When the Presbytery approached me about preaching today, they asked me to preach a sermon related to a “theology of mission.” I imagine they asked me because I am the pastor of Mercy Community Church, a small worshiping community that welcomes mostly people who live on the street. We are, in that sense, a missional church, so they figured I might know some things about mission.

Now my sense is that people mean different things when we talk about mission. Some of us think of mission along the lines of the Great Commission, proclaiming the good news of the Gospel to every tribe and people and nation. Others of us may think of mission as serving the least of these, feeding meals to the hungry, providing disaster kits for hurricane victims, or installing solar panel in Honduras. What these ideas have in common is that they concern the way the church relates to people we perceive as being outside the church. In one way or another, we conceive of mission as the connecting the church with some “them” who needs what we have to offer.

From the Outside In

The thing is that, in the Bible, as soon as we start distinguishing between “us” from “them”—those who are insiders to the Gospel and those who are outsiders—we quickly realize that God doesn’t recognize our distinctions. Those we designate as being in need of our mission inevitably turn out to be the very ones God uses to teach us something about the Gospel.

Consider Ruth. Ruth. A Moabite, one of the peoples most despised in ancient Israel. The book of Deuteronomy says that no Moabite may ever be admitted to the people of Israel. And yet Ruth, this despised Moabite became a model of the love and fidelity that is possible between two people. Indeed, the book of Ruth tells us that Ruth’s commitment to Naomi led to Israel’s greatest King, David, who would be Ruth’s great-grandson. This Moabite woman who was supposed to be prohibited from the community became central to the story of Israel itself.

Pigs, Shellfish, and Weird-Looking Birds

Or consider Cornelius, a Roman centurion from Italy. If you want to talk about Gentiles, you can’t get much more Gentile than Cornelius—a Roman’s Roman to the core. As a Gentile, Cornelius was not allowed to join the church, as the church believed God didn’t welcome Gentiles.

Yet even as the story opens, Cornelius the Gentle is having a vision of an angel who commends him for his faith. God, it turns out, will not be confined by the church’s theology.

Miles away, Peter is also having a vision of his own. He sees a giant sheet descending from heaven, full of all kinds of un-kosher food—pigs, and shellfish, and reptiles, and weird-looking birds. A heavenly voice commands, “Get up Peter, kill and eat”.

Now Peter is a good Christian. And like any good Christian Peter has read Leviticus 1 (as should you), which clearly prohibits the faithful from eating pigs and shellfish and reptiles and weird-looking birds. Following his Bible to the letter, Peter declares that god must be wrong. “By no means, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is profane or unclean.” Imagine being so attached to your church traditions that you would quote the Bible to challenge God!

Yet the voice responds, “What God has made clean, you must not call unclean” (10:16). This happens three times.

Just at the end of the vision, Cornelius’s men arrive from Caesarea. The Holy Spirit, who has clearly orchestrated the entire encounter, instructs Peter to go with them to Caesarea, where he meets Cornelius and his family. Peter immediately understands the connection between his vision and God’s instruction to visit this Gentile, He says,

You yourselves know that it is unlawful for a Jew to associate with or to visit a Gentile, but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean. (10:28)

Peter baptizes Cornelius and his family into the family of God—in violation of church polity and to the great chagrin of the church council back in Jerusalem.

Getting Ourselves in Holy Trouble

Now, if we imagine for a moment that Peter’s encounter with Cornelius could be a model for Christian mission—and really what else could it be?—this story has implications both profound and a bit troubling.

First of all, this story teaches us that mission isn’t really the church’s mission at all. Mission is fundamentally God’s mission. The Holy Spirit is driving the action. We in the church are simply trying to catch up to what God is already doing in the world.

What is even more remarkable to me about this passage is that following God’s mission means that Peter must revise his understanding of his own faith. He must let go of beliefs and traditions he had long held dear. He even had to adjust his interpretation of Scripture. Peter’s tradition had taught him that his faith to be off-limits to Gentiles. And yet there was God telling Peter to welcome as clean someone his tradition considered unclean.

In fact, Peter’s encounter with this Gentile Cornelius so radically transforms Peter’s faith that he soon finds himself in trouble with the church authorities back in Jerusalem, who reprimand Peter for violating church law. For Peter, participating in God’s mission means letting go of some of the traditions he has long held dear. It means adapting his theology to changing circumstances. It means a willingness to be reprimanded and criticized by the church authorities for doing thing the wrong way.

