the Rubicon - BY REQUEST - Rooted in Mission not Maintenance Part#3

 Rob Perry says The world needs the Church to roll up its sleeves and re-enter abandoned communities - Part #3

3) Religious Phase – Towards Mission

Kierkegaard’s third sphere is the religious sphere. This existential realm goes beyond the ethical. This stage is only discovered by faith. Kierkegaard examines the religious phase in his book Fear and Trembling. In this study, Kierkegaard looks at Abraham’s (near) sacrifice of Isaac. He examines the motivation and the horror behind this humbling and confusing story. It is here that we enter the realm of faith. Kierkegaard said:

“But what did Abraham do?… He mounted the ass, he rode slowly down the path. All along he had faith, he believed that God would not demand Isaac of him, while still he was willing to offer him if that was indeed what was demanded. He believed on the strength of the absurd, for there could be no question of human calculation, and it was indeed absurd that God who demanded this of him should in the next instant withdraw the demand. He climbed the mountain, even in that moment when the knife gleamed he believed – that God would not demand Isaac. Certainly he was surprised by the outcome, but by means of a double movement he had come back to his original position and therefore received Isaac more joyfully than the first time.”

Nothing but faith could have sustained Abraham through this trial. The trial itself seemed ludicrous and paradoxical. Abraham was required to suspend the ethical and proceed on belief in God only. He did not believe that God would violate the ethical, but he carried on in faith that God would rectify the paradoxical command with morality. Faith sustained him, and God delivered Isaac. Abraham lived in the strength of the absurd.

The third sphere of our lives as Christians is when we surrender fully, and in faith allow ourselves to be led by God wherever and however he wills

For our purposes in examining mission, I would say that the third sphere of our lives as Christians is when we surrender fully, and in faith allow ourselves to be led by God wherever and however he wills. We are no long confined to our own wisdom. Instead we are called and commissioned to go wherever, and do whatever God commands.

God commanded Jeremiah: “Do not say, ‘I am only a child.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you.” This encapsulates the essence of mission. Although we feel inadequate, we go wherever God commands and do whatever he commands. Faith replaces fear, for God will protect and deliver us. If God calls us to a personal Jubilee, instructing us to give up our possessions, we need not be afraid, he will rescue us. If God calls us to leave our homes and move into the poorest area of our city, we need not be afraid, he will rescue us.

To go into the unknown involves an intense trust in God. It truly does require a “leap of faith.” The rich irony is in the fact that on the other side of the leap of faith, we find a fulfillment and joy that is indescribable to those who have not yet leapt. Frederick Buechner said that a person’s place “is where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” I, and countless others, can only testify that this is true.

Some years ago I led a team that took a group of community children from Toronto to a camp during the spring break. For seven days, 60 loud and hyperactive six- to 12-year-old residents of the urban jungle descended upon the wilderness campground. Due to some miscalculation and a lack of volunteers, the staff was drastically outnumbered and the children smelled blood. I lost my voice on the first day, and by the third, we were all exhausted and beginning to be afraid of total collapse. Kids were fighting and threatening each other, some were continually trying to run away, while others would barricade themselves in the cabin to avoid going to programs. Between replacing broken property and cleaning lice out of hair and clothes, I found a new depth to my prayer life, as I pleaded God not to allow any kids (or staff) to get damaged by the end of the week.

In the midst of the turmoil, God’s Spirit descended upon camp. As day seven approached, we had a night in which we gave the kids an opportunity to accept Jesus as Saviour. Slowly one by one, kids came forward to the Mercy Seat – girls mostly. The boys were still feeling out the situation, sitting at the back, acting cool. That is until Jamal made his move. Now Jamal was never the most popular kid. He was a bit chubby and he was awkward in basketball. He always tried just that little bit too hard. He was too influenced by other kids, and would follow whoever happened to be around. But here he was, the first boy standing. Jamal stood up at the back and made the trembling journey to the front of the room where he knelt and prayed with a leader. Who should follow but his whole crew. The five or six other boys with whom Jamal had spent the week filed in line behind him and almost inexplicably found themselves kneeling at the front of the room as well. It was a beautiful moment.

But that’s not even the best part. Later that night in our cabin I recounted the day’s events with the boys. “I am really proud of you guys,” I said. “Today you made some very important decisions.” Just then another leader came in, and I told the guys to share with her the good news from the day. All at once they started to share the story of decision day. Andrew, an especially enthusiastic young man, spoke up and said, “Yeah it was great! I got up first and went to the front, and then all the others followed…” It was at that point Jamal sat up stiffly in his bunk, and indignantly interjected, “F___ off! I accepted Jesus first!”

As long as I live I will never forget those six words!

When I was in the southern part of Russia, I visited some refugee camps that tented hundreds of families who had fled from the Chechen war. In a couple short weeks I had become attached to a wonderful group of children who lived there.

I happened to be visiting during their annual festival, a competition in which children from different refugee camps presented songs, artwork and dance. In the days preceding the festival, I sat in on the kids’ rehearsals as they tried their best to put together what would be the best possible presentation for the day. For hour upon hour I sat and listened as they practised. To this day, these are only the Russian phrases I have memorized: “Hello” “How are you?” and “It’s cool that you got on TV” – the repetitious line from the chorus of the pop song the kids sang in their presentation.

