On this last Sunday of the Easter
season, as we end our series examining post-resurrection appearances, we
consider an account from the Gospel According to Matthew for the first time.
Today’s text opens with the disciples no longer in Jerusalem—the center of
religious power and activity—but instead back in Galilee—where Jesus began his
ministry. The disciples have come
to the mountain—perhaps the very mountain where Jesus preached his Sermon on
the Mount. It is just the 11 disciples here—not the larger group of Jesus’
followers. It is here that they
encounter the risen Christ for the 1st and last time in Matthew’s
gospel. Just as the women who went
to the tomb early Easter morning worshiped the risen Jesus when they first saw
him, so too do the disciples worship the risen Jesus here on the mountain. Yet,
some of them are hesitant—disoriented and overwhelmed by seeing this one they
knew was dead, by experiencing this one they thought was gone. Coming near to them, Jesus bridges the
gap forged between them when they abandoned him and left him to face the cross
alone. Speaking to them, he reconciles and restores their broken relationship. Claiming all authority in heaven and on
earth, Jesus commissions his disciples to disciple others—all others— men and women, young and
old, people from cities and country folk, other Jews and
Gentiles—all others. With a final
promise of his continued presence—day by day by day—throughout their lives and
even to the end of the ages, Jesus commissions his disciples for their life’s
work—discipling others.
“Go
and make disciples”[1]—discipling
others seems to be twofold—baptizing and teaching. From the order Matthew employs, baptizing comes first. The early church used baptism to mark
the end of a year of instruction for converts and the beginning of full
participation in the faith community, but in Matthew’s gospel, baptism comes
first. In our practice, it
certainly comes first for those who are baptized as infants—those whose parents
claim the promise of God’s grace for their children before they’re old enough
to claim it for themselves. At
every baptism—whether baptizing an infant, child, youth, or adult—at every
baptism, we Presbyterians promise to nurture the person being baptized, to help
them grow in their faith. We
promise to guide them into full and meaningful participation in the faith
community. As a sacrament, baptism is a means of grace—drawing us closer to
Christ. Through the visible sign of water—cleansing water, life-giving water,
renewing water—we are reminded of the invisible grace—God claiming us as one of
God’s own people, Jesus claiming us as brother or sister, and the Holy Spirit
helping us to live out this new identity.
The vow we—the congregation— make at every baptism is to teach our
faith.
Go
and make disciples: Discipling is
twofold—baptizing and teaching.
Good teachers are life-long learners—seeking to grow in their own
knowledge and skills and in the case of teaching the faith, to grow in their
own faith. So, discipling is a
life-long process. I see that here
in our mid-week Bible study. None
of the group—Janis, Greta, Harold, Ken, Colleen, Hazel, Jim, and Marlene—are
new to the faith. All of them have
been reading and studying the Bible for years. Yet they still come together
each Wednesday morning eager to learn—to learn more about the context, the
authors, and the purposes of the pieces of literature within the Bible, eager
to examine the biblical themes of
love and grace, covenant and redemption, justice and mercy—themes that reveal
God to us, and eager to learn more from one another. Weekly, this group encourages me in the continuing learning
faith development process. As we
develop in our faith, as we go through different stages in our life, as we
mature, we make new connections with the Bible, we see new ways the Word of God
can teach us and help us live our lives.
Good
teachers not only tell, but they also show their students—as the children and I
discussed earlier today. Good
learners not only listen, but they also practice. I have the good fortune to be nearby during Gail’s piano
lessons. Some of the time she is
talking to the students—telling them how to play the pieces. But most of the time the student is
actually playing, and Gail is guiding their practice. Often I hear her reminding the student to continue practice
at home. And Gail—accomplished as she is—continues to practice herself. She practices for each worship
service. I’ve visited Karl
Schmidt’s classroom. While he has
a board for writing chemical formulas and a projector to list properties of
elements, he also has beakers and burners for the students to physically try
out the concepts they are learning.
Karl’s students not only read and listen and watch, they also do. Annie Kessler earned a soccer
scholarship to college—not because she studied the game of soccer and played
really well one time, but because she practiced the moves and played the game
over and over and over again—because she continues to study and practice.
We
study our faith through examining the biblical story, and we practice our
faith—daily. We offer a kind word
to the harried store clerk—we engage.
We invite the new folks in the neighborhood into our home for a meal—we
welcome. We share lunch and
conversation with our co-workers—we care. We bring food for the PACA food
bank. We feed. We visit people who are isolated from
others. We connect. Our youth group did that last
Sunday—leading worship at Country Club Estates and Vintage Park. At Country Club Estates one woman said,
“Thank you for bringing young people and men.” After worship at Vintage Park, we visited Genia Wilson in
her room. Showing love for others—practicing—we grow in our faith.
Go
and make disciples of all peoples.
It seems a little overwhelming, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s how the disciples felt—overwhelmed. Maybe it’s how Jesus felt, too. After all, there he was “on an unnamed
mountain in backwater Galilee with a congregation of eleven, down from twelve
the week before, and even some of them are doubtful and not so sure why they
have come to worship this day.”[2] A small group, wondering why they’re
there, hesitant to step out into the unfamiliar, doubtful they can even make a
difference—does that sound familiar? Can you imagine their initial
responses? Jesus always did the
teaching—not us. Where do we
start? What exactly do we do? Does that sound familiar?
As
underwhelming as his group may appear and as overwhelming as the task may have
seemed, according to Matthew, Jesus claims God’s authority. He commissions his disciples to invite
others into the community he has been forming these last 3 years. And look at
what has happened in the intervening 2100 years. Christ’s community of disciples has grown in number and
spread out across the world.
Generation after generation of new learners have joined those already in
the community—other learners at different stages of faith development. Jesus commissions us—yes, us, as inadequate as we might feel—to go and make
disciples—to invite others into our community of faith. Jesus commissions us to show others
what living a life of faith looks like. It’s awkward at first, as we practice, we become more comfortable inviting,
sharing, teaching. Recognizing
the enormity of this invitation, we rely, not on ourselves but on the power of
the God who sent his Son to disciple the first learners, and on the continued
presence of Jesus the Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.
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