The last time I attended a General Conference Session — in Toronto — I was serving as a local pastor. That calling still lives in me, but my role has since expanded: I now serve in a broader administrative capacity, guiding ministries across a region rather than shepherding a single congregation.
Years later, in St. Louis at our most recent GC Session, something stirred in my spirit again. As I listened to evangelistic reports from around the world, I was deeply moved — not merely by the stories themselves, but by the spirit that animated them. The presenters weren’t just recounting data or accomplishments; they radiated joy. Their voices bore the unmistakable tone of people swept up in a mission far greater than themselves.
During those moments, I was reminded of something I hadn’t fully grasped in a while: mission is a gift. Not merely a task we perform for God, but a grace He extends to us. We are invited — welcomed — into His redemptive work. In that participation, we are transformed in a personal way.
That realization shifted something in me. Mission stopped feeling like a command to obey — “Go ye into all the world …” — it began to feel like a sacred invitation, a chance to join the Creator in His ongoing restoration of all things. Gratitude replaced duty.
This truth is deeply rooted in what I believe to be the very nature of the God I’ve come to know — self-giving, relational and eternally generous. The Trinity — Father, Son and Holy Spirit — exists in a perpetual dance of love, continually extending grace outward.
As I sat day after day, listening and reflecting, a realization began to take shape in my mind: Mission is not merely a task or strategy; it's the natural overflow of divine love into creation. It's God’s desire to share that love, to draw all of creation into communion with Himself. This, I’ve come to see, is the ultimate impetus for mission.
The Incarnation is the clearest expression of this gift. God didn’t send a distant emissary — He came Himself. He entered our story, walked our roads, wept our tears and bore our burdens. Jesus didn’t come to command us; He came to serve us and to give Himself for us.
Here’s the liberating truth: We are not the architects of mission. We are co-laborers with God. That shift frees us — from the pressure to perform, from the anxiety of outcomes. We are called to be faithful, not fearful, and obedient, not necessarily “successful” as the world might see success.
The parable of the sower speaks to this beautifully. The sower scatters seed — not knowing which soil will yield a harvest. His task is not to control the growth, but to sow generously. The mystery of growth belongs to God.
So, we sow. We speak. We serve. We trust. In doing so, we discover that mission is not just something we do — it’s something that does something to us. It transforms us. It draws us deeper into the heart of God. Before He sends us out, He first draws us in. We are welcomed into His life, His love and His communion. It's from that sacred intimacy that we are sent forth, not as performers of a task, but as bearers of divine love.
As I departed St. Louis by plane for home, I felt humbled. To see mission not as an obligation but as a gift had awakened in me a deeper humility and a renewed sense of gratitude. It reminded me that we are not chosen because we are worthy — we are chosen because God is gracious. He does not ask us to accomplish what lies beyond our reach; He invites us to participate in what He alone is capable of doing through us.
Hence, I now see the greater need for dependence and trust in Him — a recognition that made me much more aware of my need to lean totally on God’s strength and return all glory to Him. Mission, then, is not merely a summons to action; it's a summons to worship. It's a call to live in awe of the magnitude of God’s love and the wonder of His invitation.
After landing back in Seattle, bags in hand and the road behind me, I found myself reflecting again. What once felt like duty now revealed itself as delight. I now see mission as a privilege to cherish. The most extraordinary gift one could ever receive.
