A Missional Vision: Reflections on Matthew 28:16-20

The text comes as a culmination of an identity-forming story. It is a missional vision naturally embraced, not a burden to be enforced through command. Jesus' words envision a preferred journey shaped by a missional way of life. It is not a mandate to grow a church through attractive programs, or a marketing strategy stressing the personal benefits of membership. Instead, it reflects a sense that the time has come that what was 'whispered in [their] ear . . . [is now] . . . to be "proclaimed from the roof tops" (10:27). A worldwide mission is a spontaneous response of a people captivated by the joy of the good news they are privileged to share.

It is a mission given to those in process – who waver between devotion and uncertainty (v. 16). God invites our participation in mission in spite of human fallibility and weakness. He has chosen to reveal his wisdom and power through the fragility of jars of clay (2Cor.4:7).

It is a mission moved by Jesus’ authority and power to reunite “heaven and earth” (6:10). It is his way and teachings that heal the rupture between heaven and earth.

It is a mission with transforming implications for all creation. Discipling is a holistic mission of transformation that enables one to see the world through a different lens and hear voices that others have muted.

It is a mission involving remarkable subversive acts that challenge the ways of the world with an alternative vision. Baptism was not so much a way to reserve a seat in heaven as it was a dramatization of a preferred journey.

It is a mission that embraces Jesus as both teacher and core curriculum. From the beginning our mission sensitizes new believers in the way of the Kingdom as an alternative vision of justice, the plight of others, and creative responses to violence and oppression.

It is a mission that finds its courage and hope in the reality that the risen Jesus has promised his abiding presence. It is now in the believing community that Jesus’ Kingdom vision is mediated and enfleshed as an alternative to old world thinking. The church will take mission seriously when a missional identity is formed by the same story that transformed the early disciples.

[See the helpful series of articles on Evangelism in Interpretation (April 1994)]

A Vision of Life Together Mt. 18:1-35

A dramatic turning point in Matthew's story of Jesus happens in 16:21, when Jesus began to make explicit to his disciples concerning the fate that awaited him in Jerusalem. In the scene just prior Peter had exhibited a flash of insight when he broke through conventional thought with the confession "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God" (16:13-16). But his identity assessment was rooted in contemporary messianic expectations of a march on Jerusalem leading to Rome's overthrow and a restoration of Israel's political fortunes. While Jesus does envision a march to Jerusalem it will instead culminate in his arrest, humiliation, and death.

Peter cannot fathom such a scenario and insists that he knows better the course of events: "Never Lord, this will never happen to you" (16:22). Although good intentioned, Peter had become an instrument of Satan, who works through human aspirations and misplaced values to distract from the mission at hand (cf.,4:10). Conventional values and human wisdom have always sought to blunt the way of the cross with the more accommodating message of meeting personal needs and enjoying the benefits of celebrity status.

In his southernly journey to Jerusalem Jesus used the occasion to reinforce to his disciples the new and radical values of heaven's Kingdom (16:24-20:34). He reiterates his fate in Jerusalem (17:20-21; 20:17-19), and draws them into teaching moments to enable them to see things through the lens of God's emerging Reign. In chapter 18 Jesus launches into his fourth major discourse (5:1-7:28; 9:36-11:1; 13:1-52), in response to a dispute over who is top dog among the disciples (18:1). While Jesus speaks about his approaching death, they are in turmoil over which one of them stands at the top of their imagined pyramid of power, status, and control. It's time for a lesson on doing life together:

Like children in the ancient world (18:2-5) who have no status, clout, or privilege within the broader culture, so in the Kingdom there is no hierarchy of worth or power. Each stand in a solidarity of dependence upon a gracious God.

The community values the social nobodies, and is at its best by how it treats the least of those who journey with them (18:6-9). Patterns of contempt and disregard directed toward those lacking social clout and damaged by the ways of the world will not be tolerated in the Kingdom community. A hand that refuses to be extended must be hacked off. Feet that will not carry you into the space of the oppressed are in need of amputation. The Kingdom community counters the world's callousness with sensitivity, and heals the wounds inflicted with a soothing balm.

