A Church To Die For CH 1-4

Hope for Bleak Times
A CHURCH
O
DIE FOR
STU RITTER
© 2009 W. Stuart Ritter
Historical Imperative
Introduction: Faith… Religion… Church
1. Beyond the Mission Field
Apostolic Trajectory
2. Gathering
3. Equipping
4. Sending
Real World: Third Millennium

5. Church: Dying, Dead or Risen?
6. Goals, Objectives, Vision
7. Mission: The Right Vision
8. Discovering Strengths
9. Leadership Development
10. Focus on Equipping
What’s Next?
11. Leading Change
12. The Presence of Christ
A Church to Die For
Part One
Historical
Imperative
A Church to Die For
Introduction 3
Introduction
Faith… Religion… Church

Americans like to call ourselves people of faith, but our ef-
forts to articulate what that means often fall short, and our
vocabulary defaults to religious “brand names.” We who call
ourselves Christians struggle to explain how our lives differ
from those of our Jewish or Muslim neighbors… or the Hindus
(at least we think they’re Hindus) who run our favorite tandoori
restaurant. We “go to” St. Paul’s United Methodist Church, or
First Baptist or Westminster Presbyterian, but we tend to come
away the same as we were when we “went.”
We talk about “life-changing” faith, but where is the evidence?
How are we changed?
The premise of this book is very simple: Faith in our Lord Jesus
Christ can and does change lives; but the church, which exists
to facilitate this life-changing force, often gets in the way. We
have within our reach all the energy and resources needed
to change millions of lives, but we spend those resources on
4 A Church to Die For
maintaining institutions — churches — rather than empower-

ing people and ministries to heal and revitalize the world. If
there is truth — even the tiniest grain of truth — in this as-
sertion, think of the spiritual power that could be unleashed
by tweaking the equation! If churches were truly focused on
equipping us for the life-changing, world-changing work of
Christian ministry, we wouldn’t be talking about “where we
go” on Sunday mornings; we’d be celebrating the kingdom of
heaven in our midst!
Does this sound like hyperbole gone wild? Is it simply another
fantasy of unattainable goals and unrealistic expectations?
Perhaps. But consider the possibility of discovering genuine
potential — a glimpse of what your church could become,
along with a few practical, common-sense ideas about how to
get there. That’s what we hope to accomplish. No assurance of
greatness; no one-size-fits-all recipe for the perfect church. We
know of no such thing.
As a pastor and student of religious practice, I believe there
are many ways to participate in the body of Christ. My idea
of the “ideal church” may not be the congregation where your
God-given talents and spiritual energy are best nurtured and
released. But just as we share a common faith, the communi-
ties that sustain us share gifts imparted by the Spirit of the liv-
ing Christ. The thoughts assembled in this book are intended
to help identify and cultivate these gifts. While some ideas —
perhaps a whole chapter or two — may not seem relevant to
your particular context, I pray that you will find inspiration in
the passages that strike closer to home.
Whether any of this is worthwhile depends less on what is
written here than on what happens in your heart and mind
during the next few hours of reading, and in your faith com-
munity during the next few years of living.
Introduction 5
What you are about to read may not be entirely new. You have
probably heard or read similar ideas in other contexts; but the
very fact that you’ve opened this book suggests a need for
something more. Life is full of near-hits and near-misses —
things we may be excited about hearing or reading, but they
just don’t connect with our reality in the present moment. As a
pastor, it’s been years since I experienced Christmas or Easter
without the stress (and joy) of planning worship services and
delivering sermons. So when the opportunity arose, I thought
it would be fun to attend an old-fashioned Christmas Eve ser-
vice with my wife, actually sitting together in a pew as “real
people” do. We chose a lovely church in a neighboring com-
munity where we could worship anonymously.
Cello, harp and angelic voices prepared our hearts to receive
the news of Jesus’s birth. “This is what Christmas is supposed
to feel like,” I sighed as the Scripture was read. But my delight
was short lived. About seven minutes into the sermon, I real-
ized that we had become prisoners on a slow train to some
less-than-heavenly destination. As the preacher gathered up
the loose ends of his opening story and lumbered toward God
knows what belabored point he was determined to make, I
started plotting my escape… but every exit scenario featured
an elderly matron whispering (loudly), “Look — isn’t that the
pastor from…?” After what felt like three hours (although I
can’t explain how only 20 minutes had been measured by my
watch) as the sermon mercifully concluded, my wife said soft-
ly, “I’m so glad we came here. That was exactly the message I
needed to hear tonight.” When an actual tear welled up in her
eye, I knew she wasn’t pulling my leg. The sermon that missed
me by 100 yards was right on target for her.
There is no perfect church; but there may be one that’s a per-
fect fit for you. And you can make it better.
Beyond the Mission Field 7
one
Beyond the Mission Field

It could be argued that the church should never change. We
are the Church of Jesus Christ, who is the same yesterday, to-
day and tomorrow. Therefore our mission is to stay the course
— remaining true to the Gospel regardless of cultural trends,
scientific advancement or societal/moral/evolutionary chang-
es. Or… maybe not. If staying the course means clinging to the
truths that have guided the church through the centuries, we
have a problem: History reveals a great variety of interpreta-
tions and selective applications of truth, even (or perhaps espe-
cially) among church leaders and the civil authorities they’ve
influenced. We needn’t iterate the violent atrocities of wars,
crusades and inquisitions carried out in the name of Christ. So
much for staying the course.
In our own lifetimes, most of us have observed radical chang-
es in Christianity and its role in the world. The church has
scarcely come to terms with the rhythms of the 20th century,
let alone the cacophony of new voices in the mix today. In the
U.S., terms like evangelical, conservative, liberal and progressive
have become so laden with political overtones as to render
them virtually useless in theological discourse. Echoes of the
Social Gospel, the hallmark of liberal Protestantism in the
1920s, ’30s and ’40s, are now heard in the intonations of Rick
Warren and his generation of “post-denominational” evangeli-
cals. Among the fruits of this movable feast we encounter the
“emerging” or “emergent” church — which, in its best sense,
represents the constantly-evolving holistic integration of past,
present and future — and increasing numbers of pastors, con-
gregations and parachurch entities identifying themselves as
“missional.”
As the church seeks its place in 21st century America, individu-
al Christians have a plethora of promising options from which
to choose. Yet two facts stand in stark relief against this seem-
ingly bright horizon: Despite their rich history and depth of
commitment, the influence of mainline, “established” church-
es is rapidly fading; and for a growing number of Americans
raised in nominally Christian households, the option of choice
for worship and practice is “none of the above.”
Church leaders know this. We are neither deaf nor blind to
the world around us. We acknowledge that something must
change — but what, and how? Too many efforts to reverse
the church’s decline have only made things worse. As often
as not, we’ve tried to alter who we are instead of celebrating
our identity in Christ. We’ve fallen into the trap of diagnosing
our weaknesses instead of rediscovering our strengths. We’ve
looked outward for prescriptions rather than inward to the
heart and soul of faith. And we’ve failed to acknowledged one
simple truth: While the world may shape our challenges and
teach us new methods and strategies, it is Christ who defines
and empowers who we are.
Like an honest conversation with God (a.k.a. prayer), our dis-

cussion of the church begins with confession — not only of
our own failed leadership, but of the church’s persistent drift-
ing off course, wandering from its apostolic trajectory. We’ll
attempt to flesh out the term apostolic trajectory a little later in
this chapter; but for the moment let’s say that Jesus charted the
way for his followers, and the church has perennially strayed
from that path.
The first generation of apostles surely had their shortcomings,
but the real troubles began with Constantine. Elevating Chris-
tianity to favored status, the emperor freed Christians from
oppression and persecution; but his magnanimity also allowed
the church to become an established institution, opening the
flood-gates for dynamics that had become commonplace in
Roman society — dominance, greed, jealousy, back-stabbing,
intrigue — to infiltrate the community of believers. It didn’t
take long for the primacy of faith to give way to a hierarchy of
human power and a church bearing more resemblance to the
Roman empire than to the kingdom of God proclaimed by our
Lord.
Despite a long history of reforms staged with varying degrees
of success, we still live with the legacy of the Constantinian era
— a church that is understood (and in large measure under-
stands itself) as an institution rather than a movement.
Fifty years ago, Americans may not have recognized the dif-
ference. Being raised in a church was the norm in towns and
suburbs across the nation. In many communities, public school
teachers abided by the “no homework rule” on Wednesdays
when families were expected to gather at church for dinner,
fellowship and religious study. Most Americans were Chris-
tians. Most Christians attended a church. Their day-to-day
lives, especially in small towns, were governed by the church’s
calendar and revolved around church-related activities and

events. Baptism, communion, confirmation, marriage and fu-
nerals marked life’s passages. Faith was assumed, whether or
not it was thought about or discussed.
That was the perception, if not always the reality, of the church
in post-World War II America — the world of my childhood,
the world of Norman Rockwell, Arthur Godfrey, Art Linklet-
ter and Norman Vincent Peale. But we don’t live in that world
anymore.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the
second half of the 20th century, and nearly 1700 years after
Constantine, Christendom — the age of privileged and pro-
tected Christianity — attained its zenith in American society,
then quickly and quietly died. The church tried not to notice,
maintaining business as usual. But prophetic Christian voices
were now speaking to our culture rather than for it, and we no
longer sneered at phrases like “church in exile” or even “the
post-Christian world.”
With all due respect to Nietzsche and Time magazine’s famous
April 8, 1966 cover story, we have never taken seriously the
claim that God is dead. But the church is another matter, and
it may be wise to check its pulse more frequently these days.
In later chapters we’ll consider how to accomplish this; but first
we should try to understand the events that brought us to our
current condition.
What Took So Long?

