Always

Isaiah 49:5-13; Matthew 28:16-20

I am a bit of a Gathering of Leaders addict.

I make sure that a gathering is on my schedule every year; I crave it.  Crave the energy from our conversations, the new ideas, the sense of potential in these rooms that gives me optimism for the future of the church.

But there is also a dark side to my addiction.

You see, sometimes when I hear about bright new ideas, clever programs I’d love to try, big challenges, and radical successes, my shoulders start to slump.  And a weight starts to pull down the optimism and energy I’ve gained. Because the mission of the church is a LOT of work.

Have you ever noticed that?

Is there anyone else here who has sometimes listened to a success story, and felt inadequate?

Anyone who has been daunted – for moments or months – by the enormous challenges and the creativity and commitment required – for being missional in a context where the church is getting squeezed dry and almost everyone thinks they’ve heard about Jesus but almost no one really has?

The good news I know about you all is that you – we – go ahead and meet those challenges anyway.  But even though you and I are part of the community that meets those challenges, when I hear Matthew’s story now called “the Great Commission,”

I can’t help thinking about just how big a job this is.

Isaiah underlines this idea when God says, “It is too light a thing to restore Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.”

Oh sure. 

Easy to restore Israel – or perhaps a few million lapsed Christians.  Get that done on Monday morning, and you’ve got nothing to do the rest of the week but bring light to the ends of the earth.

That’s how your calendar looks next week, right?

I don’t know how universal this is, but I’ve noticed as I talk to colleagues that it’s often those with the brightest vision for the mission of the church who are most susceptible to the sheer weight of the task.

We dream, and we get tired.

We inspire, and we dread failure.

We go out, and out, and out, and see just how much further there is to go.

Is that ever true for you?

I suspect the first disciples who heard Jesus’ commission to the ends of the earth were already familiar with the inspiration and the burden.  Isaiah, too.

That’s why the answer is already in these stories.

In the face of that “easy” task of lighting salvation to the ends of the earth, Isaiah is radically reminded of freedom and joy, and the conviction that God responds to God’s people.  Always. Proactively.

And the punch line of the “Great Commission” is not the vast assignment, but Jesus’ testimony:

“Remember I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

With you. With me.  With us.

Always.

I will tell you that while I know this to be true, it’s much harder to remember it when I need to.  Or when I forget I need to.

Tell me now, do any of you have a practice of remembering, as Jesus tells us to?  Remembering, regularly, situationally, always, that Jesus is with you. A practice that reminds you, in heart and spirit as well as head, that God is with you?

(volunteers offered: reading the Biblical paraphrase “The Message;”a new phrase or sentence every day to reflect on, hourly; journaling as a “love letter to God.”)

That’s important, because honestly, I think the punch line of all mission is: “Remember I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

That’s where our freedom comes from.

Remembering that truth sets us free to succeed beyond our own limited dreams,

and it sets us free to fail.

Remember, I am with you always, even when ASA drops and the new program makes the old guard anxious. 

Remember I am with you always, when you’ve gone out to the nations, and been met with gratitude, and tears, and cold shoulders, all at once. 

Remember I am with you always, when the energy of your ministry soars, and new ideas come spilling forth.

Remember I am with you always when mission and ministry are too damn big to lift right now.

It’s the “always” that sets us free.

Because when you’re out on a limb – when you “let go of the bar” – God isn’t watching safely from the ground.

When you’re drowning in work, God isn’t waiting until you surface. 

When you feel like a failure, God is right next to you in the mess –not on the sidelines giving grades.

When you’re on top of the mountain, you’re not up there alone.

“Always” sets us free to fail, to risk, to take a rest, to wonder, to try again.

I know that, but I don’t always remember it when I need to. I’ve thought about tying a string around my finger – but while God is certainly present, the string is something of a liability in the sink or at the stove.

So let me suggest that you try out one of the practices that others shared.

And also, take one of these – infinity, a symbol of always – as a tiny token of Jesus’ presence, promised to you, and use it to fulfill the punch line of the Great Commission,
Remember, I am with you always.

Put it somewhere you will see it several times a day:
on your key ring; in your wallet; tie it on your steering wheel; tuck it next to your transit card.  Tie it with a string around your finger, if you like.

And when you see it, when you touch it, remember.

Stop for the moment it takes to repeat to yourself: “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Stop to remember, with heart and soul and mind, that Jesus is with you for the joy or the strain, the tasks or the laughter, the pain or the relaxation of that particular moment.

Practice God with you the same way you’d practice a golf swing, or a musical instrument, or anything else you want to do well.

Because remembering this truth might do more than anything else to set us free for mission:

Free to fail.  Free to rush forward; free to rest.

Free to succeed beyond your wildest dreams. 

Free to light the ends of the earth.

Amen.

for the Gathering of Leaders Chicago Conference, October 8, 2013