The plight of the one cannot be lost sight of while we play the numbers game (18:10-14). The urgent care needed to rescue the one takes precedent over the maintenance of the many. While numbers have a tendency to make the one expendable, in the Kingdom there are none that are dispensable.

Even the one who "sins against you" (18:15-20) is extended the opportunity to practice the Kingdom virtue of reconciliation. In the Kingdom the offended pursues the offender so that together they can experience the transforming power of reconciliation. There are no cold wars in the Kingdom, either you are working for peace and restored relationships, or you are part of a dysfunctional body. It is in this pursuit of peace that Jesus promises to be in our midst (18:20).

All this talk about inclusiveness and reconciliation stirs a question in Peter: "Lord how many times shall I forgive someone who sins against me? Up to seven times?" (18:21). The calculating human tendency is to look for the boundaries and document where the lines are to be drawn. Although Peter's proposal exceeded rabbinic teachings, where three acts of forgiveness were sufficient, his flaw was a preoccupation with the limits. Too often the values of the Kingdom are gutted and muted by the hypothetical and the failure to imagine the possibilities.

If your counting how many times you've forgiven someone, you're not really forgiven them, only postponing revenge (N. T. Wright, Matthew for Everyone2:40). Jesus' "seven times seventy" is meant to contrast his call for unlimited forgiveness with the vengeful spirit of Lamech: "If Cain is avenged seven times, then Lamech seventy-seven times" (Gen. 4:24). A community of forgiven must be a community who practices forgiveness.

Jesus then illustrates his point with a parable intended to drive home the way of the Kingdom (18:23-35). Forgiveness received is forgiveness extended. The slave was not transformed by the extravagant expression of the generosity extended to him. Instead it was business as usual. What I find significant is that his callousness was not missed on a watching world who expected better and called him to account (vv.30-31). While the King would forgive the man a debt he could never repay, no mercy would be extended to one who had merciful resources and refused to make a difference in another life. Such actions are not indigenous to the Kingdom. The failure to mediate God's mercy proves oneself to be oblivious to the way God works to bless others. Freed from debt the slave should have turned his blessing into a blessing for others. That's the way of the Kingdom.

The attractional appeal of the Kingdom community is based on an expression of power that transforms, a solidarity based on a common dependency, a sense of justice that cares for the least, values the one and seeks their restoration, pursues reconciliation, and ever extends the hand of forgiveness. Who wouldn't want to walk with such people in the journey of life?

Itinerant Radicals: Jesus' Missional Vision (Mt. 9:36-11:1)

Jesus' missional vision recorded in 9:36-11:1 is often ignored in the rush to get to what is termed the Great Commission of 28:18-20. But seeing Jesus' second discourse in the light of the narrative flow of Matthew's story helps us to see the importance of this discourse for shaping a missional vision.

Jesus begins his public ministry with the announcement that God's reign/saving presence has invaded the human experience (4:17). When God's reign draws near it disrupts lives and creates a new identity and radically different priorities. Jesus' initial call of two sets of brothers (4:18-22) gives them a new identity ("come follow me"), and a new purpose in life ("I will show you how to fish for people"). The call is formative of an alternative community infused with a profound sense of purpose and mission.

Jesus' first discourse (Sermon on the Mount 5:1-7:27), is intended to radically reshape the way the disciples see the world. The SM is fundamentally identity- transforming and community-shaping by awakening their imagination to a way of life lived in conformity to the reign of God. Old world thinking is shattered by a vision of a community ethos that breathes a different ethic and embraces priorities that challenge conventional thought. The disciple's association with Jesus necessitated being trained to see the world through a radically different lens.

