We were called this week to “Embrace the Mission.”
What mission? It is the sharing of the hope of new life made possible by Jesus’ death and resurrection until every creature on earth has heard from us and seen in us the truth of God’s unfathomable love.
As to how we approach that mission, we have to seek the vision that can only come from being fixated upon Jesus (it is born of worship). That’s the vision we were challenged to enlarge. But, let’s face it…we have a hard time embracing something for which we can only see the first step.
I have written before about my loathing of the stupid triptik – a device from days gone by that was basically a map of a desired journey that was chopped up into pieces and bound together. I hated that thing because I wanted to see the whole thing. I wanted to know the journey and not just the next step.
The reality is that the mission is so much bigger than me that I could not possibly see or understand it all. It’s so much greater than I am capable of comprehending. And I, like a single soldier among a great army must be fully, passionately, and unceasingly committed to the mission.
What I have come to recognize is that I don’t have to get my head around it in order to get throw my arms into it. I am called to embrace the mission that God reveals and to throw myself into the step before me, trusting that God will reveal the next step as my foot swings forward into it.
But, in the midst of all of this, I find a childhood memory rattling in my mind. As a young boy, I spent many great days with my grandparents in their hometown of Wewoka, Oklahoma. My Grandpa would go – sometimes two or three times a day – and walk down the main street in the town to the far end and back home again.
He might step into the hardware store and look for a bolt or a screw for something he needed to fix or go into the drug store for something Grandmother needed. He would often invite me along. I don’t know that I ever really knew what our objective was, but I got to go with Grandpa.
I would walk along beside him or sometimes just behind, trying to match his stride. It was tough because my short little legs didn’t stretch like his. And sometime he would reach out and grab my hand or my shoulder and keep me from walking into someone or stepping in front of a car. I was of no help but got to be a part of the journey. Sometimes I even was treated with a bottle of pop or a cherry limeade at the drug store because I was Grandpa’s helper.
I believe that God’s mission for me is way beyond my understanding of it. He invites me along because He wants me to join Him and go with Him and know Him more. And as I embrace the mission, He is accomplishing – both in and through me – His work of making all things new.
That, my friends, is a mission to embrace.