I’m an evangelist of a lot of things. There’s this flavor of Turkey Hill ice cream called Double Dunker. It’s chocolate and coffee ice cream—mocha—swirled together with ribbons of crumbled Oreo and gobs of chocolate chip cookie dough. I love it. I think it tastes better than what you’d get at a scoop shop. I could talk about Double Dunker all day, but I’d rather fix a bowl of it for you and myself and eat. Then we can talk about it together. I’m sure you would just as enthusiastically recommend it to another. I’m happy to tell you about it as long as you don’t take the last one from the grocery store freezer.
I’m an evangelist of the English language. For all its eccentricities, I love words and how we put them together. My favorite dinosaur is a thesaurus. Say, if someone were to ask if anyone still uses thesauruses (thesauri?), I wouldn’t waste a second raising my hands high in the air to share my affinity for synonyms and the books one can find them in.
Books, too. I’m always reading at least four or five books at once. That’s just because I can never make up my mind about what to read first. A pastor friend and I recommend books to one another most every week. We can’t keep it to ourselves. But am I just as evangelical about Jesus as I am about ice cream and the English language and books? Or as often? Hmm. I’m not sure I am.
Have you tried Jesus?
In the original language of the New Testament, the one Matthew writes in, the word for “evangelize,” the word for “gospel,” and the word for “Good News” is the same: euangelizomai.
Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it? Eu-on-go-lidz-o-mai. Say it with me, Eu-on-go-lidz-o-mai.
We should put extra emphasis on the “oh my,” as in “Oh my, this is Good News! Too good to keep to ourselves.” Jesus is alive, uncontained by tombs, too large to be held inside anything like our temples or church buildings. Jesus doesn’t fit inside of us, either. He’s personal, but He’s never private. If we know anything about Easter, it’s that Jesus cannot be contained. There’s no bottling Him or holding Him back. Jesus is not comfortable in enclosed spaces. Jesus keeps us for Himself, but we don’t dare keep Him for ourselves. That’s what the resurrection has to say. Jesus is alive, sovereign, and at-large. Oh, my!
Last week, we heard the first words the resurrected Jesus had for His disciples.
“Go. Go to Galilee. There you will see me.”
We have a God who goes, and faith means following. Jesus taught His disciples that having faith meant going somewhere. The early church called itself “a people of the Way.” I think we should bring that back. Faith means follow. Anything less is something else. The common understanding of faith as agreement with a set of religious facts doesn’t cut it. There are Christians everywhere who believe in all the right things but don’t follow Jesus. They do not know of a faith that goes to work—that accomplishes something. I’ve heard them referred to as “barcode Christians.” Jesus said it Himself.
“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say?”
Our faith is not made of stances; it’s made of steps. It’s directional. So, where’s your faith taking you? Where’s it going next?
The command within the Great Commission, “Go, and make disciples of all people groups,” is not the word “go”; it’s “make disciples.” That’s where the emphasis is. We should hear it this way: “As you make your way through the world, make disciples.”
And while we’re at it, we should also talk about what the word “disciple” means. Jesus isn’t telling us to make converts. There’s nothing wrong with conversion, but if that’s what we assume, we’re misunderstanding Jesus. A disciple isn’t a convert; a disciple is a learner. He’s telling us to make apprentices. See, the term “convert” implies a quick and complete change from one thing to something different, but salvation doesn’t work that way. Discipleship is a slow process of becoming more and more like Jesus—one none of us are ever done with.
It's the same with baptism. Jesus didn’t just send the church out to perform the ritual of baptism. The world will not be fixed by merely getting everyone wet. Baptism is not an event or a box to check on a religious to-do list. To be baptized is to be immersed completely into something. Baptism is a way of life. Baptism means going public as a disciple. Both baptism and discipleship are immersions into a new way of living. They are projects we undertake.
Perhaps you grew up, or are growing up, playing a sport like soccer, baseball, or basketball. Parents, maybe it seems like you spend half your life on the sidelines of one sort of field or another. There’s a great investment of time, energy, practice, and game time both athletes and their families put into being on a team. It’s quite demanding, isn’t it? But it’s expected of you. We dare not miss a practice or a game because we’re part of a team. There are coaches and teammates who are counting on us. We don’t want to let anyone down.
Becoming a better athlete is a worthy pursuit. I don’t think we talk enough about the worthy pursuit of discipleship to Jesus. I also think that one of the reasons people don’t pay close attention to church anymore is because most of what we do and how we do it asks too little of them. In general, people tend to sign up for things they can devote themselves to, and they stick around because it insists on keeping their attention, it demands something of them. That way they know it’s important and that their participation in it is also.
Most people who stay home on Sunday morning have no aversion to church, it’s just that they see what we’re up to and shrug their shoulders. To them, church is nice and all, but it’s not purposeful. It’s inconsequential. They don’t see a reason to throw in, to commit. So, what if we did something about that?
What if the Vision statement printed on the front of our bulletins isn’t just a slogan? What if we saw it as an action plan? Jesus has always asked for our faith to cost us something. He wants more than commitment; He wants our very lives. Jesus is high stakes. He calls us to a life of sacrificial love. Jesus is consequential, and our faith in Him should be, too.
I want to tell you about a man named Franklin Jones. Franklin was one of my youth advisors through my junior and senior high years. He caught my teenage attention because of his goofy sense of humor, his bad puns, and his transparent joy. To me, Franklin seemed unswayed by the trappings of this world. He made an impression on me because he was nothing but himself. He lived simply; he was humble and self-assured. He wasn’t out to impress anyone, which piqued my curiosity and got me wondering what truly makes for happiness.
His humble life was also a rich one, though. I could tell. He didn’t want for a thing. And even my 15-year-old self knew why. He taught me to rest in what’s simple. Because of him, I wondered if I could find Jesus there, too.
Franklin and I ended up going to seminary together. He was a year ahead of me. Now I was learning alongside one of my teachers, which was a sheer joy and a great gift. I wanted what Franklin had—a consequential faith. He wore his on his sleeve. He exuded Jesus. Jesus flowed out of Him, radiated from him, and I could never get enough.
Here’s the thing. At no point did Franklin ever say, “Let me tell you about my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” Franklin was just being himself, living his life out loud around me and others, and it shook off. He had Jesus inside, and I couldn’t look away.
Jesus is consequential. Oh my, this is Good News! Too good to keep to ourselves. Have you tried Jesus?
And one more thing, leave some Double Dunker for me.
All praises to the One who made it all and finds it beautiful! Alleluia! Amen.