Have you ever had the experience of sending a gift, only to have it returned? What does it feel like? Somebody’s birthday is coming up – and you’ve found just the perfect gift. You wrap it up, you package it securely, and you trot off to the post office. She’s going to love this!
Three days later your doorbell rings, and you find this soggy, sodden, sorry mess on your step. Your package, your beautiful package, has been returned. The gift you shopped for, spent good money on, wrapped with care and sealed with a kiss – all for naught. Here on the doorstep. Never got to the recipient. How does that make you feel?
Now we are familiar with gifts that are not received quite like we think they ought to be. We can deal with that, but I’m talking about gifts not received at all. Three weeks ago I told you a little story about my taking a book to a friend, a book that I thought would help him wrestle with a problem in his life. I told you I caught a clue when he glanced at it, pitched it over on a shelf, and sort of went on about other things. I can deal with that, and I did deal with it. I told you that a couple of weeks later, when I saw that the gift lay on that shelf unwrapped, not having been moved one inch from where he first put it – I told you how I dealt with that. I took the gift back. I brought the book home. I gave it to somebody else. We can deal with gifts that are received, but not quite. But how does it feel to give a gift, only to have it returned?
We can deal with giving gifts and having them received with a blah! When my brother and I were growing up – and I’m six years older than he is, so I had already been through this – you know you get to that stage when the family stops giving you toys and sporting equipment and good stuff, and they give you things that are good for you? Socks. Pajamas. Underwear. Why should anybody have to get underwear for a birthday gift? I remember the year my brother turned twelve. He opened his first package, looking for a chemistry set. It was a couple of shirts. He managed a weak smile, and put it down, grabbed another package. This one looked like a basketball – hey, that would be neat. It was a globe. Educational stuff. “A globe. Uh-huh.” Soon he discovered that this was the year of trousers, not trains, of books and not bats. But he accepted all the useful stuff; his smile was weak, but he accepted it. He had to. And we were all satisfied. Our gifts had been accepted – with a blah -- but they had been accepted.
But what about a gift that is returned? What about a gift that just didn’t make it to the recipient? How do we feel about that? Not so good.
So I must ask, “Is God sending His church a gift, but it is being returned?” Is it possible that the giver of every good and perfect gift has sent His people at Takoma a gift that has bounced back, soggy and battered, bruised and returned? If so, how does God feel about that? What would the return of one of His great gifts do to the heart of God?
There is something called the apostolic gift. It is the gift of sending. Apostolic means breaking new ground, doing new things, opening new work, extending into uncharted territory. Apostolic means sending somebody out to do something new. I think the sending gift, the apostolic gift, is the greatest of God’s gifts to His church. But it is one that is often misunderstood and therefore is often returned, unopened and unappreciated. So I want to work with you this morning on the gift of sending.
Let me do a little history lesson with you, just as I did last week.
The earliest church was unashamedly apostolic. From Jerusalem the pioneer believers fanned out all across the world they knew, taking the good news to unimaginable places. Not only did Paul roam the Mediterranean coast, on into Greece, and thence to Rome. But Mark went down to Egypt and into northern Africa. Thomas found his way across to India. There were Silas and Barnabas and Philip and all of them, restless, eager, driven out of their comfort zones as the Holy Spirit showed them new horizons, new places to claim for Christ. This early church had received the gift of sending. It was unashamedly apostolic.
But you know, the very success of the sending gift began to take its toll on the Christian church. One after another, new territories came under the sway of Christ, and that’s fine. But after several hundred years of this, the church got settled. It got fat and lazy. It became invested in its own privileges. It began to build an elaborate structure. It got rigid and tight. And most of all, the church began to reject the gift of sending.
Let me tell how that looked. Back in those early days, when Paul or Barnabas or John Mark felt called to missionary work, the whole people of God gathered around and laid hands on them and sent them out. Everybody felt a part of the sending. Everybody got the gift of sending.
But in the church of the Middle Ages, only the priests, the nuns and the monks, were thought to be doing God’s work. Only those who got that special call and that ordination credential were given the gift of sending. Everybody else, the ordinary folks? Well, their task was defined in three little words: pay, pray, and obey. Pay, pray, and obey. Put in the money, say a little prayer, and do what you’re told. Now that, my friends, is a formula for rejecting the gift of sending. If you go that way – that it’s only the clergy who get to go out and break new ground, only the pastors who get to start new things – if you go that way, you are returning God’s apostolic gift. You are destroying the gift of sending.
Because the Word of God says:
The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ.
God is giving the gift of sending .. and all these other gifts .. to equip the saints – that’s you – for the work of ministry and for building up the body of Christ. God is not giving His gifts to a few, but to all of the body of Christ. And the gift of sending, the new ground gift, is ours too.
