Reading Luke/Acts Together #56 - Mission Statement

Acts 2:42-47. About 25 years ago, a mandate came down from our denominational authorities, declaring each Church had to meet and devise an official “mission statement.” So in obedience, I pulled together a group, explained our task – but then was a bit startled by a woman who interrupted to say “This is ridiculous. Everybody knows what the Church’s mission is: To do the stuff Jesus told us to do.” We wrote that down, sent it in, and were home after a 3 minute meeting.

The business of the early Church was rather wonderfully depicted in Acts 2:42: They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and to prayer. Pretty simple, all-encompassing, focused, holy… and yet we can complicate things, can’t we? What would happen if all our churches decided we would 1. do the stuff Jesus told us to do, and 2. devote ourselves to the apostles’ teaching, to fellowship, to breaking bread, and to prayer?

The apostles’ teaching would not be the biases, pet notions, and ideologies we pick up out in the world; conventional wisdom isn’t of Christ just because we like it, or wish it were so, or say it out loud in Church. The apostles’ teaching was shocking, counter-cultural, far from business as usual, subversive to the political order, and upsetting to the norms of society – and so very true, substantial, life-giving. When the apostles taught (as we read in the rest of Acts), riots were sparked, and the apostles wound up in jail – and so many lives were changed. What if we decide that whatever Jesus said, whatever this Christian message really is, will be our blueprint for life?

Fellowship isn’t when we get together at church to enjoy the company of people we like, or who are like us. The Greek word koinonia means an extraordinary sharing, a radical hospitality that isn’t mere friendliness, but is the warm embrace of those who aren’t like us, whom we might not like, cutting across social and economic boundaries. In fact, Jesus longed and longs for his church to be the one place where people who don’t look alike, who live in very different parts of town, who do very different things for a living, and who surprise and befuddle onlookers simply by being together and loving one another. Remember my old saying: if you only hang around with people like you, you become arrogant and ignorant. Jesus wants his people to be humble and wise.

The breaking of bread was certainly what we’d call Holy Communion, but also the daily delight of eating meals together; some who had plenty took a little less so those with less wouldn’t go hungry. I think of my grandmother’s table: poor as she may have been, there was always room for some passerby, a neighbor, a farmhand weary at day’s end – always room for one more. And there’s some magic in eating together, isn’t there? Deep bonds form. You don’t grab the last biscuit. You pass the potatoes. You do the dishes together.

And the Prayers: the early Christians prayed, not because their prayers “worked,” or because this proved to be a fulfilling activity. They were on intimate terms with their Lord, and thus conversation with their Lord throughout the day was like breathing, or gravity keeping your feet on the ground.

What if the Church got devouringly hungry to learn more about God and the Scriptures? and welcomed any and everybody, even seeking them out? and made sure everyone had enough? and spoke with and listened to God constantly?