This coming Sunday is designated as World Missions Sunday in our lectionary. There are probably several “missionary” passages that each of us remember, like Matthew 28:16-20, Romans 10:13-15, or Acts 1:8, but the theme of the nations coming to the Lord is one that saturates all of Scripture. It begins in Genesis, where Adam and Eve are told to “be fruitful and multiply” so that they fill the earth with the image of God, and it reaches all the way to Revelation, where the angels sing to Jesus, “Worthy are you…for…by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation.” It is in Revelation 7 that we see the result of this mission, a “great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes.”
This past Sunday, Justin preached about the hope of the resurrection. Our hope is in the victory of Christ over all enemies through the power of his resurrection. His victory—victory over even our own sinfulness—gives us hope that his rule and reign will permeate our hearts and make them subjects of Christ, subjects of his will so that our hearts would desire and love what Christ loves. Christ came to be made sin, to suffer the wrath of God, and to take the punishment we deserve, all so that he could purchase by his blood a people for himself. Through the power of the resurrection, he has made certain the salvation of his people.
The power and hope of the resurrection is not just for us, but for everyone. This is the task that we have been given by the one who rules in our hearts. We are to take the good news of his resurrection, the hope of salvation through reconciliation with God by the blood of his Son, to the nations. If you wonder whether you are called to be part of this mission, Scripture is clear: you are called because you are part of the body of Christ. The call to participate in the spread of the gospel to all people is a call to all believers, but not as individuals. This call is for his church to work in unity as the living body of the resurrected Lord to take this hope to every tribe, tongue, people, and nation. Our discernment is not whether we have been given this call, but rather how we can participate in the call for all of Christ’s body.
I want to personally invite each of you to consider coming to New Wineskins this Sept. 22-25th to hear about how this work is being done by his body. The work is being done—both near and far, in our neighborhoods and in neighborhoods all around the world! People from all over the world, members of the mosaic that is Christ’s body, will be there to give a foretaste of the heavenly realms. Come and see how the Lord is at work through his people and be encouraged!
Sermon on the Plain
Each church season offers a unique “movement of the soul,” a particular way of growing in grace. The movement of the soul Epiphany offers is not something we do, but instead something we receive. In Epiphany, we receive a revelation of God’s character in the person of Jesus Christ. Do we see him clearly? Do we receive him? To that end…
On Sunday, we will read Luke 6:17-26, which is the beginning of the “Sermon on the Plain” (the sermon ends at verse 49). The full sermon overlaps a great deal with the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5-7), but the emphases are different. As a traveling teacher and prophet, Jesus likely taught this material in a number of settings, choosing his points of emphasis for the setting and the audience anew each time.
Even though “mount” and “plain” indicate where Jesus stood as he delivered each version of the sermon, these words do more than just set the geography. Both are loaded with theological weight, and Jesus was too immersed in the Scriptures not to realize what he was communicating by standing in a particular place while he delivered each message. Standing on a mountain would have reminded his audience of Moses, and so the version Matthew records should be heard as Torah—God’s Law and instruction for his people. But standing on a plain is equally significant, because in the prophets, plains are a picture of obstacles being removed so that God would return to dwell with his people (e.g., Is. 40:3-5).
It is with this in mind that we should hear Jesus’ words in Luke 6. When he says, “blessed are the poor” and “woe to you who are rich,” or, “blessed are you who are hungry now” and “woe to you who are full now,” do we hear him saying that our pursuit of wealth and satisfaction can prevent us from dwelling with God? When he says, “blessed are you who weep now” and “woe to you who laugh now,” do we hear him saying that our pursuit of pleasure and unwillingness to grieve can prevent us from being with God?
His words are not easy words, but we make them harder if we turn them into a denial of self for denial’s own sake. Jesus is not calling us to deny ourselves food, money, or laughter because these are evil; instead, he is pointing out what often prevents us from seeing and dwelling with God. Pursuing anything—even the good things—in place of God is like placing a mountain or valley in the middle of the road between us and God. Our Lord does not call us to self-denial out of harshness, but instead out of love. Much of what we pursue does not bring life, and it certainly does not prepare us for the presence of God.
“Prepare the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed!” (Is. 40)
Steven+
Scripture Reflections
Each church season offers a unique “movement of the soul,” a particular way of growing in grace. The movement of the soul Epiphany offers is not something we do, but instead something we receive. In Epiphany, we receive a revelation of God’s character in the person of Jesus Christ. Do we see him clearly? Do we receive him? To that end…
On Sunday, we will hear Luke 5:1-11. Though many might not remember the reference, the story is familiar:
Jesus is teaching near the water and the crowds are getting dense and hard to manage. Peter, Andrew, James, and John (all of whom already know Jesus) are on the shore, washing and repairing their nets after a terrible night of fishing. They must have been exhausted, frustrated, and more than a little bit worried, because their families were depending on them! At this point, Jesus asks Peter for the use of his boat, so that he can sit a few yards offshore and teach without getting pushed into the water by the crowd. No doubt Peter was tired, but John the Baptist had told Andrew that Jesus was the Lamb of God (What in the world did John mean?), and so it seemed imprudent to say, “no.” So Peter got back in the boat and took the oars out, nodding off in the sunlight as he tried to listen to Jesus.
But then the quiet command came. “Go out deeper, and let down your nets.” We can imagine Peter thinking, “Carpenters! Since when do they know how to fish? In the middle of the day, with this net, on that spot on the lake? I haven’t done something that pointless since the time my dad let me fish alone when I was 12!”
We know the end of the story: With his nets bursting, calling for help, Peter falls at Jesus’ feet, crying out that he is unworthy, full of sin, and Jesus should find someone more deserving. As they sorted and stored fish all afternoon, the whole incident must have run through his mind, over and over.
We want God to work on our timetables, to show up when we are prepared, but Peter’s story reveals that this isn’t always (usually?) the case. Peter was tired, frustrated, and worried, but that was exactly when Jesus stepped into his morning. He could have pushed him away (“Ask John! Can’t you see I’m busy?”), but instead, he said yes. At a moment when he was totally unprepared, completely unworthy, Jesus arrived.
So it is for us, if our eyes are open to see it. In the midst of frustrating and wearisome moments, days when our sin is heavy on our hearts, Jesus arrives. Reminders of his forgiveness, tastes of his kindness, the peace of his Spirit—he arrives to those who are weary, worn out, and worried. But how many times do we fail to see it? Our need itself—the exhaustion, the self-loathing, the worry—often blinds our eyes.
May Peter’s story be a lesson to us! Our God surprises us when we aren’t expecting him and comes to those who don’t deserve him. May our eyes be open to see!
Steven+