Moving from the discourse we encounter a series of scenes that highlight the contours of Jesus' messianic mission (8:1-9:34): Unclean conditions are cleansed and social alienations bridged (8:1-4); ethnic prejudices are overcome by a great faith (8:5-13); broken lives are made whole and defilement neutralized (8:14-17); the chaotic conditions of a storm are calmed (8:23-27); the tyranny of evil is shattered (8:28-34); forgiveness is extended (9:1-8); those pushed to the margins are invited to draw near (9:9-11); the gift of mercy is extended to the outcasts (9:12-13); conventional thought and the religious status qua are challenged with a radical vision of mission and identity (9:13; 14-17). Such actions evoke stunned amazement (9:8, 33), searching questions (e.g., "Could this be the son of David" 12:23), and calloused assumptions, ("It is by the prince of demons he cast out demons" 9:34). Jesus leads his disciples into diverse situations where his teachings and their experiences come together in meaningful learning moments.

Ultimately the disciples will learn Kingdom realities in the trenches of a mission patterned after Jesus' paradigmatic ways. The second discourse in Matthew (9:36-11:1) highlights the contours and radical dimensions of a mission conforming to Jesus' itinerancy, strategy, and method. It is easy to dismiss the force of Jesus' vision by locating it's fulfillment in the experience of the early disciples. The itinerant radicalism of the missional vision applied to the early church but has no relevance for doing mission in the twenty-first century. But as Ulrich Luz observes, for Matthew, "To be a church implies . . . discipleship and imitation of Jesus . . . [Therefore] Matthew addresses the whole church [past and present] as a missionary church . . ." (The Theology of the Gospel of Matthew pp. 77-78).

Certainly there are time conditioned factors applying specifically to the experience of the early disciples. Their limited commission to the "lost sheep of Israel" applied to the earliest stage of their missional task (10:6). But earlier Jesus was emphatic that Gentiles would ultimately participate in Kingdom blessings (8:11). And, a later commission would include all ethnic groups (28:18-20). Initially the good news of the Kingdom was announced to the chosen people in fulfillment of God's promises to the offspring of Abraham. In addition, the experience of being "flogged in the synagogues", and brought before Gentile "governors and kings" (10:17-19), applied to the experience of the post-Pentecost church. Matthew's inclusion of the mission discourse has timeless principles applicable to the mission, character, and message of any missional church:

A missional vision begins with a compassionate heart that can be touched by the plight of another (9:36).

A missional vision is not discouraged by opposition (9:34), but prays for and discerns the possibilities (9:37).

A missional vision is grounded in the authority of Jesus who empowers his people, not institutional strategy (10:1).

A missional vision involves a community of the ordinary, with diverse backgrounds and experiences (10:2-4).

A missional vision focuses on the good news of God's reign and saving presence (10:7).

A missional vision responds to brokenness, uncleanness, and the tyranny of evil with the liberating powers and vision of the new creation (10:8-9).

A missional vision does not turn mission into a lucrative opportunity for making money (10:8). Jesus' missionaries are content with shelter, nourishment, and a cup of water (10:12-14; 40-42).

A missional vision involves emissaries who learn to put their trust in God for their basic needs (10:9-10).

A missional vision ventures into hostile and dangerous territories currently under siege by evil and intolerable forces. They run the risk of rejection, arrest, beatings, and even death (10:17-20)

A missional vision responds to hostilities and rejection by a continual search for futile soil, a creative shrewd response, and a transparent innocence that no one can dispute (10:16, 23). As Wright observes, "Without innocence, shrewdness becomes manipulative; without shrewdness innocence becomes naivety" (Matthew for Everyone p. 117).

A missional vision is willing to share the homelessness and rejection of the son of Man "who had no place to lay his head" (8:20).

A missional vision entails a fearless spirit that radically trust in the "Father's care" (10:26-30).

A missional vision builds a network of friends where a welcoming cup of water is extended (10:40-42)

In Matthew's story the disciples are not depicted as actually venturing out on the mission envisioned by Jesus (cf. Mark 6:6-12, 30; Luke 10:1-17). In fact, the discourse concludes with Jesus going "on from there to teach and preach in the towns of Galilee" (11:1). It may be that Matthew, the consummate teacher, shifts the attention back to Jesus' missional activity to remind readers (church) that the realization of a missional tour envisioned in the discourse is only possible by an ongoing association with Jesus who defines and embodies the Missio Dei.

