Though You Are Small

"But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times."

Micah 5:2

The mission of God is so vitally important to churches. When a church veers off the path of hearing and doing, the result is aimless wandering, which results in death in the desert. As a young church planter, I knew this intuitively. Our whole church could fit in a large closet, and we were dirt road poor, but if I had anything to do with it, we would stay on mission. Our mission explained in one word is, "others." I had read an account years before of Salvation Army founder General William Booth, a man whose faithfulness and character I wished to emulate. On Christmas Eve in 1910, the General was ill and within months of his death. His weakened state had prevented him from attending the Army's annual convention. Booth decided to send a telegram greeting instead of going himself, to encourage his "troops" who had labored so tirelessly through the winter cold. As usual, the Army had limited funds, and lengthy telegrams cost more. General Booth thought back through the years to craft a one-word message so that the monies they did have could continue helping the needy.

As the many delegates to the convention gathered, the convention's moderator stood to bring greetings from their beloved leader. The message was on a small slip of paper. It read: "Others!"

Though we were small, our mission was others! I had preached from Micah 5:2 in the morning service on Christmas Eve. That night we gathered to deliver help and Christmas cheer to an elderly couple caring for their ten grandchildren. The children's parents died in a tragic automobile accident. Our small band collected money, food, toys, clothes, and shoes as these were the items that our local social services person had suggested. A remarkable thing in those days was that when we did something, everyone in the church attended. No one thought, "this isn't for me" or "they don't need me." We met at our rented community building, loaded our three vehicles' trunks with our store, and headed out to an isolated rural home. It was a throwback to many older houses I had seen in South Carolina during my boyhood. The house stood with a high profile in a swept yard under two massive oak trees' shelter. Its wooden steps lead up to a wrap-around porch. At one time, it had been considered a lovely house. Now it was showing its age, just like those who lived there. I knocked on its door, opened by an older man who turned to call his wife. They both welcomed us in, but with the late hour and our need to unload, I thanked them and said, "we would love to, but it is after eight and very cold, so if it is all right, we will unload and have a prayer with you. The couple consented and said that we could bring our gifts in and set them "here" on the floor. The front door had opened into the center hall where the heater stood. Even devoid of furnishings, which was an essential room in a house like that. I knew because I had spent many days lying in front of a heater during the holidays looking at the Sears Christmas catalog.

 Looking into that space also revealed numerous doors leading to a kitchen and all the house's bedrooms.  We first brought in the groceries, which the grandparents quickly helped us carry to the kitchen table and cabinets. Next, we moved in the toys stacking them together on the floor. One of the most unusual things about our Christmas Eve visit was that they had ten children, and we had not heard a peep from them. Nor had we seen any of them. At the same time, I had the notion that every visible doorknob probably had a little hand wrapped around it on the door's opposite side. The lady at our County Social Services Department had told us that the children needed clothing and shoes more than anything else, so we went all out to meet that need. Our small team of "elves" started carrying the boxes of clothes and putting the shoes nearby on the floor. Most of the time, they would carry things up the stairs and then hand them to me as I stood at the door of the house. It was so cold that I kept the door closed as much as possible. I remember putting a couple of pairs of shoes down on the floor, but when I went back in with the next load, they had disappeared. The same thing happened when I came back the next time, so I laid several pairs out and returned to the porch. This time though, I cracked the door so that I could quietly watch the shoes. As soon as I left the room, I watched several doors open at once, and as quickly and quietly as mice, the shoes exited the room being carried by children who had the biggest smiles on their faces. I motioned for the others to join me at the door as we unloaded the remainder of the shoes so they could watch those doors open and our gifts disappear. I cried a little that night for Joe and Margaret and those ten children who needed shoes more than they wanted toys. We prayed and wiped tears with the grandparents before we drove back to our homes. The tender memories of this night in the late seventies are with me today, and I hope they will always remain.

It is so vital that no matter the size, you and your church remain on the mission of God. "Don't look down on small beginnings," and don't quit because of weakness or tiredness. Stopping will lead to fear and malaise, and faithless behavior. Death haunts the desert places of disobedience.  Though, as a church, we were small, on that night, we were not insignificant. We had started living for others, and over the years, our church grew with the others who helped reach still others. Our church grew because as our hearts grew, God filled them with many gifts of His tender mercies and grace. My wife and I, along with our church of ten people, will never forget the magic doors in that house, which opened to show us how we could make a difference in our corner of the world!  

