The Mission of the Church: Until the Last One Comes In

Luke 15:1-10
The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
(3rd in a series of 5)

In a sermon this summer at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship General Assembly in Charlotte, Bill Leonard, who has preached here on a number of occasions and who recently retired from his post as Dean of the Divinity School at Wake Forest University, told a story about preaching one morning at First Baptist Church Asheville not too long ago. He departed from his prepared text to take a shot at the best-selling end-time fantasy books in the “Left Behind” series. He said, “If the rapture comes, I’m not leaving. I’m going to grab hold of a tree and hang on tight until it’s over. Jesus said, ‘Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age,’ and I’m staying here with Jesus until the very end, until the last one comes in.”

He returned to his prepared text and didn’t think another thing about it. After worship, as people were speaking to him on the way out of church, he noticed a tall, lanky, rather awkward teen-aged boy hanging back and watching while he shook hands and spoke to people. After everyone else had left, the teenager walked up and shook his hand. “Can I stay with you?” he asked. “Excuse me?” Bill said. “Can I stay with you, you know, until the last one comes in? I want to be there for the last one.” “I want to be there for the last one.”

You and I live in an era of the American church that is dominated in some circles by a thirst for spiritual escapism. Millions of American Christians have lifted “Beam me up, Scotty!” right out of Star Trek and dropped it into their Christian belief system as though it were in the Bible. It’s not. But faced with a world filled with uncertainty because our loss of trust and confidence in institutions that we once relied on for stability and order in the world—government, the church, marriage, family, the educational establishment, the medical establishment, the legal establishment, among others—American Christians have flocked to a spiritual escapism that makes them wish for a rapture to carry them away. They want to leave it all behind before it gets any worse. In spiritual escapism, the mission of the church is to produce pious, holy, and orthodox believers who will be worthy of rapture, worthy of escaping the trials and tribulations of this world for the greener pastures and gilded streets of heaven.

In the narrative frame of this morning’s gospel lesson, Jesus and his followers are not on a journey to greener pastures and gilded streets. Jesus is on the way to the Via Dolorosa and his death on a cross. And he has told the crowds around him that unless they are willing to carry the cross and follow him, they cannot be his disciple (Luke 14:27). In the meantime, good religious people, “the Pharisees and the scribes,” Luke’s gospel calls them, complain that Jesus “welcomes sinners and eats with them” (Luke 15:2). That’s a far cry from “he beams up his pious, holy, and orthodox followers into heaven.”

The mission of the church, insofar as it reflects God’s redemptive mission in the world, has nothing to do with spiritual escapism. In this morning’s gospel lesson, Jesus tells a pair of lost-and-found parables that illustrate God’s effort—the lengths to which God will go—in searching out even a single treasured soul. God is like the shepherd who when even a single sheep is missing searches it out and carries it home on God’s broad shoulders. God is like the woman who when she discovers that a single coin is missing turns the house upside down to find it. Search and recovery is God’s mission and the mission of the church.

This morning for the first time, one of our mini-buses is rolling through Greenville to provide transportation to Triune Mercy Center for homeless persons who couldn’t otherwise get there for worship and fellowship. It’s a partnership among Triune, United Ministries, Buncombe Street United Methodist, Valley Brook Missionary Baptist, Westminster Presbyterian and First Baptist Greenville. Triune Mercy Center does recovery as well as anyone in Greenville; and this morning, whether you were aware of it or not, you are contributing to God’s mission of search and recovery. Our mission is not to escape this world; our mission is to search and recover with God in this world. Our mission is not to get ourselves out while the gettin’ is good; our mission is to create a community that will stay here until the last one comes in.

You and I live in an era of the American church that is characterized in some circles by a will for spiritual domination. Millions of American Christians have lifted the chorus, “We are the champions of the world!”—“No time for losers: we are the champions of the world!” right out of the 70s rock anthem and dropped it into their Christian belief system as though it were in the Bible. It’s not. But faced with a world filled with loss and fear, terror and disaster and illness and disease, millions of American Christians have flocked to spiritual domination in attempt to bring order and stability to the world. They believe that by controlling religious and political and social and legal processes they can enforce the kingdom of God in this world, in spite of the fact that Jesus insisted that God’s kingdom is not of this world.

According to the gospel of John, when Jesus was on trial before Pontius Pilate, Jesus asserted no claim over the reins of earthly power, even when Pilate gave him the opportunity to do so. Instead, Jesus said to Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over. . . . But as it is, my kingdom is not from here” (John 18:36). In the lust for spiritual domination by conservative and liberal Christian activists alike, the mission of the church becomes to produce fighters for the cause who will influence or control congregations and denominations, local, state and national governments. But this morning’s gospel lesson suggests that God’s mission is more focused on the wellbeing of single loser than on the production of 99 champions. The mission of the church, insofar as it reflects God’s redemptive mission in the world, has nothing to do with spiritual domination.

The lost-and-found parables in this morning’s gospel lesson model a ministry of personal presence to the lost and for the losers. God’s time is always time for those whom the world calls “losers” but whom God calls God’s children, the sheep of God’s pasture, the precious coins of God’s treasure. One Sunday a month, members of this congregation from various Sunday School classes and extended families elect to spend their morning at Project Host, “the soup kitchen,” instead of here in this place. It is no less worship there preparing and serving a meal to homeless persons than it is worship here in the comfort and beauty of this room, in the comfort and well coiffed company of this congregation. It’s personal presence with those who have wandered for whatever reason outside the safety of the flock, personal presence with those who have rolled by their volition or not outside the security of the purse.

Last month, we had a fascinating conversation in a pastoral team workday in which we spent some time talking about the term “outreach,” among other things. In the course of our conversation we discovered that while many churches think of “outreach” as being what they do to get others to come to them, we think of “outreach” as going where others are in need, whether they ever come here or not.

In his recent book Missional Renaissance: Changing the Scorecard for the Church, Reggie McNeal suggests that the American church has had it the wrong way round for a long time because it counts how many people are in attendance on Sunday morning as a measure of a church’s strength and mission instead of counting how many people “are released to mission” on Sunday and every day. The first parable in this morning’s gospel lesson implies that we not celebrate over the 99 who are present and accounted for, but we should celebrate over the result of going where someone is in need. The second parable implies that we not celebrate the pile of coins safely in the purse or the money box, but we should celebrate the outcome of the search and recovery of the one that was missing.

God is like the shepherd who when a single sheep has been found, calls for a celebration by neighbors and friends. God is like the woman who when a single coin is reclaimed invites her friends and neighbors to share in her joy. God has no need to be “champion of the world.” It is enough for God to “so love the world” sacrificially and redemptively and joyfully. And if that’s enough for God, then that’s enough for the church.

The Mission Statement of First Baptist Greenville ends with the sentence, “We express our love for all in gratitude for the love God has shown to us.” Neither escapism nor domination are expressions of love or gratitude either one. So the next time you are tempted to be beamed up or to join in a chorus of “We are the champions,” grab hold of a tree and hang on tight until the temptation passes. Because the mission of the church is to stay here with Jesus seeking and finding and recovering and celebrating until the last one comes in.

Can I stay with you? I want to be there for the last one.

This material is Copyrighted © 2010 by Jeffrey S. Rogers. It may be copied or disseminated for non-commercial use, provided this notice is included. The author can be contacted at jeffrogers110@bellsouth.net.