On the 31st of October, in the year 1517, a young monk, one of that privileged few, strode to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, in the German state of Saxony. With his hammer he nailed to that door a series of propositions, items for debate. Spiritual declarations. Among these were statements that called for a rediscovery of grace as the way to salvation. Among these were statements that proclaimed the Scriptures alone as the authentic word of God. And among these 95 theses were some that insisted that every believer was called and sent by God into the world. That was revolutionary! And when Martin Luther took that to the church of his day, they didn’t want to hear it! The very idea that the common person might read the Word of God for himself – blasphemous! And that ordinary folks might consecrate the bread and wine at the Lord’s Table – incredible! That the peasant at his plow, the lawyer in the courtroom, the soldier at his guardpost, and the hausfrau in her kitchen – that all these were called and sent by God, just as much as the priest and the nun – that was offensive! That was rejected! That could not be!
But, thanks be to God, thanks to Martin Luther and the other 16th Century Reformers, you and I today know that we are gifted by God, and that we are given the gift of sending. Every one of us can break new ground, go to new places, start new things, dream new dreams, for the Kingdom. We can be apostles. We sang it a moment ago, in Luther’s matchless hymn, “The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him who with us sideth.” One historian says that the blows of Luther’s hammer were heard throughout all Christendom and have not stopped yet!
So I want to work with this idea of a gift returned. Why would anyone return a gift? Why do gifts come back, and why would God’s gift of sending be returned unopened?
I
Sometimes gifts are returned because the giver got the address wrong. Have you ever had that happen? You got it your package together, you sent it out, but you wrote one little digit wrong on the zip code. And since a lot of the mail is untouched by human hands, and is read by machine, of course the machine sent it to the wrong place. You intended for the gift to be received, but you got the address wrong.
That can happen even in the era of e-mail. I was trying to send a communication to a bunch of church members this week, and I forgot to separate their addresses in my browser. Well, the Powells’ e-mail got all bunched up with the Stephens’ e-mail, and the Morrises’ got muddled with the Flowers, and all of it was rejected and returned. One little keystroke, but it all came back! I intended for the gift to be received, but I got the address wrong.
I remember that in my home church there was a member who was a doctor, and you know about their handwriting. Well, Dr. Luhr sent a package to our church’s youth minister. Except that it went back to the doctor. The address of our church was “Deer Park Baptist Church, Bardstown Road at Maryland Avenue, Louisville, KY.” Dr. Luhr’s scribble looked something like “Deer Park Bpp Ch, Bdstn Maryland, Louky.” The post office sent it to a town in Maryland named Deer Park. The gift was returned because the sender got the address wrong.
Do you think God has our address wrong? Can it be that we are returning the gift of sending because God doesn’t quite know where we are? Is it possible that God has made a mistake about us?
Maybe God thought we were a church, but we’re not, we’re just a Christian country club? Is that possible? God thought He called us to be the body of Christ, but we aren’t, we’re just a spiritual social club? Well, let’s test that. If we’re a church, our people are contributors; but if we’re a club, they are consumers. If we’re a church, we come here for equipping; if we’re a club, we come here for entertainment. If we’re a church, the pastor is a catalyst, making things happen; but if we’re a club, the pastor is a chaplain, holding hands and sipping tea with the saints. If we’re a church, we’re out to shape the world; but if we’re a club, we’re here to seek shelter from the world. If we’re a church, we go into all the world; if we’re a club, we tell the world, you can come to us, when you get cleaned up.
Did God make a mistake? Does He have the right address? If the address is wrong, the gift of sending may be returned. We don’t want it if we’re a club. Clubs don’t go out and break new ground and reach new people; clubs decide who stays out, more than how to get people in.
I wonder if we are returning God’s sending gift because new ideas take our breath away. I wonder if we’re returning God’s sending gift because new ministries cost too much, and new frontiers seem scary. I wonder if we are returning God’s sending gift because the sender got the address wrong, and we’re not a church, but a club. Gifts are returned because the sender got the address wrong.
II
But there’s another reason a gift might be returned. Sometimes you give a gift, and you get it to the right place, but something is wrong with the gift. It’s the wrong size, or the wrong color, or the wrong brand. Sometimes gifts have to be returned because the giver didn’t understand the recipient. Sometimes gifts have to be taken back to the source because someone along the way didn’t get it right.
Now, you know, some folks can give gifts and some can’t. I am one of those who cannot. I envy those who can find just the perfect thingy for that special place in someone’s home. I am jealous of those who can hunt up just the right garment, in just the right color. As for me, well, I’ve been married 38 years, and I still can’t get her sizes right. I get the shoe size mixed up with the dress size; I get the slacks too long and the sleeves too short. In 38 years of married life, I have spent far too much time in post-Christmas return lines. I probably never will learn – but I have learned one thing: if you have to guess, guess on the small side.
Sometimes gifts are returned because the giver didn’t understand the recipient. Do you suppose God doesn’t understand what we need? Do you suppose God hasn’t figured out Takoma Park Baptist Church just yet? And He can’t tailor our gifts to our needs? Is that possible? I mean, how come God would pull together a church full of quiet, introverted people, and then plunk them down in the middle of Washington, DC, with all of its trials and tribulations, and tell us, “This is yours!”? How can that be? Come on, Lord, You’ve made a mistake. This is not our size. Give us a nice, neat, manageable parish. Give us one square mile of middle class vanilla-flavored card-carrying bland folks, and we can handle that. That’s our style. But God put us down where there are the down and out and the up and out – where there are colleges and hospitals, nursing homes and schools – and where there are broken families, addicted bodies, and neglected children. Oh, no, Lord, this is not our cup of tea. We’re going to have to return this sending gift. You didn’t mean to send us here, did you, Lord? Sometimes gifts are returned because the giver didn’t understand the recipient. Is that possible?