1700 years is a long time. If the church went off the rails with
the advent of Christendom in the fourth century, is it possi-
ble that no one stumbled over the wreckage until our time? If
we’ve come to a critical juncture when the church (as we often
hear) must change or die, why is this happening now and not,
say, 1600 years ago? Or if you’d rather see the glass as half-full,
you might ask why an institution that survived for 1700 years
is showing serious signs of crumbling today. Either way, the
answer requires a broader discussion than we are prepared to
undertake here; but a few salient points may help sharpen our
perspective.
First, the church’s variance from its intended trajectory wasn’t
quite as sudden as Constantine’s conversion. Christianity
was not instantaneously institutionalized. No one in Europe
or Asia Minor woke up one morning to find the countryside
punctuated by grand cathedrals. No declarations of divine
doctrine were presented to priests on tablets of stone. Papal au-
thority and its rules of succession were not handed down from
on high. Establishment of the church took place in a manner
and at a pace consistent with the state of the world — a world
of limited literacy, a faltering empire, and population centers
linked together by what our culture can only regard as primi-
tive transportation and communications. In such a context,
the establishment and survival of the Western church, regard-
less of its faults, reflect a power far greater than the blessing of
Constantine.
From where we sit, knowing with certainty that a momen-
tary event — the bombing of Pearl Harbor or the tragedy of
September 11, 2001 — can immediately and irreversibly alter
the course of history, we may not be impressed by the rate of
change in the fourth and fifth centuries. But viewed through a
broader lens, the 167-year period (more or less) between Con-
stantine’s proclamation of religious tolerance and the fall of
the Roman Empire was a remarkably brief window to estab-
lish an institution so strong as to outlive nearly every human
enterprise on the face of the earth.
After the fall came the “Dark Ages,” which conventional wis-
dom regards as a cultural wasteland, spanning 1,000 years
but yielding only a few decades’ worth of progress. Indeed,
the empire’s collapse precipitated the demise of rudimentary
networks required for regional or continental integrity; yet we
should not ignore the fact that local communities were forced
to renew their self-reliance. For the church, this climate fos-
tered a model of Christian life that we know as monasticism.
At first blush, the seclusion and severity associated with mo-
nastic life may seem antithetical to the privileged, prestigious
church of Christendom. Yet, if you’ve discovered the spiritu-
al depths that can be tapped in a rustic retreat or a sparsely
appointed sanctuary, you may appreciate the immeasurable
richness accessible to those who seek greater faith in a simpler
life. Monastic communities were not perfect, some less so than
others; but when much of the known world was overtaken by
barbarism, enclaves of faithful Christians continued to explore
the meaning of salvation. The amazing grace-note beween the
lines of medieval history is that, by and large, monastic culture
contributed more to the faith than to the church. Living in a
parallel reality alongside the politically burdened and socially
dysfunctional urban church, monastics helped assure that if
the church survived, it would have a reason to exist.
As Europe awoke to its Renaissance, religious thought and
scholarship emerged from monastic seclusion. Universities,
government chambers and (to a lesser extent) churches became
forums for lively exchange of ideas, both secular and theo-
logical. With the printing press, widespread litreracy was no
longer a dream; matters of faith were readily pursued beyond
cloistered walls; and for a church long distracted by internal
and external politics, new realities brought new tensions. In-
stitutional power came face to face with the power of faith and
the inevitability of reform.
Reshaped by the Protestant movement and reactionary over-

haul within the Church of Rome, an increasingly diverse
Christian presence survived the next several centuries. As feu-
dalism gave way to developing nation-states, a new world was
discovered and Enlightenment thinkers toyed with age-old
assumptions about the nature of life and the universe… and
theologians were right there in the mix. Emerging sciences
— physics, astronomy, chemistry, biology — stood beside phi-
losophy, mathematics and theology as tools for understanding
the human condition.
For the church, however, the climate that fostered intellectual
exploration and lively debate also contributed to less fortu-
nate developments: institutional entrenchment and increasing
polarization. In post-Reformation Europe, and later in North
America, Christian denominations sought to distinguish
themselves by adopting doctrinal formulas and ecclesiastical
rules. While codification of beliefs is a valid (perhaps essential)
exercise, it can easily lead to a risky hierarchy of righteousness.
If you embrace the strictures of your church and regard them
as the “right” understanding of Christianity, you may begin to
see those of other denominations as errant, unfounded or less
righteous. Moreover, if your personal interpretations adhere
more closely to our church’s dogma than mine, colleagues may
begin to treat you as a more exemplary Presbyterian, a more
faithful Christian, or a better human being… and I may soon
feel less welcome in the church. Walls of ideology, like walls of
stone, are built both to retain and to repel.
Yet in the early 20th century, despite its tumultuous and di-
versionary journey, the church was still a force to be reckoned
with in Western society. But how much longer could this splin-
tered, conflicted institution retain its influence? Some say this
question remains unanswered today, while others claim to
have heard the church’s death knell long ago. Either way, the
halls of denominational offices see fewer smiles and hear less

laughter than they did 50 years ago. Something happened in
the last half-century, and it wasn’t good news for the church.
So Many Changes, So Little Time

In the 1950s, a generation steeled by the great depression and
freshly emboldened by the victory of World War II was busy
acquiring wealth, developing new housing tracts and building
new churches with great zeal. As their once-stable base moved
out, housands of urban congregations were drained of mem-
bers and resources, but this seemed a small price to pay for
the soaring vitality of churches in rapidly expanding suburbs.
“Where the people go, so goes the church” was the prevailing
mindset of religious leaders; and for a time, this strategy was
successful.
Suburban sprawl, however, wasn’t the only significant trend
in American life. President Dwight D. Eisenhower is remem-
bered as a war hero and a competent but unremarkable peace-
time leader. Yet one act of his administration may have done as
much to change the American landscape — both literally and
figuratively — as any presidential imperative before or since.
Championed by Eisenhower and established by Congress at
his urging, the Interstate Highway System changed the way
Americans relate to the world beyond their hometowns. By the
late 1960s, nearly every metropolitan area across the county had
direct “freeway” access to every other. Not only could families
travel longer distances, enabling friends and relatives to visit
one another more frequently, but goods and services could be
provided more economically and uniformly to communities
in every state. To understand how these changes have affected
our lives, we need only two words: McDonald’s and Walmart.
Significant as it was, the influence of high-speed transporta-

tion is dwarfed by another 1950s phenomenon: the television.
The technology for transmitting pictures was invented 30
years earlier, but it was the early ’50s when commercial televi-
sion broadcasting reached a significant portion of the Ameri-
can populace. By the end of the decade, black-and-white TVs
were a standard fixture in our homes, and within a few years
the three established networks were all broadcasting in color.
Whether you lived in Los Angeles, Bangor or Tuscaloosa, you
had newly-acquired friends (Lucille Ball, Desi Arnaz and Di-
nah Shore among them) urging you all to try the same ciga-
rettes, buy the same automobiles, and replace your outdated
refrigerator with a brand new Frigidaire. With continuing ad-
vances in transportation and communications, the homogeni-
zation of the U.S.A. was thoroughly underway.
A Generation Lost
The nation may not have been ready for all the changes initi-
ated in the 1950s. Those who built and occupied the homes
and churches of post-war America wanted nothing more
than to live in comfort and enjoy the fruits of their labors.
They were anything but anxious to address the plight of the
rural poor, or of those who had filled the vacuum left by urban
flight. They dreamed of peace and prosperity for themselves,
their families, and their neighbors, and were often willing to
look the other way when life didn’t conform to their ideals. But
they were raising a generation whose dreams were shaped by
many new influences, some of which were at odds with their
parents’ aspirations.
For the first time, children could see the whole world (through
the lens of television) before they were old enough to leave
their back yards. And by their teenage years, these children
were forming attitudes and opinions that defied their parents’
understanding. For many, threatened by the military draft and

perplexed by what they viewed as an aimless war in southeast
Asia, “dropping out” seemed more attractive than “buying in”
or “selling out” to the world their parents had worked so hard
to build. They’d been raised in loving homes and thriving sub-
urban churches, but when their lives were in crisis, few sought
comfort there.
By the 1970s, a growing segment of the population felt estranged
from the prosperous, vital churches of postwar America. But
church leaders didn’t know it… or didn’t want to know.
Here We Are… Ready or Not

