Approximately four hours ago, I stood before the congregation of a small church in East Anglia as the pastor asked me, "Why is mission important to you?" What follows is my answer upon much deeper reflection of the role of missions in the the Christian's life as he (or she) seeks to devote himself fully to God. "Take it as one man's reverie," as C.S. Lewis suggests, "almost one man's myth. If anything in it is useful to you, use it; if anything is not, never give it a second thought."
"Why is mission important to you?"
A significant introduction to my answer must include the personal impact of missions on my life and the lives of those I care for. Although I grew up in a Christian home, my father died when I was eight years old and my personal "drive" for a committed Christian life was more lackluster than not. It was through the loving care of Christians in my life, through their mission to the hurting, that I realized the love of God in my life. These people saw missions not limited to the plains of Africa but the pews of their church. God opened my heart to His love so that I had (and have) a deep desire to share that love with others. Missions is important to me because it is Christ's hand loving His world. His grace and loving mercy allow and inspire me to reach out to others despite my grave misgivings and disqualifications. He turns my pitiful offerings into His glory, moments of inefficacy and closed doors into eternities of faithfulness. He brings hope and "success" and "failure" and peace and intimacy.
Missions means so much and yet so little. Nothing less than every moment, every purpose, every goal, every profession, every love, every effort, every Spirit-inspired accomplishment; and nothing more than the true, powerful, humble, joyful, peaceful loving of our neighbor, from the cranky grandma sitting next to us in church, to the father of four children who lost his house years ago and now sits on the side of the street with nothing but an empty bottle for family, to the relative we cannot stand to sit in the same room with, to the child starving from lack of bread and lack of the bread of Life. God has given me a heart of compassion, of empathy, of deep care for His people whether they are lost or found. How can I sate the appetite of Eternal Love? Must my heart burst in pity? Must my mind ever condemn each moment not dedicated to others, when each pursuit of "something else" reveals itself as the highest imprecation and the lowest distraction from greater love? What matters that my body be transformed into a chalice by divine alchemy, that I be poured out for His glory and His revelation of light to the blind, if this glory and Light are indeed revealed?
The angels bathed in God's presence do not consider the worth of their crowns as they hurl them into the dust. They don't lament the dirtying of robes and pride when they collapse before the Throne. They only see Him who is the One worth seeing: their response is simply, totally, "Holy, Holy, Holy, is the LORD God Almighty!" They are enraptured, obsessed, adoring the character and actions of the LORD, and utterly ignorant (both "lack of knowledge" and "purposely ignoring") their "contributions" or "personal talents," because who cares about the angels when they stand next to God?? This is not to say that our personal futures, careers, giftings, and passions are unimportant or irrelevant or mere selfish preoccupation, for He created each of us uniquely separate and incomparably comparable in the variety of our identities, interests, intelligences, pains, pleasures, etc. But can I seriously use my distinctions as an excuse? Don't get me wrong, God puts people in different places at different times. But I cannot stand before God and declare that I haven't excused myself from His service - which I know He is calling me to - again and again and again because, "God wants something else for me right now." Or "He's working on developing my own relationship with Him before I share that love with others." Or my classic "Well I'm still afraid of doing that, and obviously if God wanted me to do it He would take away my fear." To this mental tirade, I hear the 'whelming voice of the LORD as it boils through the sky:
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.
Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.
THIS is the character of God to which the angels cry "Holy, Holy, Holy, is the LORD God Almighty!" How can I expect to grow by severing myself from Him who gives growth? He is with me. This is perhaps the most powerful statement I can make.
He (the supernatural, triune, holy, perfect, powerful, knowing, present, judging, saving God) is with (alongside, supporting, within, inspiring, empowering, teaching, guarding) me.
No music matches the strains of my soul resonating to this Truth, this marvelous beauty, this phenomena peerless in humanity's search for knowledge. "Surely this is happiness," says Charles Simeon, "to tase the love of God, to find delight in His service, and to see that we are in a measure instrumental to the imparting of this happiness to others- this, I say, is a felicity which nothing but heaven can exceed." My happiness and repose is found in His Presence. He returns our measly offerings with Divine Magnification, transforming "individual talents" into beautiful magnificences of His Glory. Do I wish to stand before God and say "By Your Grace, I have served you to my utmost. By Your Grace, I loved when hated and served when enslaved. By Your Grace, I found my Rock in intimacy with you"? Or do I wish to say, "Yeah, I saw those in need and in pain, but God, I really thought You were calling me to a good career and a good intellectual life." My disgust at this statement is only as deep as my admission of guilt, for I know I concern myself far more with being a man according to the latter than the former. I cannot ignore God's love and impact in my life; can I ignore the lack of such in those around me?
We must hold God's unquestionable desire to preach His Good News through us and our own total humility in equal weight. Even the angels circling God's Throne use two thirds of themselves (in this case, four of their six wings) to express utter humility before God and the remaining third in service to Him. We are not the ones who accomplish anything, only Christ in us. Our attitude should not be to take pride in "all the things" we have done in service for God; our attitude should be, "Holy, Holy, Holy, is the LORD God Almighty!"
I distract myself from Him by assuming that it's not my job to "foist" God upon others. I cannot force "my truth" upon people who have "their own." I am not nearly wise enough to know when (or if) someone cannot or should not hear the Gospel, but I am wise enough to know that selfless, compassionate, serving love is true regardless of pasts, personalities, and part-truths. I believe that God's work in our lives and His message through Christ applies to anyone and should be shared as the ultimate expression of Love, but I also know that my duty begins with loving my brothers and sisters where they are at by God's Grace.
Wow Sean, what a perfectly moderate statement! To acknowledge the reality of a vaguely pleasurable, mostly accommodating, rarely sacrificial love. How simple! How easy! No need to offend or challenge; just need to "love others."
But if I have learned anything about love, I have learned that it is at its best when it is gritty and painful and mind-blowingly obnoxious; when it refuses to "let us be" and instead sticks a pin up a very unfortunate hole to move us into active, growing relationship. Our friendships stagnate equally with lack of conflict providing opportunities to grow as with lack of common interest. How much more our love? So when I say I will love you as Christ has loved me, I say I will, by His Grace, help you to heal as much as challenge you, comfort and encourage you as much as debate with you and frustrate you. I may not have a "right" (whatever that means) to assume I know how to "fix" you, and by all means I don't want to know. What I know is that God's grace is where it begins. I don't concern myself that you're liberal or libertarian, Catholic or Buddhist, gay or straight. I concern myself whether you understand when I say "He is with me," and I am concerned that I am loving your properly.
I have felt the words of Bishop Thomas Wilson when he shared, "He will also understand that the love of Christ, and the remembrance of His death, ought to be very dear to us; and that the oftener we remember it in the manner ordained, the more graces we shall receive from God, the firmer will be our faith, the surer our pardon, and the more comfortable our hopes of meeting Him, not as an enemy, but as a Friend, at whose Table we have been so often entertained." And God birthed in us the desire and the means to share that with others.
Mission is not sporadically throwing in $5 to the missionaries in your church (though again, don't misunderstand me, support is certainly a part of the gospel [See Philippians]) out of a guilty conscience, nor is it deciding haphazardly to travel to India (usually). It is devotion to God daily, following His leading, listening to His Truth in a world that spurns it. Mission is taking that Truth and living it faithfully, mostly erratically and imperfectly, but still gracefully, powerfully, lovingly, by God's Spirit and by His grace. Without using our freedom in His mission to pursue our own ends, let our mission be to worship the LORD in every moment, every heartache, every trial, to sing with the hymnist:
"Be Thou my Vision, O LORD of my heart.
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art."
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