| I've been struggling in my prayer/devotion time with Jesus' commands to love, go, and "do this" in the Great Commission, Great Commandment, and the Last Supper. I think we've seriously missed the mark with this one. A new friend of mine named Steve North wrote an article that responds to these sorts of thoughts. It's been a great help to me. I post it here not as my own thought, but as a voice in this conversation. If you like what Steve wrote, let me know and I'll pass your words on to him from here. --Sam
Meet Me At The Intersection One would be hard pressed to find
someone who did not agree that what is known as the Great Commission, found in
Matthew 28:18-20, should inform much of what we do in ministry. Jesus, just
before ascending to heaven following forty days of post-resurrection
appearances, spoke these words to his followers at the time, but also to
present day Christ-followers by extension: “All authority in
heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make
disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the
Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything
that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of
the age.” These words are the rallying cry at every missions conference, every
revival campaign, every parachurch organizational meeting, and more. We often speak
of the Great Commission with great passion and conviction. Why, then, have we settled for a Christian mission emphasis that centers
on what I would call “signs of invitation.” The past 150 years of North
American Christianity have been characterized by efforts to persuade people to
come to our buildings and events. We put signs over our doors which say
“Church,” and have actually expected people disconnected from a church culture
to come. I think this begs the question: “What makes us think unchurched people
would initiate contact with us?” This seems the exact opposite of what Jesus
commissioned his followers to do in Matthew 28. It is, to say the least,
ineffective in reaching the U.S.’s majority unchurched
population, which recognizes the incongruity of a church that claims to love
lost people on behalf of Christ, but seems to do everything in its power to
avoid contact with them. This “going” should also involve more than just changes in our geography.
While it certainly suggests this, one is perfectly capable of conducting a
“drive-through” approach to ministry in the world, without ever really engaging
it. There is a good bit of appeal to this approach, since we don’t generally
appreciate mussing our clothing or hair. But Jesus’ instruction seems to be
that, having gone, we should also teach people what he taught and how to live
by those teachings. Our “going” requires us to actually engage people on their
turf – not only geographically, but also emotionally and spiritually. In another setting I believe to be inextricably tied to the Great
Commission mandate for the church, Jesus spoke concerning the thing most
important to God. In Mark 12:28-34, Jesus tells people what is the greatest,
most important command of any given. His response to the question concerning a
thinly-veiled attempt at trickery was this: “‘Love the Lord your God with all
your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your
strength,’“ quoting Deuteronomy 6. And, immediately, he followed up with a
command he apparently considered inseparable from the first: “Love your neighbor
as yourself.” We love to preach this passage, too, “waxing the elephant” (waxing
eloquent) about the virtues of loving God and people. With great passion, and
often with great emotion, we speak of the virtues of loving God with everything
we have and are, yet our lack of faith and obedience and joy belie a
deep-seated mistrust of God that undermines the love we profess. In the name of
practicality and responsibility and balance, we explain away the lack of
abandonment in our love, just like rationalizations of pre-nuptial agreements
between people about to commit to marriage “until death do us part.” We hedge
our bets with God on this love thing. So, when it comes to the corollary love for people, the same dynamic is at
work. This seems even easier to justify, since disappointment comes so easily
in our relationships. After all, “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice,
shame on me.” So we, lacking trust and unwilling to take the risk that is
always a prime characteristic of genuine love, engage in “internet love” – communication
without the risk of getting hurt or dirty. That way, no one gets hurt. And the
consequence is that, even (maybe especially) in the church, we settle for
handshakes and small talk. In the name of practical necessity, responsibility
and balance, we opt for acquaintance instead of community. But the kind of love for neighbor to which Jesus calls us in these verses
is more radical than it is safe. A person’s love for self is a powerful force,
motivating one to actions and beliefs that enhance security and survival
chances, and that go beyond this to issues of personal fulfill-ment and
beneficence. This love of neighbor certainly should produce the same kinds of
motives, actions and beliefs. Perhaps this is what the apostle Paul had in mind
when he suggested we should bear one another’s burdens (Gal. 6:2) and be
devoted to others’ interests (Rom. 12:9). The Great Commandment contained in these verses gives a clear view of what
is most important to God. It seems evident that if these two commandments are
inseparable to God, and that if they are most important to God of anything we
can do, the collective mandate conveyed through them must apply to the
commission given us in Matthew 28. Can the Great Command-ment be divorced from
the Great Commission? Surely the “going” of the Great Commission should be done
in the context of the “loving” of the Great Commandment – and vice versa. Yet so much of our “going” is satisfied with loveless, surplus-material
giving and sending; and so much of our “loving” is confined to our safe and shallow
familiar relationships, with little commitment to going further than the
building with the sign that says “Church” over the door to express it. And in
the meantime, people die in sorrow and hopelessness and isolation from God and
his people. I can’t count the number of times I have heard Christians talk
about others – whether in their own backyard or elsewhere around the world – heading
for a Christ-less eternity as though it were of no more concern than missing the
10 for $10 milk sale at Kroger. I feel certain God’s heart breaks over this. It must break over a church
that is so self-satisfied and self-interested that it cannot love either God or
people. It must break over lost people who think the lack of interest shown by God’s
representatives accurately reflects a lack of interest on his part. From God’s
broken heart, I hear an invitation: “Meet me at the intersection.” In the incarnation, God’s “going” intersected with God’s “loving” in the
person of Jesus. The cry of lost and broken humanity was heard even before it
was first uttered, and God made a way to meet us at that intersection. Jesus
did not require that humans build a road to get us back to God, but he came.
Jesus did not require that we turn from being his enemies, but he loved –
first. The great mission of God was culminated at the cross of Christ, where
the grace of his “going” intersected with the suffering of his “loving,” for humanity’s
benefit. Now Jesus invites us to meet him at the same intersection, and to meet
each other there as we carry out his call upon the Church. This intersection is
a little dangerous. It’s not necessarily safe, and it’s certainly not risk-free
or inexpensive. It requires exposing ourselves to dangers like rejection and
misunderstanding. It exposes us even more to dangers of self-denial and letting
go the things that so clamor for our attention and devotion. It means investing
our lives and resources in what matters most to God. The specific features of this intersection vary from place to place, which
makes it all the more dangerous. In one place the intersection of “go” and
“love” may look like taking in unwed mothers, or pregnant teens and their
unborn babies; in another, it may look like living in a jungle with a stone-age
tribe of yet unreached people. In one place, the intersection may look like working
with AIDS victims or drug addicts, while in another it may look like conducting
covert operations to rescue people from genocide. It will often look like going
to live and work among the poor somewhere on the planet, and it will always
look like total abandonment to a radical commitment to others-centeredness. I
don’t know what it looks like in your community, but I know it looks a lot
different from the pews and stained glass in our sanctuaries. Our “going” into the world is going to have to extend beyond sending money
or people somewhere in order to soothe our collective conscience about a lost
world. Our “loving” of neighbor will have to risk more than friendly small talk
with those whose backyards and lives already share boundaries with our own.
It’s time to play in the traffic, and to cross against the light. We have settled
for maintaining our comfortable status quo for far too long. It was never good
this way, and it never will be. The Great Commission and the Great Commandment
must inform our mandate from God, as well as our actual responses to it. So God waits, and says to his church, “Meet me at the
intersection. I’ve been there all along.” |