Compared to any prior era, and certainly in contrast to the lum-
bering progress of the church since the time of Constantine,
the changes in mid-20th-century American life seem stagger-
ing. Yet in relation to what followed, those changes were but
mustard seeds.
If Interstate highways and color TVs were emblematic of the
’50s and ’60s, succeeding decades have brought us to the age of
YouTube, Google and a global economy. We live in a world that
Thomas Friedman has aptly described as “hot, flat and crowd-
ed.” Hot, because of climate change and the soaring signifi-
cance of equatorial nations; flat, because instantaneous com-
munications and data-sharing technologies have leveled the
playing field so that colleagues on the other side of the globe
are as close as those in the next office; and crowded, because
of urbanization and lower mortality rates in both northern
and southern hemispheres. In such a world, the church is an
anomaly — to some, a reassurance of stability and comforting
traditions; to others, an annoying, crippled dinosaur standing
in the way of humanity’s destiny.
To those who study the relationship between church and soci-

ety, it’s not surprising that the contemporary church is, to put
it charitably, misunderstood. The very word church is simulta-
neously construed to mean building, institution, priesthood,
community, and body of Christ; and these are only some of
the meanings promulgated by our own members. How should
the world relate to a church that can no longer define its own
identity?
Rediscovering the Apostolic Trajectory

No doubt we’ve all heard the query, “What would Jesus do?”
We may have asked that question when approaching a tough
decision or dealing with a particularly sensitive matter; and we
may have found it helpful. But it’s the wrong question. A more
appropriate alternative might be, “What would Jesus want me
to do?” Or even better: “What has Jesus equipped me to do?”
I spent my undergraduate years as an English major — one of
those students who voluntarily signed up for classes called A
Transformational Syntax and Multilingual Etymology — but my
point here is not a matter of semantics. There’s a critical dis-
tinction between looking to the life and ministry of Jesus as a
model for our behavior (“What would Jesus do?”) and under-
standing the unique mission for which he has called and pre-
pared each one of us (“What has Jesus equipped me to do?”).
We can thank the institutional church for preserving and
transmitting the narrative of Jesus’s life, death and resurrec-
tion. Its teaching has surely promoted discipleship; but more
often than not it has failed to transform disciples into full-
fledged apostles. Disciples know what Jesus would do. Apos-
tles, having learned and internalized the teachings of Jesus,
are equipped and empowered by the Holy Spirit to do minis-
try in Jesus’s name. They are his “witnesses in Jerusalem, in all
Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1: 8) —

wherever they are, and wherever they may be called to serve.
Learning… internalizing… equipping… empowering… We’re not
talking about what happens in seminaries. We’re not talk-
ing about a secret handshake known only to ordained clergy.
We’re talking about the mission of every Christian — the mis-
sion of the church — a mission that religious institutions have,
by and large, forgotten or ignored.
This forgotten mission is the apostolic trajectory. Its premise is
disarmingly simple, but its implications are profound.
If a politician uses a phrase like “reaching for the stars,” we
may not know exactly what she means, but she’s given us an
image that inspires hope, ambition and promise. We’re anxious
to know the substance behind the metaphor. But what emo-
tions or desires are ignited by the words “being confirmed”
or “joining the church”? Becoming part of an institution and
endorsing its policies and practices are nowhere near as excit-
ing as joining a movement.
At the heart of Christianity is a message of freedom from the
chains of sin, love of God and neighbor, and empowerment by
the Holy Spirit. Nothing could be more exciting than that! It’s a
chance to escape all the boxes the world tries to build around
us; yet it’s often conveyed as an invitation to enter a new box
labeled “church.” There are wonderful opportunities waiting
inside that box — worship, fellowship, study, service… the list
goes on — but freedom, love and empowerment may not be
readily apparent inside the church box. The church isn’t doing
anything wrong. It has simply forgotten to do the right thing.
In the past 50 years we’ve seen a great variety of conveyanc-
es, sometimes bearing human cargo, soaring into space. Pro-
pelled beyond Earth’s atmosphere — even escaping its gravi-
tational field — they’ve given us a whole new understanding

of “reaching for the stars.” At the same time, they’ve taught us
a thing or two about trajectories. Early experiments followed
sub-orbital paths, rising into space and returning to Earth on
an arc resembling a bell-curve. Then came the orbital trajec-
tory, spawning a generation of satellites that circle the Earth
for years — even decades — before falling from the sky. But,
moon landings aside, the boldest adventures have followed a
one-way trajectory toward new frontiers of knowledge and
understanding, with no option to turn back. That’s not a bad
analogy for the path Christ envisioned for his followers; but
ever since the fourth century, the church’s trajectory has been
decisively sub-orbital.
As his ministry began, Jesus reached out to a few ordinary
people, inviting them with the simple words, “Follow me.” By
virtue of his call and their unquestioning response, this small
band of common laborers and garden-variety sinners would
soon become a powerful force in the world. Soon… but not
overnight. Transforming ordinary followers into extraordi-
nary apostles was no simple feat, even for Jesus. In fact they
journeyed together for a couple of years before the lessons
taught by words, example and shared experience began to gel
and these followers became true disciples — students being
re-formed for a higher calling. Only after his death and res-
urrection did the living Christ commission them as apostles
— evangelists, witnesses, missionaries, builders of God’s king-
dom on earth. While Matthew and Luke render their commis-
sioning in different ways (“Go therefore and make disciples…”
– Matthew 28: 19-20, and “You will be my witnesses…” – Acts
1: 8), it is clear that they could no longer be regarded as ordi-
nary people. Equipped with extraordinary power, they were
dispatched with no lesser mandate than to change the world.
No escape clause. No parachute. No glide path toward home.
The apostolic trajectory — the path Jesus modeled for the

church — begins with call (invitation, gathering), rises up
through discipleship (teaching and practicing the way of
Christ, equipping the called), and is thrust into the world with
the mandate of apostleship (sending, commissioning, empow-
ering). Congregations rehearse this pattern every Sunday.
The rhythm of gathering – equipping – sending is reflected in
most Christian worship services; but the empowering thrust
of apostleship has been contorted into something resembling
centripetal force. That is to say, most of the church’s energy
flows inward toward its own sustenance, rather than outward
toward “Jerusalem, all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of
the earth.”
Remember David and Goliath? David felled the giant with a
sling-shot — not the rubber-band variety we played with as
children, but probably more like a leather strap cupped at one
end to hold a stone. David whipped the strap around in circles
until its velocity was sufficient to launch the stone toward Go-
liath with the force of a speeding bullet.
Now think of the stone as a believer or potential believer — an
ordinary person like you or me — and think of the slingshot as
the church. Imagine that David’s agile arm embodies the pow-
er of the Holy Spirit, and you have pictured, metaphorically,
the mission of the church. It begins with gathering — drawing
people in as a slingshot scoops up stones, just as Jesus plucked
disciples from the lakeshore. Then, when the strap begins to
swirl around, you can see those new disciples building energy
and competence as they learn and practice the way of Christ.
Through regular worship, classes, service and engagement in
the life of the church, they discover God’s purpose for their
lives and are equipped for the mission to which they’ve been
called. As the stone is released, they are sent out, freed and
empowered by God’s Holy Spirit to pierce any barrier imped-
ing their mission. Their journey — scooped up, swirled and

released — gathered, equipped and sent — echoes the transfor-
mation of Jesus’s first disciples and describes the apostolic tra-
jectory of the church. But I don’t know a church that actually
works that way. Do you?
There’s Mission, and There’s Mission

In Europe and North America, 19th- and 20th-century Chris-
tians were proud of their missionary zeal. The populations of
Africa, Asia and South America (not to mention indigenous
North Americans) were seen as prime targets for conversion,
not only to the Christian faith but to Western ways of living.
The term mission became synonymous with a growing enter-
prise aimed at converting, civilizing and Westernizing indig-
enous peoples of the “mission fields” around the globe. At
home in the U.S., congregations groomed members of their
own flocks for overseas missionary service, or “adopted” oth-
ers sent by their denomination.
As the world grew smaller and fewer cultures remained un-
touched by the Gospel, the missionary enterprise began to lose
steam. Hands-on relationships between mission personnel
and their home churches were no longer the norm. “Mission”
was now a line-item in the annual church budget, competing
with scores of other programs for the congregation’s interest
and support.
The prevailing understanding of mission in the last two cen-
turies was rooted in a self-aggrandizing view of the church as
God’s sole instrument of salvation in the world. This perspec-
tive, with its implications for saintly elevation of church leaders
and invalidation of other faiths, has invited conflict through-
out the church’s history. From the crusades to indulgences (no
pun intended) precipitating the Reformation, the institutional
church acted as if it could save the world. Yet a careful reading

