SermonStudio

Have you ever been hard at work on something? Perhaps you're like the pastor who sits laboring over a sermon or drafting a statement for this or that, or reading the latest biblical articles. Whatever it is, you are concentrating, focused, and suddenly you're aware that someone, somewhere is watching you. One day I was reading through a sheaf of mail in my office when suddenly I could just tell without even looking up that someone was peering though the curtained door to see what I was doing.

I don't know what made me aware of their presence. Usually it's not movement I see. It's something else. This person, mind you, wasn't trying to be nosy. She was simply trying to see if I was too busy to chat for a moment. But somehow I became aware that someone was there. Has that ever happened to you? It's as though some sort of sixth sense kicks in and you can feel the presence of someone close by.

One morning I was dozing peacefully in those moments before the alarm goes off ... and suddenly I had that same feeling ... like someone was there. Close by. I tried to convince myself that it was the hazy vestige of some dream I couldn't quite recall. But still that feeling was there. Of course this whole time my eyes were closed and I was more or less feigning sleep.

To myself I said, "Oh well, I might as well open my eyes to see who's out there." I opened my eyes, and there not two inches from my face were the blue, intent eyes of my three--year--old son. He blinked, and said, "Daddy sleeping?"

After peeling myself from the ceiling, it came to me that there was that feeling again. Even with eyes closed, it was clear that someone, somehow, was there. It is hard to describe as anything but a sense of presence. And for the life of me I cannot figure out what makes it work or not work.

Maybe this happens to you? I bring this up because today's Gospel passage has Jesus telling us that he will always be with us. We must acknowledge, I suppose, that we speak about people being with us like this quite a lot. My mother, before she died, said that she'd be with me. And sometimes, in a way much like that sense of presence, I do feel that she is still here. And I wonder if this sense of presence is the way that Jesus intended to be here.

Let's think about this. Here Jesus issues this "Great Commission" to us all. He says that "all authority" has been given to him. He instructs his followers to go and create disciples of all people, baptizing them in the name of God, the Word, and the Holy Spirit. And then he proceeds to instruct his followers - for our purposes, that's you and me - to teach these new disciples to obey the commandments that Jesus gave us.

It's funny here, one almost wonders if subconsciously Jesus knew how difficult a task he was laying on us, because almost like an afterthought he says, "And don't worry because I'll be with you always ... even to the end of the age."

It reminds me of my dad when he was teaching me to ride a two--wheel bike. I loved those training wheels. They were great. I could ride the big kids' bike and I never had to worry about falling down. Then one day I came out to get on my bike and my father had removed those training wheels. I panicked. Back into the house I went, whining and crying that I couldn't possibly ride the bike now. And my dad came outside and held the bike while I got on and said he'd hold onto it while I rode. "Cool," I thought, "as long as someone's holding on so I won't fall." Of course, two seconds later I looked back and he was at the other end of the driveway. I'd been riding on two wheels without him holding on and I didn't even know it. I am with you always, huh?

Now some might call this a hoax. Some might even look at this as a metaphor for a God who lets us think he or she is in control and then walks coolly off into the cosmos.

But I don't think so.

My dad wasn't holding on to the fender of my bike, but he was there. Not only was he there to pick me up if I fell, he was really and truly there. I could feel it. It was that presence thing. Even though he was a couple of hundred feet away, watching (I imagine) with some satisfaction, I knew he was there.

Jesus calls his followers to go out and create disciples. Hear that word, "create," because the translation of the scripture here is faulty. We are not to make disciples. We are not to coerce or judge, manipulate or threaten. We are to create them. As partners with God, we are to create disciples in much the same way that God created the world. And how did God do that? Out of love. We are to create new disciples with love. We are to grow them, to nourish and lift them up gently, fully, wholly. The days of whacking people over the head with a Bible as though you have some superior start in life are over. Nonetheless, though, the call is real and true. We are to go out there and create disciples.

And it has, at some point, to be asked: "How do you feel about your responsibility as an evangelist?" How do you feel about this part of being Christian? About the inescapable reality that as Christians, we are called to go out and preach the gospel to those who haven't heard it? How do you feel about your commitment to invite people, not just to come to church on Sunday, but to invite them into your life, into your community, into the transforming and healing love of God in Jesus Christ?