Reductionism of the Gospel

Last night I ventured out in the snowy Northwest to hear Darrell Guder speak at Whitworth University. Professor Guder is well known for editing the seminal volume of the missional church: Missional Church: A Vision for the Sending of the Church in North America, (Eerdmans, 1998). He is currently Dean of Academic Affairs at Princeton Seminary, and Professor of Missional and Ecumenical Theology. In the late 1980s, Guder and several others formed the Gospel and Our Culture Network (GOCN, http://www.gocn.org/main.cfm) to help the Western church to rethink its identity and mission. Stirred by the assessment of Western culture by missiologist Lesslie Newbingin, this group produced some of the best biblical and theological reflection on mission, church, and cultural engagement.

Their analysis of the Western church concluded that, "Neither the structure nor the theology of our established Western traditional churches is missional. They are shaped by the legacy of Christendom. That is, they have been formed by centuries in which Western civilization considered itself formally and officially Christian" (Missional Church, pp.5-6). For the most part modern churches continue to operate under the delusion that if we only tweak our programs and employ better marketing skills we can reverse current trends. But Guder and the GOCN team insist that the problem can only be addressed on the spiritual and theological level. It is essentially an identity problem (who are we?), and a misplaced sense of mission (what are we to do?). The solution involves a critical rethinking on what church faithfulness looks like, and a remapping of the cultural terrain to reengage cultural trends.

Of the many things that resonated with me in Guder's lecture last night was his observation that many North American churches have opted for survival in our post-Christendom cultural context by articulating and practicing a reductionism of the Gospel. They have gutted the message of the cross and the way of the Kingdom by "another gospel" (to use the language of Paul, Gal. 1:6-9). I don't think it was a deliberate and calculating effort, just the cost of doing business and maintaining customer satisfaction. When the fourth century church cozied up to the Empire and the Constantinian agenda it became an instrument of the State, justifying its imperialistic agendas and legitimizing its means to an end (e.g., Just War theories). To maintain favor and a privileged position within a constituency the church has a knack of slicing up the Gospel and consuming only those parts that are culturally least offensive.

In what ways has the Western church tended to reshape the Gospel to fit its cultural context and reinforce the priorites of the local church's institutional survival and expansion:

Our language and praxis shifts from a focus on the global kingdom and God's care for all creation to the survival and extension of the institutional church. "The church is neither the purpose nor goal of the Gospel but rather its instrument and witness." (Missional Church, p. 6). The Gospel of the Kingdom is always more radical, inclusive, and transforming than the domesticated message of church affiliation.

Our message of salvation has often been narrowed to a personal encounter and private walk with Jesus. The church feeds this egocentric "savedness" by promoting its own spin on conversion based on a singular event, and that only happens within the confines of our sacred space. But God's missional care is for the restoration and healing of all creation; and God is at work in lives long before we put our spin on the conversion process.

Growth of the institution has sometimes been made the ultimate sign of divine favor. There is a difference in growing an audience and building community. It is reductionism to equate numbers with the favor of God. When Paul thinks of church growth the language he uses is not typical of our numbers-oriented churches: "I pray that your love for each other will overflow more and more, and that you keep on growing in knowledge and understanding" (Phil. 1:9).

A missional church is sometimes defined as collecting funds and sending them off to some foreign land. But suppose instead of the missions committee deciding where to spend their missions budget, the entire congregations budget were an exercise in mission? As noted by Guder, "Thus our challenge today is to move from church with mission to missional church."

Suppose our mission field were our neighbor and our mandate was not to reproduce Christian communities in the image of the institution? We need kingdom outposts that reflect the character of Jesus, and who participate with God in the healing of all creation.

Thank you Dr. Guder for your foundational work in recalling the church to its identity and mission.

The Way of the Kingdom: Reuniting Heaven and Earth

My booklet on the The Way of the Kingdom is an attempt to stir the conversations and excite the imagination of what life might look like if we defined our mission as providing our planet a glimpse of the Kingdom of heaven. Suppose the church saw its primary mission as embodying a way of life that foreshadowed the ultimate culmination of God's intentions for the creation? Suppose our preoccupations with departing the planet for some transcendent bliss were replaced with an earthly mission that creatively embodied a new reality in the here and now? Suppose all our prayers and sentiment ultimately orbited the singular sentiment: "Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven" (Mt. 6:10)?