Did you hear the story about the little old lady whose three sons got her gifts on her 100th birthday? Her sons wanted to please their mother on this special day, so one son said, “Mom loves to read; I’ll buy her the latest, most popular best-selling book. She’ll love that.” The second son said, “Mom loves candy; I’ll buy her the biggest, juiciest, chocolatiest box of sweets on the market. She’ll enjoy that.” And the third son said, “Mom is so spiritual. She loves the Bible. I know where I can get a trained parrot. They’ve spent a year teaching this parrot the entire Bible. All you have to do is tell the parrot the reference, chapter and verse, and this parrot can quote the Scripture. It’s expensive, but nothing is too good for my Mom. I’ll send her the Bible-quoting parrot.” A few days later, Mom’s boys all gathered and asked her about the gifts. “Well, I’ll tell you, Son, my eyes aren’t so good any more. So I sent the book back to the bookstore. And your candy, Son, it was a lovely thought, but I really don’t have any teeth any more, so I sent the candy back to the sweet shop. But, I tell you what, my youngest son, mmm, that chicken was so tasty.”
It’s not just that the giver doesn’t understand the recipient; it is that the recipient doesn’t know what he has, and thus kills the gift without ever using it. God understands us; God knows what we are like. But do we understand what He is giving us when He sends us into this community? Or are we about to kill the gift because we don’t understand the gift or the giver?
III
I just want you today to dream with me about this gift of sending. And it is a gift. I hope you feel that. It is a privilege to send something to others. As God sends us His gifts of oneness and holiness and universality, so God also sends us the gift of sending, the apostolic gift. God permits us the privilege of breaking new ground for Him. I want you to dream with me about that. I want you to do something they won’t let you do in Kindergarten! I want you to color outside the lines.
I do dream of a church that sends people from these walls to these streets, a church that looks for the lost, the least, the last, and the lonely. A church that takes the time to listen to the heart-cry of humanity, so that it won’t send the wrong gift. A church that cares enough about children and youth to listen to what is going on in their minds. A church that hurts when families hurt, and binds up the broken-hearted. A church that picks up the fallen, heals the wounded, and just knows instinctively who needs help. Contrary to what some have told me, I believe that there are enough needs in this very community to keep us busy night and day every day of the week. And that’s without going any farther than some of your daily exercise walks. I dream of sending somebody from within these walls to these mean streets.
I dream of a church that is praying for somebody to be sent into missions work. I’ve had this on my mind for a long time now. Somebody told me, “You’re going to have to shut that prayer down, because nobody is going to give up their creature comforts to go halfway around the world to share the gospel.” Well, I don’t know about that. I only know that the sending gift the Lord spoke of said, “Go into all the world” and not “Sit here on this side.” And so I am going to continue to dream and to pray that somebody who is up in that balcony this morning will ten years from now be in Africa, China, Brazil, somewhere exercising the gift of sending. I may not be here to see it; but that’s all right. God doesn’t operate on my timetable. I just dream of a church that receives the gift of sending out its youth.
I dream of a church that is so enraptured by the sending gift that instead of asking, “How much do we have to give to missions?” will ask, “What else can we do for the Kingdom? Where else can we send some money? Where can we put our hands to the plow and not look back?” I dream of a church that is obedient to the call for sending, and does not count the cost! I dream of a church that is like Christ, setting His face to go to the cross. I dream of a church that wants to win the lost, whatever the cost.
The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles … to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ.
One night, in Chicago, a young executive was proudly piloting his new, sleek, shiny black Jaguar XKE through the streets. He was so proud of the way he looked. He just knew everybody on the street was envious. And he enjoyed that. All of a sudden, from nowhere, there was a thud on the passenger-side door. He slammed on the brakes, threw the car into reverse, and backed up to the spot where it happened. On the street, he saw a brick; and on the curb, a teenage boy. The young executive sprung into action. He grabbed that boy by the collar and shoved him up against a wall; spitting out obscenities, he began to pummel that boy. “Wait, mister, wait.” The boy was trying to explain. “Wait”. My brother is hurt, and it was the only way I could get anybody to stop. He pointed down to a crumpled heap at the curbside, where a child was spilling out of a wheelchair, bleeding and unable to walk. To this day, in Chicago, there is a new, sleek, shiny black Jaguar XKE with a dent in its door and a crude brick mounted on its dashboard, left there by its owner as a reminder that God sends us a heavy gift to get our attention. Else we return the gift we’ve been given.
Set our feet on lofty places, gird our lives that they may be armored with all Christ like graces in the fight to set men free. Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, That we fail not man nor Thee!
And that we not return unwrapped, misdirected, or misunderstood, the gift of sending.
