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Recently I have attended midweek worship and Bible
studies at a nearby organization in Afton, Virginia dedicated to supporting
Christian outreach missions worldwide. Named Advancing Native Missions (ANM),
I have learned their work, although not indigenous to any specific mainline Christian
denomination, supports evangelistic efforts of countless groups around the
globe whose principal motive is to make Christ known. In a monograph which he
entitled Thine Is the Kingdom, Dr. James
S. Stewart, outlined what he termed the Basic
Motive
for Christian missions. He begins with our Lord’s Commission: ‘Go ye and teach all nations’ as our
missionary charter. Then he asks,
‘suppose mutilation of the papyrus roll containing Matthew 28:19-20 had
deprived us of the great commission, would the missionary challenge have been
in doubt? “Surely not!”, he writes, “For
it is no single injunction that has given the Church its marching-orders. The
imperative is there, staring at us on
every page of the Gospels, implicit in every word Jesus ever spoke, sealed
forever by His death and resurrection:
‘the expiation’ cries John, ‘for our sins, and not for ours only but for
the whole world!....In the last resort,
the one reason for missions is Christ. He
only is the motive, God’s presence in Him the one sufficient cause....
The fact is, belief in missions and belief in Christ stand and fall together....Thus
it can never be the province of a few enthusiasts, a sideline or specialty of
those who happen to have a bent that way.
It is the distinctive mark of being a Christian. To accept Christ is
to enlist under a
missionary banner. It is quite
impossible to be (in the Pauline phrase) ‘in Christ’ and not participate in
Christ’s mission in the world.”
My worship times with the ANM fellowship have been reminders
of the koinonia of the early
Church proclaiming the joyous Good News and victory of knowing Christ.
I have
been reading the closing chapters of Acts and Paul’s final farewell to the
saints in Ephesus. He closes his
valediction with them by commending them to God’s grace. Once more,
I call upon Dr. James S.
Stewart’s exposition:
“Here is a
gospel that shatters all human pretensions, and shames us for feeling better
than other people—a gospel that says ‘You can’t earn a citizenship in Zion, not
ever! You can’t ever merit
salvation. Take it for nothing, or not
at all! That is grace – God’s initiative
in Christ, offered freely to the undeserving....When David Livingstone was
found dead on his knees in Central Africa, his diary was open before him, and
the last entry was, ‘My Jesus, my Savior,
my life, my all, anew I dedicate myself to Thee.’
New discoveries and dedications right on to
the end! There is no room in Christianity
for arrested development of the soul which thinks it has found everything and
settles down content in spiritual rigidity and petrification. He is able to
keep on building you up, from
strength to strength, from character to character, from glory to glory – until
at last his new creation is complete.”
From King Forever, James S. Stewart 
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Traveling
the world as a Peace Corps diplomat, I often mailed postcards from these far away places with strange sounding names.
When I could think of nothing of interest to the recipient, I simply quoted Tennyson's lines that I had memorized while in
school. I came to realize that Tennyson's poem had defined a large segment of my life. Here is an excerpt:
“All times I have enjoyed Greatly, have
suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and ... I
am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and
known—cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not
least, but honored of them all,— I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all
experience is an arch where through Gleams that untraveled world whose margin
fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an
end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life!
Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains; but
every hour is saved From that eternal silence, Something more, A bringer of new
things; And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a
sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine
own Telemachus, To whom I leave the scepter...
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail; There gloom the dark,
broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with
me,
That ever with a frolic welcome took The
thunder and the sunshine... Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old; Old
age hath yet his honor and his toil. Death closes all; but something ere the
end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove
with gods. The
lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; The long day wanes; the slow moon
climbs; the deep Moans round with many voices We are not now that strength
which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are, One equal
temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To
strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
Adapted from Ulysses,
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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