of Scripture offers little support for this premise. The Epistles
and Acts of the Apostles depict a nascent church giving testi-
mony to the risen Christ, providing evidence of God’s grace,
and demonstrating the presence of the Holy Spirit.
The early church reached out to the world, inviting repentance
and offering the promise of salvation — not by the power of
the church, but by the grace of God in Christ. As a struggling
underground movement became an established religion, how-
ever, the virtue of humility began to erode as priests, bishops
and popes claimed new powers. The truth of Christ’s sav-
ing grace was gradually supplanted by the myth of a saving
church. Yet the spirit of the first-century church was never
fully eclipsed, thanks in part to the study and devotion of me-
dieval monastics; but their influence would be shrouded for
centuries, perhaps never fully appreciated until our time.
Meanwhile, the long digression of the Middle Ages and subse-
quent distractions allowed the church’s institutional identity
to become so firmly established that not even Luther or Calvin
would advocate its abolition. Their reforms hoped to “rebirth”
the Christian movement, but gave us another (albeit vitally re-
configured) set of institutions. Today’s churches — both Ro-
man Catholic and Protestant — are eternally indebted to the
passion and courage of the 16th century reformers; but the
work of reformation did not end in their time. In fact, history
may ascribe equal or greater significance to the reformation
underway today.
Over the centuries, while the church was busy fostering the
delusion that it could save the world, it was ignoring nothing
short of its raison d’être — its true mission. In more recent times,
as long as we could point to a mission field abroad — anywhere
but our own backyard — we could still believe that we were
obeying the Great Commission, if only by writing a check. So

what has changed today?
The second half of the 20th century saw a level of prosper-
ity unparalleled in the modern era. In political and economic
terms, we have to look all the way back to the late second or
early third century — predating the established church — to
find a comparable phenomenon. In virtually every respect, the
period from the early 1950s through the 1990s was unlike any
time in the 1700-year experience of Christendom. Light-speed
advances in communications, transportation, science, medi-
cine and all forms of technology (coupled with unprecedented
prosperity and societal influences symbolized but not exclu-
sively defined by the war in Vietnam) created a unique op-
portunity for the church to rise or fall. And it has been doing
both.
A significant by-product of prosperity is the opportunity to
make choices, and extraordinary prosperity has led to an
abundance of alternatives. In America and around the world,
growing numbers of people have access to more and more se-
lections — what to eat; where to live; where to work; how to
get there; what movies, concerts or sporting events to attend;
what to watch, read or listen to; what schools, studies and ca-
reers to pursue; and yes… what church, synagogue or mosque
to attend, if any. While advances in our “quality of life” have
given us more leisure time, it’s quickly filled with a long list of
virtually obligatory activities. The old “givens” — Christian-
ity, church membership, regular or at least occasional partici-
pation in worship — no longer occupy a central position in our
lives.
The straw that nearly broke the church’s back, though, was nei-
ther the apathy and skepticism of our materially sated society
nor its concomitant pluralism. It was the breakdown of our
20th-century understanding of mission. Pointing to a mission

field “out there,” we could sustain the myth of a church sav-
ing the world… until the reality of a flat, equal-access global
economy became too obvious to ignore.
We should have seen the handwriting on the wall long ago. In ret-
rospect, I’m embarrassed to acknowledge missing a clarion call
in the early 1990s when a Portuguese-speaking missionary was
dispatched to our Southern California presbytery from Brazil.
Like so many others, I failed to comprehend the implications
of this seminal event and simply added it to my lexicon of
cocktail party conversation. Today it’s all too clear: you and I
live in the most daunting mission field Christianity has ever
confronted, but we don’t understand our mission.
We act as if gathering – equipping – sending were not so much a
mandate as a Sunday morning routine. We gather (in shrink-
ing numbers), but Sunday School classes (if they’re even of-
fered for adults) are a poor excuse for equipping; and we’re
sent out with little more than a one-sentence benediction. The
church is simply not preparing us for the mission of our Sun-
day-afternoon-to-Saturday-night lives.
When did we start believing that being kind is all that’s expect-
ed of us? When did we start taking it for granted that “What
would Jesus do?” is the only question a Christian ever needs
to ask? In this age of expanding knowledge and increasingly
complex interactions, is anyone’s life really that simple?
Americans have learned to assume that science and technol-
ogy can answer virtually any question — as long as it begins
with How or What. It’s the Why questions that throw us off
balance. The Why questions leave us crying out for meaning,
understanding and hope. The Why questions challenge us
to renew our faith. And here is the church, planted right in
the middle of this 21st-century mission field — a staunchly
secular, global society hungry for meaning, hungry for truth.

Doctrines and creeds have no currency here; the people need
something more. Convinced that every What and How has al-
ready been deciphered, the world is dying to know why.
There was a time when the ultimate answer, the Gospel of Je-
sus Christ, was startlingly fresh and new — a time when the
church embodied the power of God’s Holy Spirit, the source of
all meaning and truth. Has that time passed away forever, or
can its vitality be rekindled today?
History, as we have seen, does not bode well for the estab-
lished church. Having failed superbly in the last half-century,
the institution of Christendom has been reduced to an empty
shell. Yet even now we hear the stirring of renewed witness
within, and the wailing of prophetic voices from hidden places
of exile. The body of Christ is not dead. An emerging church,
a missional church, a refreshingly non-institutional church is
rising in our midst. The time has come to reclaim the apostolic
trajectory.
Part two
Apostolic
Trajectory
Gathering 29
Two
Gathering
As he walked by the Sea of Galilee,
[Jesus] saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter,
and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea –
for they were fishermen. And he said to them,
“Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”
Immediately they left their nets and followed him.
Matthew 4: 18-20
When the day of Pentecost had come,
[the disciples] were all gathered in one place.
And suddenly from heaven there came a sound
like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled
the entire house where they were sitting…
[and] all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit.
Acts 2: 1-2, 4a
When we were growing up, our parents and teachers warned
us about spur-of-the-moment decisions: Don’t act without think-
ing. Consider the alternatives. Don’t be fooled by a sweet-talking

stranger. Be careful not to do something you may regret for the rest
of your life. They counseled us wisely, and their caution was
almost always in our best interest. But there is an exception to
every rule.
Speak the name Jesus and, no matter where the rest of the sen-
tence is going, you’ve ventured into exceptional territory. Jesus
didn’t live or talk or make decisions the way the rest of us do.
He didn’t always make safe, logical choices; and he certainly
wasn’t driven by ego or a quest for fame or personal gain. He
placed his full trust in God, prayed incessantly, waited for God
to answer, and did whatever his heavenly Father advised. And
people followed.
Before long, Jesus would be hard pressed to escape the multi-
tudes pursuing him wherever he went; but at first he invited
only a few to enter his world and learn his ways. The hand-
picked cadre of twelve — his students, followers, disciples —
were ordinary people who heard an extraordinary call. In an
instant, with no warning or preparation, without the slightest
hesitation, they knew they had to follow him. They stepped
away from families, friends, jobs and homes — away from
themselves — away from the men they expected to be for the
rest of their lives — and committed themselves to something
totally unknown.
Every mental health professional I know would label the disci-
ples’ choices aberrant, irrational or, at the very least, unstable.
My mother would call them nuts. But here we are. More than
2,000 years have passed since Jesus first said, “Follow me,”
and we still teach our children to honor those twelve disciples,
never questioning their sanity or judgment. It’s an enigma, a
blessing, and a curse.
Gathering 31
The enigma is apparent: How can we pass on the Biblical stories

without question, never subjecting them to the standards we
apply to almost everything else? The blessing is clear: We stand
in awe of those early followers whose faith was so strong, so
compelling, that it still inspires millions around the world. The
curse, however, is more troubling and more difficult to articu-
late. We can only comprehend it by acknowledging a very real
disparity between the faith we profess and the beliefs reflected
in our lives. We revere twelve men who allowed their lives to
be turned inside out on the spur of the moment, while we’re
afraid to choose anything more consequential than a TV show
without a rational selection process. We speak the Gospel’s
promise — Life is eternal! — while our actions persist in shout-
ing: Life is short!
Living the Faith