So if we take Peter as a model for the church’s mission, I think we must conclude that it is not the role church to be the mediator of the Holy Spirit to the world. The Holy Spirit is quite capable of moving in the world without us, thank you very much. Rather, the church’s mission is to figure out what the Holy Spirit is already doing in the world and to find ways to participate in the work of the Spirit.

Finding the Spirit at Work

When Peter meets Cornelius, he recognizes the Holy Spirit at work in Cornelius and among the Gentile believers. So we, too, should be on the lookout for people and communities where the Holy Spirit is already recognizably at work. While it may not immediately be clear how to go about such a thing, to recognize the Spirit I think we can look to Paul’s letter to the Galatians, where he describes the fruits of the Spirit as “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal 5:23).

Where we see these things, we know the Holy Spirit is at work. Where we see love and joy, peace and patience, the Spirit is present. Where we witness kindness and generosity, faithfulness and gentleness and self-control, the Holy Spirit is at work. Wherever we see the fruits of the Spirit, our mission is to lend our support, to offer our resources, to partner with and encourage those among whom the Spirit is already hard at work.

Now my friends at Mercy Community Church are people who are often looked at by the mainstream of society as being somehow outside of or beyond the scope of God’s grace. They are homeless and addicts and ex-convicts. They are unemployed and disabled and mentally ill. They are the kind of people who are often viewed as objects of other people’s charity rather than as children of God in their own right, full of holy dignity and worth.

But if you ever come to Mercy, what you will discover there is a community full of love and joy, a gathering of kind and gentle people, a church family of deep generosity and profound faithfulness.

If you came to Mercy you would meet Donny and Fred, a couple who have been living on the streets for nearly a decade. One time Donny and Fred accompanied a group of 15 Hendrix students as they learned about homelessness in Little Rock. The group went to a parking lot where a church was supposed to serve dinner. But the church never showed up, and everyone was sent away hungry. While we were still figuring out what to do next, Donny and Fred offered what remained of their monthly funds to buy pizza for our group. Two homeless men sharing their scarce resources with a bunch of privileged college students because that’s what Christians do. The fruit of the spirit is generosity.

If you came to Mercy you would meet Kindra and Chuck, two of our friends who have found a family at Mercy. They arrive an hour before Mercy starts to set up for the service—to make coffee and arrange chairs, and to greet people as they arrive. And after the service, they stay around to clean up after everyone else has left. Two more dedicated servants you will not find. The fruit of the spirit is kindness.

If you came to Mercy you would meet Courtney, a young trans-woman who is part of our community. It’s not easy being transgender in the world these days—let alone when you are struggling to survive on the streets of Little Rock. But Courtney’s smile will light up the room as she tells you about how she has experienced God in her life. The fruit of the spirit is joy.

Most of all, if you came to Mercy you would get to know Bernadette, my copastor, who read Scripture for us earlier. When I met Bernadette in 2015 she had only been off the streets for a year after several years of being homeless herself. Bernadette came to Mercy to worship with us, but she soon became the life-blood of the community. As it turns out, the Holy Spirit had been working in her heart for a long time, calling her to ministry with people living on the streets. In fact, Bernadette was already ministering to people, serving those in need and sharing a Gospel of hope and love and dignity. Mercy gave her a place to pastor, but the Spirit had made her a pastor long ago. The fruit of the spirit is faithfulness.

Our Mission is Not Our Own

When I first founded Mercy, I thought my mission was to share the Gospel with those living on the streets. As it turns out, the Gospel was already very much alive on the streets. My mission—though I didn’t understand it at the time—was to create a space where Bernadette’s ministry could flourish. Where Courtney’s joy could spread to others. Where Kindra and Chuck’s servant hearts could uplift others in their community. Where Fred and Donny’s generosity could transform the lives of a generation of Hendrix students.

My mission wasn’t about me at all, except in so much as it taught me—as it had taught Peter long ago—that God’s community is broader than I had ever imagined, and that the Holy Spirit was already 10 steps ahead of me.

That, I think, is the nature of the church’s mission, too. Our task is to catch up to what the Holy Spirit is already doing in the world. To use our resources to empower human flourishing wherever we find it. And to remain open to the possibility that God is even more amazing than we had ever known.

May it be so. Amen.