One of the great privileges of overseeing the doctoral program is meeting some great practitioners--those leading churches, writing books, impacting students in the academic world. This past week, we had Alan Hirsch and Michael Frost teaching on the missional church at Western. On the weekend, Michael and his wife stayed to minister at Village. What a delightful couple! All I can say is that God powerfully spoke through him in Acts 8. The only way to have missed the challenge was to be brain dead or spiritually dead. If we are followers of Jesus, we have this call on our lives to go wherever He sends. No one gets a pass from the privilege.
Sitting in the congregation, I could hear God’s challenge so clear to me, to us—“Are you willing to go where I send you”? Like Philip, am I willing to be swept up in the whirlwind of divine activity? It’s a bit scary. Some years ago, when we sensed God was pulling us up, roots and all, to leave SE Portland and head for Europe, we went through the painful withdrawals, the giving up of proximity to family, friends, and nearness to things convenient and familiar. But, of course, we realized eventually that what we lost was very little compared to what we gained. But could I do this again? Would I be willing, if God were to say, “Pull up roots and go to…”? Not that going has to mean going abroad, or even moving to another State. Am I willing to more intentionally go into my neighborhood, establish closeness, and step into this “prevenient grace”, this movement of the Spirit that is well out in front of me? Will I believe that God is always about doing something amazing, and inviting me to be a participant in all of this?
This has been rattling around in my head sense the weekend, and I hope it keeps unsettling me—for the rest of my life! For when we stop contemplating where God wants to send us each day, He may as well take us home. When we stop hearing “Go!”, we may as well assume He is no longer working with us, or working out there in front of our lives—way before all human decision and endeavor. We may as well assume God is no longer God, for He is, in His essence, this missional God.
At the end, I wanted to stand up and say “Amen!” to all that God was saying to us, but Michael was not finished. He had his own Amen to close the message, a poem by Adrian Plass—a poem as compelling as any I have heard in a long time:
When I became a Christian I said, Lord, now fill me in,
Tell me what I’ll suffer in this world of shame and sin.
He said, your body may be killed, and left to rot and stink,
Do you still want to follow me?
I said Amen - I think.
I think Amen, Amen I think, I think I say Amen,
I’m not completely sure, can you just run through that again?
You say my body may be killed and left to rot and stink,
Well, yes, that sounds terrific, Lord, I say Amen - I think.
But, Lord, there must be other ways to follow you, I said,
I really would prefer to end up dying in my bed.
Well, yes, he said, you could put up with the sneers and scorn and spit,
Do you still want to follow me? I said Amen - a bit.
A bit Amen, Amen a bit, a bit I say Amen,
I’m not entirely sure, can we just run through that again?
You say I could put up with sneers and also scorn and spit,
Well, yes, I’ve made my mind up, and I say, Amen - a bit.
Well I sat back and thought a while, then tried a different ploy,
Now, Lord, I said, the Good book says that Christians live in joy.
That’s true he said, you need the joy to bear the pain and sorrow,
So do you want to follow me, I said, Amen - tomorrow.
Tomorrow, Lord, I’ll say it then, that’s when I’ll say Amen,
I need to get it clear, can I just run through that again?
You say that I will need to joy, to bear the pain and sorrow,
Well, yes, I think I’ve got it straight, I’ll say Amen - tomorrow.
He said, Look, I’m not asking you to spend an hour with me
A quick salvation sandwich and a cup of sanctity,
The cost is you, not half of you, but every single bit,
Now tell me, will you follow me? I said Amen - I quit.
I’m very sorry Lord I said, I’d like to follow you,
But I don’t think religion is a manly thing to do.
He said forget religion then, and think about my Son,
And tell me if you’re man enough to do what he has done.
Are you man enough to see the need, and man enough to go,
Man enough to care for those whom no one wants to know,
Man enough to say the thing that people hate to hear,
To battle through Gethsemane in loneliness and fear.
And listen! Are you man enough to stand it at the end,
The moment of betrayal by the kisses of a friend,
Are you man enough to hold your tongue, and man enough to cry?
When nails break your body-are you man enough to die?
Man enough to take the pain, and wear it like a crown,
Man enough to love the world and turn it upside down,
Are you man enough to follow me, I ask you once again?
I said, Oh Lord, I’m frightened, but I also said Amen.
Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen; Amen, Amen, Amen,
I said, Oh Lord, I’m frightened, but I also said, Amen.
I’m certain we all feel a bit of this.
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