 The Hidden Treasures of Church Planting

At heart, I suppose I am and will always be a church planter. New converts and freshly minted churches are the lifeblood of our faith. I planted my first church in 1976 because that was what my hands found to do for Jesus. In subsequent years, I became more invested in this calling. Planting churches can be hard obedience. It will stretch your faith to the point of breaking while at the same time working spiritual muscles that few other things can or will. I would compare it at times to running backward! (Don't try either alone) I consider those days of "small beginnings" as the most formative and productive in a ministry that has spanned over forty-six years. In ancient crop-growing language, I saw things increase by thirty, sixty, and a hundred-fold. I learned lessons of commitment, faith, and God's unfailing love that I could never know in any other way. Now, so many years later, my wife and I are worshiping with a ridiculously young and talented group of twenty and thirty-somethings in a new church plant. I pray they will have the same experience of blessing.

I am sure you know that church planting is not only a spiritual self-improvement activity. Even with all its benefits, it has to be more than that. It is an irreplaceable building block in the work of God for the world. Martin Luther said, "Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree." We must have the same attitude for church planting because, as Warren Buffett says, "Someone's sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago."

God is everywhere, but in some places, He is greater. Every newly planted church becomes a place where heaven meets earth, and it is at the Father's footstool we worship. There is no better place to be or experience to have. There is no better way to define church planting than with the words accompanying: go, others, and presence.

 I grew up singing, "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go, Dear Lord," so I arrived at the mission of Pentecost quite naturally. In a culture seemingly enthralled with adventure, "go" seems an enjoyable command to hear, and it is except for different reasons. "Adventure" is about collecting pleasurable experiences and pleasant memories in an invisible bucket so that you won't miss a thing in life. Mission is about having been found by someone who heard "go" and refused to say "no." It is also about never forgetting so that you keep going to tell one more person about God. My wife tried on winter boots while shopping with my family in Williston, Vermont. A sales lady spotted me perched in a chair nearby. Looking me in the eyes, she asked, "Are you on a mission or just looking?" "Just looking," I replied as I pointed to my wife, "but that lady over there is serious." Congregation planting is serious work. Full of adventure, yes, but so is tackling a 250-pound hog. A word of experience, don't try that, it's not fun! It is serious because starting new churches means going deeper into the Devil's Den. Warning! It would be best if you didn't go unless you are ready to leave some things behind.

Jesus commanded those he sent out to travel lightly, carrying neither "a purse, bag, or sandals."  Luke 10:3-4 Go and make the going to others of the utmost importance. The more baggage, the more care, the more care, the less we share with those for whom we travel. General William Booth, the Salvation Army founder, had his life's motto the one word, "others." It was the word on his lips when he addressed the worldwide Army gathering for the last time by telegram, and it left a profound impact on his followers and their disciples. For years, the church of Jesus has concentrated on the same 40% of the population already connected. But God is sending us to others who are "hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places." Isaiah 45:3  If we go to these "others," the Lord will give them to us.

As a church planter, I realized the poor worked the fields' edges to glean something left to eat after harvest. Likewise, the assemblies we need to plant are in "the ghettos of Lo-debar," where outsiders reside and where there is no pasture, no word, or communication. 2 Samuel 9:4 There is a Mephibosheth there who has an appointment made by mercy to dine with the King. Saul's grandson had come from a privileged background, but he lived broken and in shame on the other side of the tracks. Mephibosheth was shown mercy because of David's love for his father, Jonathan. Others will experience grace and mercy because of our love for Jesus as we go.

Being other-minded will facilitate others' inclusion into the life-giving benefits of covenant community; seeks to find a path, build a bridge, or open the door to those frequently left out of the spiritual community for any reason.

 To go to others invites the presence of the Lord in some unexpected ways. The Psalmist, whose priority was the presence of God in worship, said, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Ps. 34:18  In thinking of the presence of God, most Christians focus on large crowds, powerful praise, and Spirit-empowered preaching. But the Psalmist gives us an upside view of where God resides in saving power; he is near to those who are broken and crushed, those others who can't check the boxes marked: saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Spirit. I can recall numerous times through the years when I sat at my desk or in my car alone and wept at the goodness of God shown in the lives of broken and hurting persons. Those were Holy moments where God seemed to say to the spiritual Hagars of life, "I see you," and because I was standing close enough, I felt his gaze and touch. Doing "Church" can get old, but the nail-pierced hands of Jesus never!

Perhaps Charles Studd understood that proximity to the broken and lost is the means to divine presence when he said, "Some wish to live within the sound of a chapel bell; I want to run a rescue shop within a yard of Hell." Grasping this truth will revolutionize our evangelism and discipleship efforts. Many seek His presence by shutting everything else out and shutting themselves alone with God, but for Jesus, those were only pitstops as he ran to the broken and lost. His glory is not found beneath a spire or shut up in a closet; in redeemed man, we best see His goodness, mercy, and compassion.

Go! In doing so, you will find others who will allow you to embrace God's presence in ways not possible alone.