Amidst the growing complexities of life in recent decades, our
identity as people of faith has become increasingly compart-
mentalized. If we’re church-goers, we allow our “religious
selves” to emerge on Sunday mornings and in moments of
grief or exceeding joy, but the rest of the time we rely on clergy
or a few pious individuals to deal with matters of faith on our
behalf. Those wishing to become more actively engaged with
God often face an uphill battle. They don’t know where or how
to begin; and frankly, the church doesn’t offer much help.
There is no mystery about this. It is by no means inexplica-
ble. The reasons may not be satisfactory, but they are legion:
centuries of leaving the Christian life to monks and cloistered
nuns… a hierarchy designed to meet the needs of the church,
rather than the people (let alone God)… a world turned up-
side down by regional and global conflicts… inestimable disil-
lusionment spawned by wars in Vietnam and, more recently,
Iraq… intolerable abuse perpetrated by religious leaders…
advances in science and technology that foster a powerful il-

lusion of human self-sufficiency… The list goes on, as we’ve
already seen in Chapter 1.
In spite of (and partly because of) the forces that stress and dis-
tort our lives, growing numbers of Americans are seeking to
understand the power of faith and searching for ways to ex-
perience God’s presence in their day-to-day lives. Bookstores
are allocating more shelf-space for spiritually oriented titles.
Movies and television series are no longer reluctant to explore
themes related to faith. Yet a typical church has plenty of emp-
ty pews on Sunday morning. Gathering involves more than
bringing people into churches, but getting them to show up
would seem like a reasonable first step.
Until the 1960s (and later in some places) the church, for all
its shortcomings, was the place where friends and neighbors
gathered. Anchored at the epicenter of community life — so-
cial center, civic center, communications hub and, incidental-
ly, worship center all wrapped into one — churches played a
major role in people’s lives. I suppose we’ll never know how
many of those who filled the pews and choir lofts were there
primarily to worship. Some surely came to pray and hear the
sermon, but others were no doubt more interested in sharing
or receiving the latest local news.
Such speculation makes us wonder if declining church at-
tendance could be, in some oddly convoluted way, a healthy
development. In this age of cell phones, e-mail, texting and in-
stant messaging, no one needs to go to church to catch up on
neighborhood gossip. Perhaps some attrition of members can
be chalked up to a “purging of the insincere.” Socially motivat-
ed church-goers may have been filtered out, like water in the
manufacture of condensed soup. But alas… this prospect begs
some weighty questions: Is not the loss of any, regardless of
Gathering 33
motivation, still a loss? How can the church “make disciples”

if it’s preaching only to the choir?
The greater challenge, of course, is not the fact that churches are
losing “market share,” but the reality that our way of operating
— our marketing plan, as some may think of it — has become
sadly obsolete. Historically, American churches were founded
to serve geographically-bounded communities — the parish-
es, precincts or neighborhoods where people lived and worked
and raised their children. I grew up knowing the names of all
the families within a half-mile radius of our home. My father
commuted about 25 miles to work, but hardly anything else
in our family’s life took place more than a few miles from our
front door. The major landmarks on my childhood horizon —
church and school — were both within walking distance. But
that was a half-century ago. Today I scarcely know the family
next-door, and the closest parallel to the neighborhood of my
youth is a contact list stored in my PDA.
Those who still worship in neighborhood churches share a
much smaller fraction of their lives with families in adjacent
pews. Where the social cohesion of a neighborhood was once a
given, churches now must build community among worship-
ers who may or may not live nearby. Leaders in mainline de-
nominations occasionally sneer at the magnet churches and
megachurches that have blossomed in recent decades; but what
viable alternative, what workable model do they offer? While
numbers are certainly not everything, a church that fails to
attract new worshipers will eventually die. If we are to fulfill
our mission as followers of Christ and members of his body,
we must allow ourselves — as individuals and as churches —
to be reformed.
Berry Picking
Returning to our central metaphor, the apostolic trajectory be-
gins with gathering, and that implies more than coming togeth-
er for worship. As a child, I remember gathering wild blueber-
ries on a hillside. The land belonged to a local dairy farmer,
but he hadn’t planted the berries, nor did he claim them. They
were there for anyone who had the time, energy and desire
to pick them. In that respect, gathering wild blueberries has a
lot in common with gathering disciples. They’re all around us,
but they’re likely to wither and drop to the ground if no one
seeks them out and gathers them in.
Common sense tells us the first step in gathering people is to
extend an invitation, so we hang a sign in front of the church
proclaiming, “All Are Welcome” or “Join Us for Worship!” It’s
a very nice sign — possibly the proud handiwork of a carpen-
ter or artisan in the congregation — and we may even hon-
or its presence with a formal dedication. Then we go back to
planning a church growth strategy that has no real hope of
growing the church.
We can also be quite conscientious about what happens inside
the front door, extending a hand and a hearty welcome to each
visitor on Sunday morning. But aside from intentional “church
shoppers” — new residents, couples looking for a wedding
venue or a place to have their baby baptized — who is mo-
tivated to walk through those doors? While most churches
have a welcoming committee or hospitality team or commu-
nity outreach task force, the fact is we’re not very good at
reaching out.
As demonstrated in the preceding paragraphs, it’s all too easy
to identify and criticize programs designed to attract people
to church. It doesn’t take more than casual observation to con-
clude that such efforts are largely ineffective… but I’m not sure
Gathering 35
that’s what we need to be concerned about. In the broader con-

text of Christian mission, the question that truly matters is not
whether we’re bringing people into our churches but whether
they’re being prepared to follow Jesus Christ. In later chapters
we’ll consider how a church can become a more fertile incu-
bator for disciples and a more effective training ground for
apostles; but for now let’s leave it at this: it’s folly to assume
that church members automatically become disciples. We’ve
alluded to a 21st-century reformation, and the heart of that ref-
ormation is a new understanding of what it means to be the
body of Christ. It all begins with the gathering call.
Calling Disciples
Jesus began with “Follow me,” but if I were to suggest trying
that technique today you’d probably laugh in my face (or toss
this book in the nearest recycling bin). Conventional wisdom
tells us that no one in his or her right mind would drop every-
thing and follow a perfect stranger. But we’re not ready to con-
clude that Simon Peter and Andrew, or James and John, or any
of the twelve were lacking in common sense; so we make an-
other assumption: There was something extraordinary about
Jesus — a power, an aura, some magical quality — that capti-
vated people’s imaginations, rendering them unable to deny
his command. Once we’ve accepted that conclusion, we’re off
the hook. We can’t expect anyone to follow us because we’re
not Jesus. Our churches have no special magnetism; they’re as-
semblies of ordinary people who must rely on proven, rational
methods — advertising, welcome signs, marketing strategies,
special events — to attract the “unchurched” and bring “new
blood” into our midst.
But what about the body of Christ? If we are who we say we are
— the body of Christ in today’s world — isn’t that a remark-
able phenomenon? Aren’t we doing something truly extraor-
dinary when we proclaim the presence of the living Christ?

Don’t we claim to be empowered by God’s Holy Spirit? Then,
for heaven’s sake, where is the power? Has the church become
such a timid, insecure institution that we can no longer risk
asserting the radical claims of the Gospel? Are we no longer
capable of believing that Christ truly lives in us? These are a
few of the questions that must be answered if we expect the
call to Christian discipleship to be heard in our time, and if the
church is to survive in the 21st century.
Part of the challenge is the fact that most people who care about
the church are already part of it. When we contemplate gath-
ering disciples, we’re thinking about enticing others to enter
our world — to be where we are — to become one of us. We’re
viewing the church from the inside out, and we’re stymied be-
cause we have no way to see what Simon Peter and Andrew
saw. In our day-to-day experience of the church, we’re seldom
in touch with the power that changed lives with the simple
words, “Follow me.”
If we could step outside the church and regard ourselves as
others see us, would we recognize the power of the Holy Spirit
within? If we could gaze into our congregation the way those
first disciples looked into the eyes of Jesus, would we see what
they saw? I think it’s safe to suggest that most of the time, in
most of our churches, the answer would be No.
If we really want to gather disciples for Christ, it’s obvious that
we need something more than a “Welcome” sign and a team of
greeters with a friendly attitude. While those may be healthy
steps toward signing up new members, there’s no guarantee
that a few more names on the church’s rolls will actually add
disciples to the body of Christ. New members may feel good
about joining the church; they may pledge their financial sup-
port; they may even lend their time and talents to the church’s
Gathering 37
programs. But if their lives aren’t changed enough to make a

difference in the world — if their friends, co-workers and fel-
low students aren’t wondering, “What do they have that we
don’t?” — if no one looks at them and sees what Simon and
Andrew saw — they’re doing little more than filling pews and
slowing the church’s decline.
Americans have long been seduced by the notion that bigger
is better. The 20th century church thrived on the conviction
that millions of members in thousands of congregations were
evidence of God’s kingdom on earth. And in many ways that
was true: Desperate families were sustained through times of
economic depression and natural disasters; grieving parents
were comforted and upheld when sons and daughters gave
their lives in wars; communities were held together by the
bonds of faith. Strong churches built stronger families, bet-
ter neighborhoods, and a more resilient society. But the needs
of today’s world will not be satisfied by larger churches with
bigger budgets and well-trained clergy. What the world needs
now is disciples and apostles bearing witness to the power of
the Holy Spirit.
Fatal Attraction
Ask the average American what she’d be willing to die for and
you’ll hear a deafening silence or a very short list. Even those
who begin with silence may eventually mutter the word “fam-
ily” or the name of a child, spouse or grandchild. Some may
add “my country,” and a few will say “my God” or “my faith;”
but most will be hard pressed to imagine how dying for their
God could actually come into play. I may be a skeptic, but I sin-
cerely doubt if more than one in 1,000 would think of saying,
“I’d be willing to die for my church.” Even if they thought it,
they might not say it, because… well, it would just sound cra-
zy. The church, after all, has become an organization, a well-
established institution — surely not something to die for. But

