The Entropic State of Missions Part 1

For many years I have observed and assumed that the necessary trajectory of every established church was continual growth through the addition of members, because that is what every church is striving for. It has been implanted in me that to measure the validity of a church was to measure largely by how it increased, and everyone scurries about advertise its success by a display of its numbers. Yet with time I have come to see that such thinking owes more to corrupted assumptions than to the plain testimony of Scripture.

We have sought to modernize the ark, adorning it with many colors, surrounding it with ornaments, spotlights, and glimmering displays, all in the hope of making it more attractive unto men. Yet in so doing, we have often mistaken embellishment for power. For the power never resided in the decorations surrounding it, but in the presence of God to which it pointed. And so it remains today. The more we trust in human enhancements to accomplish spiritual ends, the more we reveal our dissatisfaction with the sufficiency of God's own appointed means. In striving to improve what God hath established, we often succeed only in obscuring it. The further we stray from the original pattern, the less we remain under the influence of its power.

A missionary brother laboring in South America recently related to me a recurring pattern he had observed firsthand. Missionaries arriving from the United States under the banner of a well-known missionary society would enter into an already established church, though one in which neither the pastor nor the congregation possessed a clear understanding of the Gospel. They were readily welcomed and entrusted with considerable influence, being given, as it were, the keys to the church. From there they would furnish the pastor with books, instruct him in the Five Solas and the system of Reformed Theology, and spend a season teaching these same doctrines unto the congregation. After some time, once the church had become established in these theological distinctives, they would depart for another location and report the work as a success. 

I have repeatedly seen the likes of this myself here. Such accounts have often caused me to reflect upon what, precisely, we mean when we speak of a church being established. Is it a church with elders, pastors, deacons, members, and church discipline? Is it one that adheres to creeds? Is it inside a constructed building with air-conditioning? Is it one with a social media account? Is it a regenerated church? Is it a repenting church? Has it seen a greater vision of Christ's beauty enough to fuel a desire to make Him known to people outside the fold? Has it counted such a terrible cost? It is one thing to impart doctrinal knowledge, and quite another to see the actual congregation brought unto an experiential faith in Christ.

Here in the Philippines, foreign speakers are received with a distinction bordering upon royalty. Because they come from the United States or other Western nations, it is assumed that they must necessarily possess greater wisdom, deeper understanding, and superior insight. Our role, as locals, is simply to sit, listen, and learn. Thereafter, efforts are made to incorporate western mindset into the Filipino setting, adopting their methods and assumptions as though they were universally applicable. What hath succeeded in one culture is presumed suitable for all cultures, and foreign approaches are often embraced with little consideration for the distinct realities of the local people.

Underlying this spiritual crutch is a subtle and unfortunate inferiority of spirit. We have, in many respects, been conditioned to believe that spiritual understanding is chiefly imported from abroad, as though the Scriptures available to us were somehow less sufficient than those possessed by others. We behave as though God speaks more clearly to foreign voices, while we ourselves exist merely to receive what they have already discovered. In the West, it is not uncommon for a preacher to receive a curse word or public insult and immediately publish it abroad on social media as persecution for the Gospel. Yet in other corners of the world, far removed from cameras and public attention, there are believers who suffer losses far greater. In remote villages and forgotten places, families who bear the same name of Christ endure violence, displacement, imprisonment, and even butchered for the faith they profess. Of course, such realities ought not to lead us into a contest of suffering, but they should compel us to examine our assumptions. For there is a vast difference between speaking of persecution and enduring it; between discussing the cost of discipleship and paying it.

We must ask: whose faith is being exercised most experientially? The one whose convictions are tested by inconvenience and criticism, or the one who must cling to Christ when the cost is measured in blood and loss? It is often in the furnace of affliction that faith ceases to be a matter of theory and becomes a living, daily dependence upon God. Faith is not proven chiefly in what it knows, but in what it endures while holding fast to Christ.

Let us consider for a moment several figures from Holy Scripture who, by many modern standards, would likely fail to acquire—or retain—a single sponsor, much less a membership roll.

~Noah would hardly be regarded as a candidate for a successful missionary model. For one hundred and twenty years he proclaimed righteousness to a generation rushing headlong toward judgment, yet the only ones who entered the ark with him were members of his own household. By contemporary metrics, the report would appear dismal: no movement, no growth, no measurable success. 

~Jeremiah likewise would fare little better. His ministry was marked by rejection, opposition, loneliness, and sorrow. His message ran contrary to the spirit of his age, and his faithfulness earned him few admirers and many enemies. One can scarcely imagine his field reports satisfying those who measure fruit solely by visible results.

~And then there is our Lord Himself. Judged by the standards of numerical growth and public appeal, He would appear to have presided over the fastest shrinking congregation in history. As His teaching became more searching and His demands more costly, many who once followed Him turned back and walked with Him no more. At last, in the hour of His greatest trial, even those who had most confidently professed their loyalty forsook Him and fled.

By the standards commonly employed today, such ministries would almost certainly be judged failures, their methods, obviously wrong. No missionary society would eagerly support a laborer unable to produce impressive numbers, measurable growth, or visible results. Reports containing decades of rejection, shrinking crowds, and apparent fruitlessness would scarcely inspire confidence among those who have learned to equate success with statistics. Yet God's servants have never been called to produce numbers, but to proclaim His truth faithfully.

Yet herein lies the lesson. Faithfulness and fruitfulness are not always measured by numbers, popularity, or visible success. Noah was faithful. Jeremiah was faithful. Christ was faithful. And when all earthly support seemed removed, each stood sustained by the same reality: God Himself.

Every true Christian is, in some measure, a missionary, for every believer hath been entrusted with the duty of bearing witness unto Christ. Yet among those who profess this calling, there often appears a great divide. There are those who simply obey the mandate as it hath been given, and there are those who seek to reshape the mandate according to what seems most practical, effective, or agreeable unto themselves. Faith doth not wait upon results before it obeys. To act only after success hath become visible requires no faith at all. True faith believeth God before the evidence appears. It trusts His Word when the field seems barren, when the labor seems fruitless, and when no visible return answers the effort expended. It continues to labor, to sow, and, like Noah of old, to keep building the ark even without water.

For God's promise is not that every labor shall yield immediate and measurable results, but that He Himself shall do what is right (Genesis 18:25). The Judge of all the earth shall act justly. The Lord of the harvest shall not forget the labor performed in His Name. And the laborer is worthy of his hire (Luke 10:7). If one truly believeth these things, then it is enough. Faithfulness requires no further guarantee. 

The servant's duty is obedience; obedience to what? The Gospel must be preached outside by praying men to all peoples. The outcome remains in the hands of God.

The God who taught the saints of former generations through His Word remains the same God who instructs His people today in every part of this earth. The Scriptures are no less powerful in our hands than they were in the hands of any preacher, theologian, or missionary who hath gone before us. God is not the peculiar possession of one nation, nor is wisdom confined to a particular language, culture, or people. God is free to be worshipped in any cloth, for He was never tailor-made. The Lord hath never dealt with His church as though some were masters and others perpetual beggars. Rather, all alike stand as needy recipients of grace, drawing from the same fountain of truth and serving under the same sovereign King.