In part one of this booklet I isolate four fundamental perspectives about God that shape and motivate a called people. Seeing the way of God is foundational for a missional people. Part two focuses upon Jesus who leads our spiritual journey and provides the contours of our missional vision. Part three presents a vision of what church might look like if it understood itself totally in terms of its role in God's emerging Kingdom. In Part four we imagine life between the times of Jesus' first appearing and the ultimate reuniting of heaven and earth under his glorious Reign. I am convinced that God is ushering in an era of renewal and a deeper reflection on what it means to be God's church living in North America. It is my prayer that this booklet might help generate the questions and awaken the imagination to God's new world order and our participation as agents of the new creation.

You may download the booklet free at: http://www.lulu.com:80/content/1872500

The Language of the Kingdom

"The limits of my language are the limits of my world." Ludwig Wittgenstein

Missiologists are well aware that learning the language of a people provides a window into their heart and social priorities. The cultural discourse of a people not only transmits information it discloses a way of seeing the world and dominant patterns and priorities of life. As noted by David Hesselgrave, "Linguistic patterns themselves determine how [one] perceives the world, and . . . thinks about it" (Communicating Christ Cross Culturally). Alexander the Great knew that the way to conquer a people was not so much by the sword, as it was hellenizing a people by the spread of the Greek language. The Greek language provided a new set of categories and a conceptual framework that radically altered the way people thought and conceptualized their world.

Christians need to be bilingual, able to coherently speak the language of the Kingdom in the language of the dominant culture. Early Christians knew well the propaganda of the Empire and subverted its meaning with a radically different message. Vocabulary and dominate themes promoting the ideology, accomplishments, and imperialism of the Empire were often recast in clever and innovative ways to subtly challenge the claims of the Empire. The Roman boast of the Pax Romana was countered by the story of the Prince of Peace. The Roman tendency to herald military victories as "Good News" (="gospel"), was countered by the real "good news" of God's victory in Christ. The pompous and arrogant claims of the Caesar's divinity through honorific titles (e.g., "Lord", "Son of God", and "Savior"), was clearly challenged by a radically different Lord and Savior. While they used the vocabulary of the Empire it was obvious that the terminology came wrapped in new wineskin's filled and informed with a radically different reality.

The modern effort to communicate in culturally relevant terms has often failed to realize that the grid through which we sift the message might actually distort or blur the Kingdom vision. When our language reeks of the corporate world it often produces a cost-effective model that loses sight of Kingdom virtue and the value of the one. When our language is permeated by the categories of the psychotherapist, our focus often becomes individual well-being and happiness at the expense of selfless service and an other-directedness. When the language of the Kingdom is hi-jacked to support a political agenda, the Kingdom's message of peace and justice is often distorted by national interest. In fact, the language of the Kingdom reflects a way of life and priorities that may seem foreign, strange, and even foolish to the conventions of old world thinking. For example, how do the following virtues of the Kingdom resonate in a culture dominated by old world thinking:

Humility in an age of Self-Promotion
Forgiveness in an age of Retaliation
Patience in an age of Instant Gratification
Generosity in an age of Greed
Compassion in an age of Self-Absorption
Love in an age of Eroticism
Truthfulness in an age of Deceit
Gentleness in an age of Competition
Kindness in an age of Personal Rights
Self-control in an age of Addiction
Justice in an age of Violence
Peace in an age of Fragmentation

These virtues are indigenous to the Kingdom and form its most effective witness against old world thinking. The language of descent does not make much sense in a climb-the-ladder-culture. Such language is only intelligible to someone who takes seriously the narrative that informs and gives shape to a particular way of life. The articulation of these virtues are best done through the language of a counter- cultural lifestyle that gives these virtues their form and application.