is that what we’d say about the body of Christ?
They didn’t know it at the time, but what Simon and Andrew
and the others saw in Jesus was something worth dying for —
and someone who’d be willing to die for them. That’s the best
way I know to express the depth and intensity of compassion,
love, faith, generosity and radical hospitality epitomized in the
Son of God. The closer we come to modeling these virtues, the
less we’ll need to rely on marketing, outreach and advertising.
If people look at us and see the Holy Spirit instead of one more
service club — if they see the living Christ and not a dormant
institution — we won’t need to worry about whether they’ll
join the church. If what others see in us is something worth
dying for, we won’t be able to stop them from sharing in the
body of Christ.
Disciples are gathered not by clever strategies, but by irresist-
ible attraction. A welcome sign and friendly greeters are infi-
nitely more effective when the invitation comes from a place of
love and hope. If every church were such a place, there would
be no need for the remaining chapters of this book.
Equipping 39
Three
Equipping
For as in one body we have many members, and not all the
members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body
in Christ, and individually we are members one of another.
We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us:
prophecy, in proportion to faith; ministry, in ministering;
the teacher, in teaching; the exhorter, in exhortation;
the giver, in generosity; the leader, in diligence;
the compassionate, in cheerfulness.
Romans 12: 4-8
The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles,
some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers,
to equip the saints for the work of ministry,
for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to
the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God,
to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ.
Ephesians 4: 11-13
Imagine Jesus calling James and John and immediately, that

very hour, directing them to “Go… and make disciples of all
nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the
Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28: 19). Regardless of
their unhesitating response to Jesus’s first words, “Follow me,”
the two young men would have no idea what to do next. It’s
not that they’d be averse to taking orders. As apprentices in
the family business, the brothers ben Zebedee were surely ac-
customed to doing their father’s bidding. But making disciples
and baptizing were never taught in fishing school.
Recognizing their limited experience, Jesus didn’t put disci-
pling or baptizing on the brothers’ to-do list right away. The
first day — or the first 100 days, or longer — their mission was
simply to listen, watch and follow. Along the way, they would
come to understand all they needed to know. They would grow
in faith and dedication; and when the time came to be sent out
as Christ’s apostles, they would be prepared to continue his
mission in the world.
Call – Discipleship – Apostleship… Gathering – Equipping –
Sending… The trajectory modeled by the first apostles is one
of Christ’s greatest gifts to the church: a prototype so well
defined, a template so clearly described that the children of a
thousand cultures in a hundred different eras of human his-
tory could follow it with ease. If only our churches would live
by its wisdom…
Missing Link
We get the significance of the apostolic trajectory… up to a
point. It defines the rhythm of worship in Christian churches
around the world: gathering (a call to worship, greeting, open-
ing hymn), equipping (Scripture lessons, a homily or sermon,
musical themes reflecting the lesson, and embodiment of
Equipping 41
Christ’s presence in communion, baptism or other rites), and

sending (a closing hymn, charge to the congregation and bene-
diction). But the sacred rhythm is so neatly contained within
the walls of our worship space and between the appointed
times for Sunday school, coffee hour and other activities, that
we forget what it’s about. We forget that Sunday morning wor-
ship is not a brief, weekly vacation from our daily routine, but
a time to reconnect with God, to offer our confessions, thanks-
giving and praise, and to renew the spiritual heartbeat — the
sacred rhythm — of our lives. We forget that the rhythm of
worship is, or ought to be, not an artifact of religious tradition,
but a dynamic model for Christian living.
If we aren’t making this connection between worship and the
work, study, family time, laughter and lament that occupy the
rest of our week… if our Sunday morning experience doesn’t
help us face whatever we may encounter on Monday morn-
ing… if the rhythm we rehearse in worship doesn’t empower
our day-to-day living with growing strength like a snowball
rolling downhill… if we aren’t stronger at the end of the week
than we were when it began… then we and our churches des-
perately need a refresher course in equipping.
On the journey from “Follow me” to “Go and make disciples”
— the years between “From now on you will be catching peo-
ple” (Luke 5: 10b) and “You will be my witnesses” — the dis-
ciples were constantly learning by word and example. Jesus
never told them what to believe. He gave them time to reach
their own conclusions and develop their own faith. They raised
questions, dealt with doubt and confusion, and made their
share of mistakes. But when it was time for Jesus to depart,
they discovered something totally unexpected: Despite their
stumbling and false starts, they had become apostles, ready to
teach and baptize and bear witness to the risen Christ.
In a few short years, without benefit of prior training or a

seminary education, twelve people had been plucked from or-
dinary, mundane pursuits and thoroughly transformed. One
day they were mending fishing gear or toting up tax bills; the
next day they were students, followers, disciples of an itiner-
ant carpenter-preacher; and before they knew it they’d become
ambassadors, apostles of God’s saving grace in the world. All
that, with a drop-out rate of only 8.3% (one in twelve). Within a
few years, they’d been gathered, equipped and sent out to change
the world. Just like us.
Trading Stories
Well… perhaps not exactly like us. How does the story of your
church differ from the disciples’ journey with Jesus? How does
your personal experience compare with the transformation of
James, Peter, Thomas or any of the twelve? Chances are you’ve
noticed some disparity; but we’re not inclined to worry about
it because, after all, they had the flesh-and-blood Jesus and all
we have is the church.
All we have is the church. Isn’t that like saying, “They had the
real thing, but all we have is an institution”? When you read it
that way, it sounds quite reasonable. But what if we substitute
a few words? “They had the real thing, but all we have is the body
of Christ.” We might choke on that one. If we believe that the
church is the body of Christ, it’s not so easy to write it off as a
second-rate substitute for “the real thing.”
This is our dilemma: Treat the church as a mere institution
and deny its power to change lives, or treat it as the body of
Christ and forfeit any excuse for its limited effectiveness. If
we choose the second option, we’re asking for major reforma-
tion. Among other things, the church must rediscover what it
means to equip its members for ministry, service and Christian
Equipping 43
living. We must reclaim the Holy Spirit’s power to transform

seekers into disciples and disciples into apostles.
Semper Reformanda
As people of the resurrection, our faith is rooted in hope and
love. The message of forgiveness and salvation naturally gives
rise to a theology of hope and a culture of abundance. Yet over
the centuries the church has fostered a climate of constraint,
commonly manifest as reluctance to embrace change (fear of
losing the familiar). The church’s resistance to change is almost
laughingly ironic, considering that God sent Jesus to transform
our lives and, through us, to change the world.
A climate of constraint is the perfect incubator for a culture of
scarcity and control where the primary role of decision-mak-
ers is to establish rules and enforce boundaries. If our funda-
mental assumption is that resources (including spiritual gifts)
are limited, leaders feel obligated to use them sparingly and
rigid guidelines naturally evolve. When we fall into this trap,
the church attempts to box people in while the body of Christ
is committed to setting them free. You and I have neither the
power nor the influence to resolve the tension between these
two forces without a lot of help — God’s help.
A watchword of the 16th century reformation, Ecclesia refor-
mata, semper reformanda (the church reformed [and] always be-
ing reformed) may be equally appropriate today. But we must
guard against a common misunderstanding. If we think of the
church as always reforming rather than always being reformed,
we’re tacitly denying the role of the Holy Spirit, without which
the most meaningful transformation cannot be attained. The
reform we need today is beyond the scope of human imagina-
tion or authority. There are steps we can take, but the first and
most vital is for us, and the institutions we’ve created, to get out
of the way. If we’re unwilling or unable to open “our” churches

to the power of God’s Holy Spirit, we have become guardians
of the status quo rather than agents of positive change.
What does this have to do with equipping? If we accept the ap-
ostolic trajectory as a model for Christian life, the church’s cen-
tral mission can be summed up in one word: transformation —
transforming seekers into disciples and disciples into apostles.
But transforming lives is not something we can accomplish on
our own; it’s the work of the Holy Spirit. We are the support-
ing actors, setting the stage — creating appropriate conditions
— for 21st-century Christians to discover God’s empowering
Spirit in their lives. Our job is to prepare the church to be re-
formed.
I believe God is ready to act boldly in our time, to reform the
church and continue transforming the world. But you and I
have important work to do. It is up to us to clear the way, al-
lowing hope and trust to displace long-established attitudes
of scarcity and control. It’s up to us to restore the church’s cul-
ture of abundance, and this is no trivial task. The stakes are
high and the obstacles are deeply rooted; but we’re guided by
a rabbi whose most frequent admonition was, “Fear not.” And
just as Jesus prepared his disciples for their mission, our duty
is to equip today’s Christians for theirs.
The surest way to dissolve a culture of control is by equip-
ping every member. When the knowledge, insight and skill
required to keep an organization running are guarded by a
few, others naturally defer to their judgment. The elite, in other
words, are in control. But if every member of the body were to
discover his or her unique gifts and understand their contri-
butions to the church’s ministry and mission, each one could
become empowered as an apostle of Jesus Christ. The journey
toward that realization — a journey of discovery and prepara-
Equipping 45
tion — is the equipping phase of the apostolic trajectory.

