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There are, it seems, a handful of moments which deeply alter our life’s pathway. This story is about one of them. |
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Church business as usual
Five years ago our church would have seemed normal, an Alliance congregation made up of young families. We were doing contemporary, and even some cutting-edge things to impact our smaller bedroom community located just north of Calgary. Airdrie Alliance was a growing, happening church, annually seeing 10-15 percent increases, with quite a few baptisms, a strong Youth Group and dynamic Kid’s Ministry, and we were evangelistically impacting those who visited one of our three weekend services.
We were about to launch our third building program in 11 years to accommodate the 700 plus worshippers. Our energy was strong and our optimism was increasing. Our vision was to creatively and locally reach people with the gospel and, in so doing, become a larger church.
You get the picture. We felt this was being missional.
At this time, my wife and I were in deep discussion one night about what our church had become under our leadership. After several hours of painful probing and diagnosis, we both felt deeply convicted by the Holy Spirit, that in his view, we weren’t cutting edge at all, and that when it really came down to it, most of what we were doing was not really missional. Most of our time, money, and resources went toward us.
Around this time I visited Mosaic (church) in Los Angeles, and was moved by the missional paradigm being cast there. I was gripped by reading some challenging missiologists and I started to assess and question my role and priorities as a Senior Pastor.
As a pastor, I had never been on a missions trip—had never visited one of our fields, nor did I have a desire to. So, not surprisingly, our own local church’s missions efforts were neither central nor intrinsic to our vision. Somewhat bothered by all that, I prayed: "Okay Lord, if you want me to go on a missions trip . . . go ahead and take me up on it . . . but you initiate it . . . I won’t.” I distinctly remember feeling something was noted in an unseen realm.
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I would like to go where a least-reached people group exists up in the highest mountain ranges known |
A thought came to me a week later. "Where would you like to go on such a trip?” I mused on it, and decided I would like to go to Asia and experience China, but especially I would like to go where a least-reached people group exists up in the highest mountain ranges known. I had been reading about these people, and had a fascination with their culture, their remoteness, and their exotic version of Buddhism. I told no one about this prayer.
A month later, a district worker was putting together a short-term missions trip to the very region and people group for which I had prayed and he felt I should go. My elders approved, thinking it could only help our church become more global in its focus. So, in the Fall of 2005, I went. And it was there, in the midst of a crowd of this least-reached tribal group, standing outside their great temple for Buddhism, that the living and missional God met me in a most dramatic way.
Standing outside the temple amidst the pilgrims as they walked, chanted and prayed, I also prayed: "Lord speak to me . . . through these people.” Shortly thereafter, a young boy approached me and I saw strangely in his face the features of my own son. He had the same look, eyes and smile. When he offered to pray and do obeisance to the spirits for my tourist money, I was stunned and could not move.
At that moment I was overcome with two powerful sensations. One was the feeling of God’s righteous anger for the idolatry practiced by the thousands who were publicly worshipping the Buddha there that night; and the other was that of the deepest, purest compassion and mercy I have ever experienced—compassion and mercy for the boy, his people, his city, their lost condition, and their desperate need of Christ.
Something deep inside me broke loose. I was wrecked by the compassion and holiness of God. I wept uncontrollably, stunned and broken. I knew in an instant that this place, despite its dark idolatry, was territory where Christ wanted to build his church. I came back home looking at our culture and world with missionary eyes. I didn’t feel like a pastor any more.
During this time, God had also been at work in our people. A pent-up global passion was manifesting in our church and members came to me about the need to do something to lead our church into a true global vision. It was as if my trip experience was like a match struck and thrown into a barrel of gasoline. Missonal passion literally exploded in our church within a few months.
