus said two or three, and he meant it. Some of the deepest conversations of my fifty years happened with two people in a coffee shop after a snowstorm canceled everyone else. Don't apologize for the number. Don't postpone. Walk the week the way you would have if six had come. The room is what it is.

Do we have to meet in a home?

No. You need a room without an agenda, yours or someone else's, and a door that closes. A back patio, the corner booth at a quiet diner, a conference room after hours, a borrowed church library. What matters is that the room belongs to the conversation for that hour. Avoid noisy restaurants. Avoid anywhere a stranger might overhear something fragile.

How much prep each week?

Less than you think. Read the week's five daily entries before the gathering, most leaders do this on Sunday afternoon or Monday morning. Pick the two or three questions at the back of the week that struck you hardest. That's your prep. Resist the urge to study commentary. The book does the teaching; you do not have to.

What if I miss a week?

Move it. Don't skip it. Eight weeks is the rhythm of formation, not the rhythm of convenience. If life takes a week from you, push the schedule out one week and end one week later. Missing a week breaks the spell. Reschedule and walk on.

Register your cohort. Get the kit.

Tell us who you are and where your table is. We'll send the Cohort Leader Kit, the weekly gathering guides, the first-meeting agenda, and the commissioning word, and we'll stay with you: encouragement written for leaders, and invitations to join me and other Cohort Leaders on occasional calls to share what's working. Your cohort goes on the map and into the count.

Plant your flag

No email. No account. Just tell us where you're standing, city and country, and you're in. Your flag joins the map below: every flag a real person, in a real city, starting the same walk. Free. No strings.

Every flag is a real person. No names. No tracking. Just witness.