If the church is to become, once again, the body of Christ in
the world, it must redirect its energy and attention toward the
singular task of equipping the saints for ministry and mission in
Christ’s name. Let’s try to understand what that means:
By the end of the 20th century, a preponderance of churches
in North America had come to believe that their greatest chal-
lenge, and therefore the primary focus of their attention, was
the attraction and retention of members. In a society that op-
erates as if everything, even the grace of God, were subject to
verification by numbers and dollars, the importance of mem-
bership growth was (and still is) taken for granted. But what
sense does it make for the church to be governed by a bottom-
line mentality? Can witnessing or making disciples be mea-
sured by the number of names on our rolls or dollars pledged
to our programs? My guess is that Jesus would say we’ve got
it backwards: Instead of monitoring the turnstile at the front
door, we ought to be counting apostles who’ve been catapulted
into mission.
With the Spirit’s Help

In the previous chapter, we asserted that what truly matters
is not whether we’re bringing people into our churches but
whether they’re being prepared to follow Jesus Christ. This
begs the question: What are we doing to prepare them? How
does the church equip any of us to demonstrate Christ’s pres-
ence in the world? Being immersed in a culture of abundance
and generosity is an essential prerequisite, but it’s not the full
answer. Creating a productive environment is just the first
step. It’s what we do within that environment — how we ful-
fill the church’s equipping mission — that can make all the
difference.
Equipping members, or merely sustaining them… This is one

of the most consequential choices a church must make. We can
choose by default, or we can do everything within our power
to open doors and windows to the winds of the Holy Spirit.
We can surround people with the love of Christ, nurture and
preserve them like a cocoon and pray that they won’t suffocate
(and some, no doubt, may thrive). Or we can help them discov-
er their gifts and talents, and equip them with all the tools and
resources they need to grow into dynamic, Christ-centered
servants and leaders — perhaps within the church, but just as
likely in their own domains, the places where God has called
them to impact a life, or a community, or the world.
If we choose to act, how do we begin? There is no definitive
answer, but I’ll try to offer an example. I’ve spent the past de-
cade as an interim pastor, helping congregations find their
way through times of transition. The interim period provides
an opportunity to assess a congregation’s strengths and dis-
cover untapped potential, often leading to a renewed sense of
identity and clearer goals for the church’s ministries. This pro-
cess can also raise awareness of unexplored possibilities, pro-
voking interest and enthusiasm among previously unengaged
segments of the membership. As people begin to move from
the margins to more visible roles, a new generation of church
leaders may emerge.
In one congregation, the nominating committee (responsible
for proposing candidates to serve as elders and deacons) was
inspired to re-examine its charge. After much discussion and
prayer they launched an experiment, effectively turning their
usual procedure upside down. The common practice had been
to identify the responsibilities of outgoing officers and seek
replacements with similar skills (e.g., if one of the departing
elders had chaired the personnel committee, they would look
for someone with experience in human resources to fill that
Equipping 47
position). It certainly seemed logical to find the most qualified

individual for each vacancy.
But what about equipping the saints? And what if God were
calling someone else to help lead the congregation? Could it
be that “business as usual” is not what God expects from the
church? Pondering these and other questions, the nominating
committee extended an open invitation to the congregation. It
read something like this:
What is God calling you to do with your life?
What unique talents have you been blessed to receive,
and how can you use them in God’s service?
Please join us for an hour-and-a-half on Tuesday evening…
Committee members also made personal calls to some who
needed special encouragement; but what happened next sur-
prised everyone: The turn-out was far greater than expected,
and the opportunity was so well received that it was repeated
several times throughout the year.
The event itself was very simple, beginning with a half-hour
Bible study based on passages about spiritual gifts and how
we are called to use them to advance the kingdom. The sec-
ond half-hour focused on opportunities for service within the
church, followed by a time to respond with questions and ex-
pressions of interest. Remarkably, the overwhelming majority
of members who attended one of these workshops didn’t leave
without declaring a desire to become more involved in some
particular area of the church’s ministries. Some felt called to
serve in leadership roles, while others simply wanted to help
where they could. The experiment proved to be a true gift to
the nominating committee, as they were able to fill their slate
with people who had not been coerced to accept nomination,
but actually felt called to serve as church leaders.
This kind of thinking can begin to change the culture of a con-

gregation. Sometimes opening a single window is enough to
let the winds of the Spirit move through the minds and hearts
of God’s people. Sometimes entire walls must be torn down;
but when we get out of the way, amazing things are bound to
happen.
Helping people discern how they are called to serve is, of
course, just the first step in the church’s mission of equipping.
Having a gift and the willingness to use it doesn’t guarantee
that I’ll know how to accomplish what needs to be done next
week or next month. At the very least, I’ll require a job descrip-
tion defining the scope of my responsibility and clarifying the
chain of command (To whom am I accountable, and does any-
one else report to me?). A general orientation would be helpful,
to be sure I understand the policies and practices of the church.
I may need access to a computer network or other resources to
carry out my assignment. And of course I’ll require some spe-
cialized training if my project is unique to the church.
In the corporate world, equipping people to do their jobs is a
given; but the percentage of churches that offer anything more
than a brief orientation is embarrassingly minute. Instead of
showing people how much we value their talents and honor
their sense of call, we tend to treat them as “only volunteers.”
I suppose the rationale is that the church isn’t paying for their
time, so it doesn’t matter if it’s used efficiently. The unfortu-
nate flip-side of that assumption, of course, is “You get what
you pay for.” Perhaps we can’t afford the resources needed to
equip every person as well as we’d like, but that doesn’t excuse
us for not trying. There is no justification for taking any mem-
ber of the body of Christ for granted.
Equipping 49
More Than Tasks

In the Real World section (beginning in Chapter Five) we’ll dis-
cuss how your congregation can work toward more effective
equipping. But before we move on, one point deserves further
emphasis. In the last few paragraphs we’ve talked about equip-
ping people for tasks they’ve agreed to accomplish, which is
really nothing more than common sense. The point this illus-
trates, however, is infinitely more significant.
When a person is equipped to use her talents most effectively,
she is freed from intimidation or fear of failure; she is empow-
ered. Where there is empowerment, there is hope; and where
hope is infused with the promise of new life in Jesus Christ, all
things are possible. Scarcity and control are banished from the
church, and a culture of abundance can thrive once again. But
this is only a prerequisite — a means, but not an end.
To fulfill the church’s mission, equipping people to accomplish
tasks is essential but not sufficient. To be transformed from
seekers to disciples, we must be equipped to follow Jesus. To be
transformed from disciples to apostles, we must be equipped to
lead. And if the responsibility of leadership is, as Lesslie New-
begin asserted, “to lead the congregation as a whole in a mis-
sion to the community as a whole, to claim its whole public
life, as well as the lives of all its people, for God’s rule,”xx we’d
better take the job of equipping leaders very seriously.
In Chapter One we concluded that we are the 21st-century mis-
sion field; the culture in need of transformation is embodied
in our communities, our society, our way of life. Changing the
status quo requires Christ-centered leadership in civic, political
and corporate life as well as in the church. But such leader-
ship will not emerge spontaneously. It’s not something taught
in seminaries; it must be developed and modeled within con-
gregations — a grass-roots reformation that won’t begin when
someone posts a declaration on the door of a cathedral or in

the hallway of a denominational office. It will start when you
and I stop wondering who we can send into the community
and the world and recognize that we are the ones being sent. It
will start when we’re ready to roll up our sleeves and get busy
equipping ourselves and our peers to change the world.
We’re not talking about “marshaling the troops.” Effective
leadership (which we will explore in more depth in Chapter
Nine) is not about command and control, but persistence and
faithfulness. If you want to lead, you must allow yourself to
be transformed. You have to “put away your former way of
life, your old self, corrupt and deluded by its lusts, and… be
renewed in the spirit of your minds, and… clothe yourselves
with the new self, created according to the likeness of God
in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4: 22-24). The
equipping mission of the church, in other words, is nothing
less than the total reforming and reshaping of our lives. This
is not a task for a human institution; it’s the work of the body
of Christ.
Sending 51
four
Sending
Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”
After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side.
Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.
Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you.
As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”
When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them,
“Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are
forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”
John 20: 19b-23
For the baby-boomer generation born in the mid-20th century,
sending missionaries to underdeveloped countries was a natu-
ral extension of our world view. We grew up believing that life
in the U.S.A. was superior to the experience any other nation
could offer. We assumed that everyone on the planet wanted
to be like us, so the idea of exporting our way of life, includ-
ing our religion, was anything but radical. In such a buoyant
climate, we felt obligated to dispatch Christian missionaries