Before we can speak to our culture of an alternative Kingdom and the dawn of the New Creation we must learn the language and grammar of a Kingdom not of this world. How do we communicate a message of peace when our language is dominated violence and revenge? How can we pray for our enemies if we cannot imagine an alternative future where reconciliation is possible? How does the Kingdom language of joy counter the personal quest for happiness? How can we better articulate biblical concepts like church, sin, salvation, and repentance in a way that remains faithful to biblical content, while connecting meaningfully to the human experience? In other words, how do we speak the language of the culture with a counter-cultural wisdom informed by a Kingdom not of this world?

"Everything Happens for a Purpose" Really??

It seems over the past few weeks I have heard Christians, spiritual advisers, celebrities, and various professionals affirm with a certain level of pious assurance --- "everything happens for a purpose". It may be a tragedy or an uncanny twist of good fortune that stimulates the notion that all events, good or bad, have an inherent purpose, and play a useful and necessary role in the broad scheme of things. While insight concerning the exact purpose a specific incident might intend may not be immediately forthcoming, living with the mystery of it all is too much for some self-proclaimed propheteers who speak with assurance concerning what God intended to communicate in the midst of tragedy: God sent a destructive tornado to teach us not to place too much confidence in the stuff of life. A hurricane is God's warning that certain lifestyles will not be tolerated. Or, God allowed a bridge to collapse in Minneapolis because he wanted the city to "fear him". But when innocent children die in the destructive chaos, do the lessons come at too high a price? When evil is unleashed in the form of the Holocaust did God ordain the event that some good might come from it? Are children afflicted with the debilitating effects of genetic disorders in order to teach parents some transcendent truth? There seems to be no discernible connection between the randomness of natural disasters and the level of sin characterizing those people who suffer through the trauma. If the American military can develop "smart bombs" to minimize innocent casualties, why can't tornadoes, hurricanes, and deadly germs be better targeted to eliminate only the most sinful? I can see some great lessons coming from more tactical strikes than nature's current random acts of destruction.

I find neither consolation nor an acceptable theology in the notion that everything that happens has a divine reason behind it. Certainly, as Paul affirmed, even in the most tragic events, God can "work for the good" (Rom. 8:28). But, God does not will evil, instead works to bring his soothing powers to diminish its sting. In Jesus we see God bringing order out of chaos, healing in the midst of disease, and life in the face of death. God has entered our pain and suffering and works from within to overcome its deadly effects. But how does the "everything happens for a reason" slant on life lead to the overthrow of injustices and unmasking evils masquerade? Maybe slavery was God's way to teach Afro-Americans humility?? I wonder what he's teaching a white affluent consumerists by blessing him with power and status?

Suppose, as suggested by Greg Boyd (Satan and the Problem of Evil), the world is a battlefield and all creation has been invaded by evil and sinister forces? Imagine a fallen world where even our physical environment has been so polluted and distorted from the original intention that moments of awe and peace are rocked in the next by nature's fury. A world where Satan stalks the planet like a roaring lion preying on the vulnerable and orchestrating an environment where the powerful think nothing of slaughtering the innocent (Mt.2:16-18). Though Satan has been defeated, his terrorist acts of war are calculated to undermine and hinder the emergence of God's Kingdom. We counter such efforts by embodying the way of the selfless lamb who will ultimately put an end to the destructive dragon and his schemes of enslavement. But, until we can identify our true enemy and understand his destructive ways we will not be a movement of liberation and deliverance.

Rather than the shallow assessment that "everything happens for a purpose", we must learn discernment and expose the "fruitless deeds of darkness" (Eph.5:8-13), and recognize the way of God in the world. God does not specifically ordain or intend every event or course of action in the world. Though we might learn certain virtues like patience, courage and faithfulness in the midst of evil, it should not be assumed that God has ordained every occurrence of gratuitous evil to teach us a lesson. Because God can work for the good in the midst of tragedy does not mean the tragedy was specifically designed to achieve a greater good. It's risky creating a world where humans are free to do evil, and natural disasters sweep away good people alongside the bad. Part of a life of faith is learning to live with the mystery of it all, and refusing to opt out for pious sounding cliches that only muddy the Sacred.