“Doubts and All”

Matthew 28:16-20

 

I’ve not seen the two “Mission Impossible” movies starring Tom Cruise, so I don’t know how they begin.  I am, however, old enough to remember the TV series of the same name.  Every one of those impossible missions began after a tape containing these words was played: “Your mission is, if you choose to accept it…”

At the last minute I almost changed the title of this sermon to “Mission Possible.”  Jesus commissioned those first disciples to carry on his mission.  He told them what he wanted them to do.  Please note that he didn’t ask; he told.  It wasn’t a request; it was an order.  And it still is. 

In essence Jesus has said to those who would faithfully follow him, “Your mission  – the mission for which I have chosen for you – is to continue the work that I have begun by going out into the world around you, making disciples and baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  You are to train others in the way of the cross.  You are to teach them the will of God as I have revealed it to you through my commandments. You are to teach them the ethics and lifestyle demanded by a life lived in accordance with the Kingdom of God.”

Let’s go back to those first disciples standing before Jesus on that mountaintop.  Let’s hear his words with their ears.  Let’s feel, as they felt, the full impact of those words.  They were hearing Jesus tell them to go on doing what they had observed him doing for three years.  They were feeling the full weight of this commission, including its potential costs.  Doing what Jesus did was a risky and mostly misunderstood business.  Although they would be doing it within the context of his resurrection, and although they had been promised the power, protection, and guidance of the Holy Spirit, they would always be living and working under the shadow of the cross.  It goes with the territory. 

Furthermore, they understood, in a way that we often forget, the context of Jesus’ commandments: the Sermon on the Mount.  Those were the commandments they were to live, model, obey, and teach.  They knew that if they were going to take the Sermon on the Mount seriously enough to live it, then they, like Jesus, were going to find themselves in conflict with the expectations, assumptions, laws, and conventional wisdom of not only their culture, but also every culture. 

They would be swimming against the tide of human sinfulness.  They would be lighting candles that would bring to light the darkness and corruption of the world.  They would be taking on the insidious powers and principalities of this world: corrupt and evil political and economic systems, systems that, mostly unconsciously, took their marching orders from the devil himself.  They would be taking on the demonic forces that ruled the dark side of the spiritual realm.  All the while recruiting, so to speak, others to join with them in the struggle.

No wonder some of them doubted.  Even as they worshiped him they still had questions about why Jesus’ ministry ended the way it did.  They still had trouble getting their minds around the notion of a kingdom that wasn’t political or materialistic.  They, like us, could see no practical way to live out the teachings of their Lord.  From their perspective and ours, it was “Mission Impossible.”

Jesus understood their doubts.  He didn’t judge or condemn them for having them.  Instead he gave them these words of encouragement: “God authorized and commanded me to commission you.  These orders come from the top.  There is no higher authority: not on earth, not in heaven, and definitely not in hell.  You are authorized and empowered to carry out your mission.  The very gates of hell cannot prevail against you.”

And there was more: “I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day, right up to the end of the age.  You have God’s own authority.  You’ll have my presence and the power of my Spirit every step of the way.  Your God-given power and authority will exceed that of the powers and principalities of earth and beyond.  The Devil id strong, but he’s already been whipped.  His demons can be disruptive, but only for a little while.  Go do what I’ve commissioned you to do.  I entrust you with it, doubts and all.  Not only is it ‘Mission Possible,’ it is ‘Mission Probable’.”

So it was, and so it is.  Our mission is Christ’s mission.  Our authority is God’s authority.  Our power source is no less than the Holy Spirit himself.  We go forth in the name of the Triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  We, doubts and all, go forth to carry out “Mission Possible.” 

Let’s hear that mission restated, this time in the words of the 1973 Proposed Declaration of Faith: “God sends us to proclaim the gospel… to tell all nations that Christ calls everyone to repentance, faith and obedience.  We are to proclaim by word and deed that Christ gave himself to set people free from sin and self-hatred, from ignorance and disease, from all forms of oppression, and even from death.  We are to offer them in Christ’s name fullness of life now and forever.”

It goes on: “We must not distort the gospel by weakening its promises or demands, by identifying it with oppressive structures, by pointing to ourselves instead of Christ.  We must not restrict our proclamation to persons just like ourselves.  We invite people everywhere to believe in Christ and become his followers.  We urge them to join us in telling others the good news…”

Do we hear all that?  Do we understand it?  Do we feel its full impact?  If not, we need some further exploration of the topic.  We cannot allow ourselves to leave here today without further exploring just what our mission is. 

Part of that involves knowing what it’s not.  Our mission is not the recruitment of warm bodies to fill up our sanctuary.  Nor is it corralling fresh volunteers to serve on committees.  It has absolutely nothing to do with making our annual statistical report look more positive.  It’s not about getting more givers in order to balance the budget.

We are called to proclaim the gospel in its fullness: all of its promises and all of its warnings and demands.  We are called to make known the Kingdom of God, never, ever identifying or confusing that Kingdom with any nation, government, system, or institution.  We are called to read, and read, and read again the Sermon on the Mount, to pray on it, chew on it, ponder on it, and then live it in all its riskiness. 

Before we can make disciples we have to be disciples.  We cannot learn discipleship without discerning God’s will as revealed in Scripture and made known in Jesus Christ.  We’ve got to take more seriously than ever before our need to confess our sins and repent of them.  We’ve got to get serious about obeying our Lord’s commandments – all of them, not just the ones we like.  We’ve got to get real about living lives of Christ-like love: in the world, in our community, in this congregation, and throughout our denomination. 

We’ve got to start practicing among ourselves things like forgiveness, reconciliation, understanding, and acceptance.  We need to get serious about becoming disciplined disciples, disciples who practice the spiritual disciplines of prayer, meditation, bible study, meaningful and passionate worship, and honest-to-goodness Christian fellowship.  And those are the easy ones.  There are also those disciplines called stewardship and fasting.  We need to learn how to let go of what we have in order to receive what we need, to learn how to empty ourselves in order that we might be filled. 

Will we do these things perfectly?  No.  Will we have our moments of doubt, fear, and reluctance?  Undoubtedly.  Will such discipleship be impossible?  We might think so, but we’ll be wrong.  Discipleship, just like disciple making, is risky.  It’s scary.  It isn’t always easy.  It is possible.  We have the authority.  We have the power.  So, doubts and all, let’s use them.  Amen.