This could be off base, but it seems to me that people are uncomfortable about it. I would also guess that some people are uncomfortable even naming themselves publicly as a Christian, let alone inviting others to join us. Let me be honest. I've felt that. There have been times when I've seen an opportunity to offer Christ, to offer the life of this wonderful community to someone who could really use it ... and I didn't. Why? Oh, probably because I don't want to be associated with those television guys who cry alligator tears in front of the camera while stealing money from widows and orphans. I don't want to be identified with those religious men and women who prostitute themselves praying with presidents while giving their blessings to wars and horror. I don't want to be connected with a faith which is little more than a photo op.

Another reason is that I'm a good polite white liberal and I don't want to push my point of view too hard lest someone think I'm too aggressive.

What are your reasons? Why do you go through a whole week without asking someone to come to church? Why do you go through a whole week without telling someone about the love you've experienced through God's work in your church? Why do you go through a whole week without sharing the acceptance that you have gained in the love of Christ?

This is not an easy thing. Think about it. First of all, people don't like to be evangelized. They stoned Stephen, and they beat Paul and the others within an inch of their lives, then threw them into prison, not once but several times! This offering of love to the world is a risky business. People are so used to the pain and craziness of the world that they think it's normal, and anyone who suggests that it might be different, that there might be an alternative, is considered just a little crazy.

In fact, I know someone to whom I gave a gift subscription to a certain magazine. On the cover, it says something like, "A Magazine of Alternative Journalism." Now, this friend took one look at the word "alternative" and has refused steadfastly even to read the magazine, which comes to his house each month. He wants nothing to do with any alternative to the way things are.

Suffice it to say that there are lots of reasons why we might be a little shy about going out there. And we've only touched on a few.

But this is where this Jesus thing comes in. This is why Jesus said, "Don't worry, I'll be with you." Even until the end of the age. Even to the end of the age. Does that mean now? Absolutely. Jesus is with us. Now. Here. Wherever you are, Jesus is present. Real. You might become aware of it in the same way I sensed my son staring at me in my sleep. You may experience it like some unseen hand guiding you from down the driveway. Or you may encounter the presence of the living Christ in a totally different and unique way, which belongs to you only.

Or, you may have yet really to have that sense of presence.

Wherever you are in this spectrum of experience, I'm here to tell you it's real. I'm here to say that as we examine the challenge to share the love we have in God, we need to know that that love accompanies us as we go. Wherever you are, whomever you're talking to, whatever challenges or sorrows are visited upon your life, the power of the love of God in Jesus Christ is with you. This love isn't like some familiar and disingenuous peck on the cheek. This love isn't like the taste of a good pastry that is gone before the coffee gets cold.

This love stays.

It's presence walks with you, sits with you, holds you close, and bids you share it. And the operative word here is "share." Our call to evangelism is not a call to arrogance. It is a summons to humility and gentleness. We are called to move forward, offering Christ, not in bluster with trappings of worldly power, but in true surrender to the ways of love.

This is necessary for our own integrity. It is also necessary because of the people we will meet. The un--churched, the un--faithed, the atheists who march about announcing that they don't believe in God, these are the folks with whom we will be speaking. And the underlying truth, in my experience, is that most of the alleged atheists I meet are not atheists at all. In fact, most of them haven't really given a lot of consideration to notions about or experiences of God. What they don't believe in is the Church! What they reject is the heavy--handed, irrelevant rantings of our institution. And I say BRAVO! It's not the church we're called to believe in! We're called to believe - to trust - in God's love as it has been brought to us in Jesus Christ. Yet many of us who try to meet the challenge of inviting others into the love of God shy away not because of this, but because of what the Church has done.

Once and for all, let's today say loud and clearly that the Church is a broken and sinful structure. We are called to be very mistrustful of sinful structures. Let's move forward, past what the Church has done about evangelism and claim anew the Great Commission. Let's reject the old ways of manipulation and coercion, the evangelism of guilt, shame, and threats. And let's cast upon the waters new bread, new hope, new offers of gentleness and love.

Let's offer the Christ we know in open, loving Christian community. The one who accepts us all as we are, and calls us into community and solidarity, who challenges us to embrace ministries of justice and compassion, who holds us close and walks with us every inch of the way, even unto the cross, if that is our path.

So I challenge you. I invite you. I encourage you. I double dare you: "Go, and create disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Creator, the Word, and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them about the love of God in Jesus Christ." And don't worry, because Jesus will be with you always as you do this ... even unto the end of the age. Amen.