When the day finally came for the competition, I sat beaming with paternal pride (as if I had anything whatsoever to do with their presentation). The kids sang, danced, displayed their artwork and generally had a great time. A group from another camp got up and put on a stunning display of their national dance. It was a close race, but when all was said and done, there was something far more important going on than song and dance. For those few days, in that refuge far away from demolished homes, bombs and gunfire, hundreds of children displaced by war came together. And for a short time they were centre-stage; the kids were the singers, the dancers, the artists and the musicians. They were the stars and they shined!

In two weeks that seemed like two years, I got to know a small group of kids who had lived through horrors I cannot imagine. I got to see them at their very best. And, in case you are wondering, yes, they won! But truly, that’s not important. What matters is that in those moments those children felt like the most important people on earth, not forgotten victims of an often-ignored war.

After my two weeks were finished, as I was preparing to get in a taxi and leave, Khavazh, one of the boys who I had spent the most time with came to me, and through a translator asked me a question… another phrase I will never forget: he simply said, “When are you coming back?” Of course I had no answer for him. The kids in my community were waiting for me. But at that moment, how I wished I could stay. And in that moment, as it has so many times before and since, the Scripture resonated in my heart, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.” If only my fellow Christians knew the riches they were missing. If only the Church could understand the depth of joy and meaning found on the other side of mission. John Ortberg wrote:

“Jesus took a little child in his arms and said, in effect, ‘Here’s your ministry. Give yourselves to those who can bring you no status or clout. Just help people. You need this little child. You need to help this little child, not just for her sake, but more for your sake. For if you don’t, your whole life will be thrown away on an idiotic contest to see who is the greatest. But if you serve her – often and well and cheerfully and out of the limelight – then the day may come when you do it without thinking, ‘What a wonderful thing I’ve done.’ Then you will begin to serve naturally, effortlessly, for the joy of it. Then you will begin to understand how life in the kingdom works.’”

It is through mission that we express perfect love for Jesus Christ. This outpouring of love is costly. It involves a terrifying leap of faith to go wherever God sends you. But the good news is that after that initial leap, the adventure is only beginning. To maintain a mission focus is not easy, but to do so is to be significant. Mission is the key to the meaningful life we have all been called to.

Conclusions
Kierkegaard’s three spheres are mere guidelines. No one person or congregation fits perfectly into any sphere; I am sure that we can identify personal areas of selfish motivation as in the aesthetic sphere, rigid adherence to the rule of the law, as in the ethical sphere, and moments of unselfish obedience and faith, as in the religious sphere. However, if we are Christians, we are called to mission. There is no escaping this reality.

Todd Gitlin, an old time 1960s protestor, posits three complementary motivations for anyone who wants to wade into political activism. Adventure, duty and love. I believe he has hit on something that goes beyond politics, and takes us into the realm of mission. The fact is that God understands people, and when we make ourselves available to him, he meets us where we are.

If our main motivation is fun and adventure, we could become downhearted, wallow in our selfish nature, and do nothing. Or, like Samson, God could use our flamboyant nature and our desire for fun and new experiences as our motivation to go places no one else would ever dream of going. Shock rocker Marilyn Manson once bemoaned the fact that there were no new adventures out there. He said, “What other violence can you show? What other drug can you do? What other thing can you get pierced? It’s all been done.” There are no new adventures out there. We keep attempting to create the fastest roller coasters, the highest bungee jumps and the wildest parties. The one true adventure that is left is simply to fearfully and courageously follow wherever God leads – to the darkest places on earth, or to people in our own apartment building. God, as Redeemer, seeks to redeem our natures, not destroy them.

What about duty? I believe there are two ways to look at the word duty. We can look at it as a strict adherence to a set of rules, which is very limiting. Our other option is to confront our responsibility to the world. Mother Teresa once said that, “If there are poor in the world, it is because you and I don’t give enough.” This is a stinging indictment from a woman who lived her life among the poorest of the poor. However, we must take our duty to love and care for others seriously. This is not legalism, but responsibility. We are comfortable and well fed while elsewhere people are dying of starvation. Yes, we have a duty. We have a God-given duty to care for others.

Adventure, duty and love, but the greatest of these is love.

Love is God’s defining characteristic and our highest aim. At the end of the day, we may live among the poor, give up our possessions, preach the Word and feed the hungry, but if we don’t have love, we are nothing. Eternally, our lives count for nothing. Maintenance takes root when love becomes distorted, and love for self replaces love for God. Mission is the pure expression of our love for Jesus Christ and for others.

Someone wrote: “Pity sighs, and says, ‘how awful.’ Compassion weeps, and says, ‘I’ll help.’” The world needs people who will help. Much more than that, the world needs the Church to roll up its sleeves, re-enter abandoned communities and help. Because, like Jesus, we weep when we gaze upon fallen Jerusalem. We weep when we see empty monuments where life-giving inner-city churches once were. We weep because all around the world mothers are weeping for lost children. We weep because every day people die without a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. We must weep. And from that place of brokenness, with our hearts firmly set on God, it is time for us to take that courageous leap of faith and to respond to God’s call to go wherever he tells us to go and do whatever he tells us to do.

 

Writer: Rob Perry works with children and youth at 614 Regent Park, Toronto, Canada.

Photo: John McAlister

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