to any clan or tribe with an exotic name or a non-European
language.
Now, facing the reality of a flatter world and seeing our mythi-
cal status of world-wide envy and desire supplanted by the
vagaries of a developing global economy, whatever passion we
once had for mission has lost its mystique. We’ve gone from
the pride of sending teachers and doctors around the globe
to the meager satisfaction of writing an occasional check, to
the frustration of virtual impotence in the face of overwhelm-
ing needs — the orphans of genocide and war, the ravages of
AIDS, the scourge of massive poverty… It’s no fun to fall off the
hero’s white horse and find ourselves wallowing in the mud of
challenges we can barely comprehend, let alone master. But
this may be exactly where we needed to land, just as Saul was
struck down on the road to Damascus, in order to hear and
discern what God is calling us to do.
The mission of the church has not changed, but its mission-
ary activity has always taken shape at the fluid intersection of
theology and context. To be an effective witness — the visible
presence of Christ in our place and time — the church must
proclaim the Gospel in ways that our society can understand.
The lesson of Pentecost has been taught and learned, forgotten
and re-learned hundreds of times over the centuries.
In our present context, the Christian message is clearly coun-
tercultural, challenging us to communicate and interact with
our society while guarding against being co-opted or cor-
rupted by its wiles. The theology-context juncture is as sticky
as fly-paper. But we are by no means the first generation to
face this dilemma. Paul’s letters are filled with admonitions
and correctives for early churches derailed by the ways of the
world. Yet each era has its own unique characteristics, and
Sending 53
some aspects of our situation are without precedent. We may

not be equipped to function in Paul’s world, but I suspect he’d
be nonplussed by the rapid-fire exchange of vindictive com-
mentary in today’s blogosphere.
Through, or in response to, groups calling themselves “emer-
gent,” “post-denominational,” “progressive,” “evangelical” or
“missional,” today’s church is just beginning to acknowledge
the quandary it faces. Some among us have finally grasped
that the church has fallen out of touch with the real world.
Sure, we’ve been saying that for a long time, but we haven’t
done anything to show that we really understood it… be-
cause we didn’t. With few exceptions, everything we’ve done
(or, more accurately, talked about doing) has been targeted at
the entry point of the apostolic trajectory. Outreach, advertis-
ing, “seeker services” and creative use of media have all been
targeted toward bringing new people into the church — the
gathering mode. The problem is: without understanding how
to equip our members and send them into the world around us,
there’s not much reason to gather.
We’ve used the term trajectory to emphasize the continuity of
progress from gathering to sending — from spiritual infancy
to maturity in Christ. When you picture a trajectory, you don’t
see a series of steps or a jagged line; you imagine an arc, a cur-
vilinear form suggesting constant movement and flow. One
doesn’t stand still on a trajectory. The rate of motion may ac-
celerate or decelerate, but it never stops; nothing is static. That’s
why the apostolic trajectory represents such a challenge to the
church. We call ourselves the body of Christ; but to the fast-
paced, 21st-century world, we may look more like his corpse.
The church has hit a wall, which is perfectly understandable.
Our notion of sending has always involved a destination be-
yond our natural orbit — some distant place or foreign culture
waiting to be converted, to be saved by the good news of Jesus

Christ. Now we’re being asked to see ourselves — our own
neighborhoods, communities and culture — as the mission
field, and we have no idea how to approach it.
We’re challenged to attain a level of spiritual maturity that, to
say the least, makes us uncomfortable. In order to bring God’s
prophetic message to our own society, we must do one of
two things: totally abdicate our allegiance to the world we’ve
learned to love, or achieve a degree of self-differentiation that
doesn’t come naturally to 21st-century Americans. In other
words, unless we’re willing to reject our culture and become
true “outsiders” (if that would even be possible), we must be
equipped to change our culture from within. That will require,
among other things, clear differentiation between our calling
as Christians and our role as citizens of the world. We cannot
be effective ambassadors for Christ if our egos are dependent
on positive reinforcement or praise from our peers. We must
become spiritually mature Christians whose faith seeks vali-
dation and renewal from one source alone: God’s Holy Spirit.
Sending and equipping are inextricably linked. Without spiri-
tual equipping, we cannot hope to penetrate the faith/culture
divide. We can’t be sent where we’re most needed if we are un-
able to recognize the neediness staring back at us from the mir-
ror. Mature Christians must be able to see both the strengths
and weaknesses of our own society with equal clarity, without
feeling threatened by what we observe. Differentiation — the
ability to function as whole and healthy people apart from our
interdependent or codependent relationships with others — is
a key marker of spiritual maturity, and an essential character-
istic of those sent forth to prepare the world for transforma-
tion.
Sending 55
Sent for What?

How many apostles has your church sent out this week? This
year? This decade? If there are too many to count, you don’t
need to be reading this book. But if you can’t think of any, or
you’re struggling to identify one or two, you may want to keep
that in mind as you work through the Real World section (Part
Three). And remember that differentiation is not simply a pre-
requisite for spiritual maturity. It isn’t something you must at-
tain on your own before joining the ranks of the spiritually
mature. The two go hand-in-hand. Perhaps the church cannot
teach you to be a healthy, fully-differentiated individual; but
as you grow in faith and build the spiritual strength to be sent
into the mission field of your life, you will become a healthier
person. Guaranteed. It takes a strong, self-differentiated indi-
vidual to share in the work of the Holy Spirit.
Christian apostles are people claimed by God, no longer be-
longing to the world. Think of them as being on loan to the
world, sent as agents of transformation, agents of change. Some
may be sent to share wise counsel, some to teach, some to heal,
some to cast vision or inspire miracles, some to discern God’s
will, and others to promote understanding among all people;
but all are empowered by God’s Spirit (1 Corinthians 12: 7-10,
loosely translated).
Disciples (students, followers) become apostles (ambassadors,
full-fledged Christians) when we are prepared to undertake
the mission God has given us — i.e., when we are empowered
and commissioned by the Holy Spirit. The church is here to
help us discover our spiritual gifts, equip us to use them ef-
fectively, guide us in discerning our mission, and send us out
to serve. The rest is up to God.
So how many apostles has your church sent out this week?
Perhaps this question is starting to make more sense, but
you’re still not sure how to answer. It’s obviously not as

simple as counting teachers, physicians, preachers and in-
terpreters. That would suggest that bankers, farmers, ac-
countants and real estate agents could never be “full-fledged
Christians,” not to mention the implications for prison war-
dens and tax collectors. Professional pursuits are clearly
not the right standard; but how are we to identify apostles?
We didn’t have this challenge when the mission field was some
place “over there” on the other side of the world. It was easy
to see who had been called to do God’s transformative, life-
changing work. All we had to do was read their names on our
church’s roster of missionary personnel.
How many apostles has your church sent out this week? There
is probably no way to come up with a definitive, quantitative
answer. But the question does matter. It’s important, not as a
statistical measure, but as an aspiration. In a world where the
“bottom line” rules, we are tempted to judge our churches
by their numbers — membership, worship attendance, Sun-
day school enrollment, contributions received… the list seems
endless — so the least we can do is make sure we’re looking at
the right numbers. If the mission field is our own community,
shouldn’t we pay as much attention to the people we’re sending
out as we do to those we’re trying to draw in? God finds ways
to use all of us, but a radically transformed bookkeeper may
be more effective at changing lives than a nominally-Christian
middle school teacher. It’s a matter of equipping and sending.
How many apostles has your church sent out this week?

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Hope for Bleak Times

Real World: Third Millennium

Faith… Religion… Church

maintaining institutions — churches — rather than empower-

Beyond the Mission Field

Like an honest conversation with God (a.k.a. prayer), our dis-

calendar and revolved around church-related activities and

What Took So Long?

Reshaped by the Protestant movement and reactionary over-

halls of denominational offices see fewer smiles and hear less

So Many Changes, So Little Time

Significant as it was, the influence of high-speed transporta-

understanding. For many, threatened by the military draft and

Here We Are… Ready or Not

To those who study the relationship between church and soci-

Rediscovering the Apostolic Trajectory

Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1: 8) —

tational field — they’ve given us a whole new understanding

The apostolic trajectory — the path Jesus modeled for the

ing their mission. Their journey — scooped up, swirled and

There’s Mission, and There’s Mission

church acted as if it could save the world. Yet a careful reading

obeying the Great Commission, if only by writing a check. So

20th-century understanding of mission. Pointing to a mission

secular, global society hungry for meaning, hungry for truth.

ing. Consider the alternatives. Don’t be fooled by a sweet-talking

The enigma is apparent: How can we pass on the Biblical stories

Living the Faith

advances in science and technology that foster a powerful il-

motivation, still a loss? How can the church “make disciples”

that’s what we need to be concerned about. In the broader con-

dinary when we proclaim the presence of the living Christ?

programs. But if their lives aren’t changed enough to make a

established institution — surely not something to die for. But

Imagine Jesus calling James and John and immediately, that

Christ’s presence in communion, baptism or other rites), and

In a few short years, without benefit of prior training or a

living. We must reclaim the Holy Spirit’s power to transform

of the way. If we’re unwilling or unable to open “our” churches

tion — is the equipping phase of the apostolic trajectory.

With the Spirit’s Help

Equipping members, or merely sustaining them… This is one

position). It certainly seemed logical to find the most qualified

This kind of thinking can begin to change the culture of a con-

More Than Tasks

someone posts a declaration on the door of a cathedral or in

climate, we felt obligated to dispatch Christian missionaries

some aspects of our situation are without precedent. We may

waiting to be converted, to be saved by the good news of Jesus

Sent for What?

you’re still not sure how to answer. It’s obviously not as

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