Mark Labberton - Called: The Crisis and Promise of Following Jesus Today

W hen I was considering the possibility of embracing Christian faith as a young college student, what I feared most was that it would make my life smaller rather than largerless love, less joy, less creativity, less wonder, less engagement. I had met enough Christians who were incarnational proof of this, so when I finally came to faith in Christ as a college student, it was because I discovered that Jesus saves people from the very smallness I feared. I saw that the very essence of the kingdom of God is a life bigger than I would ever find outside of it.

I understand how we have come to live in times where many reject the gospel for being too small, too parochial for the enormous challenges we face. I know very well how it is that the lives of Christians seem too constricted to have any relevance to the real world and its messy complexities, and how far removed the Christian life can appear from abundance, freedom and joy. As a study assistant to the Anglican pastor and writer John Stott during my early years as a believer, I witnessed Johns faithfulness in public and private, as a highly visible speaker and as a nearly invisible spiritual shepherd to many. What I saw served to cement my conviction about life abundant as a follower of Jesus.

It was on a trip to India and Bangladesh where, in a dark, dilapidated courtyard surrounded by small fire pits, blackened pots and a group of simple homes housing a handful of people, I heard the global Christian leader give one of his most memorable sermons. I saw that the abundant life I hoped forthat he and those to whom he spoke sharedwas carried with them on the inside. Inside, they were not bound; they were no longer small.

John had been asked by a friend, a priest serving in Burma, for a tender and intimate favor: John, he said, I am serving so far away from my dying mother in Madras; you might be able to reach her sooner than I can. She is poor, in declining health, and her teeth are falling out one by one. Would you make a pastoral visit to her the next time you are in India?

And so we set off, with scant information about location, to find his friends elderly mother. After hours of searching, moving self-consciously through streets of shacks and shelters so different than the more established structures wed left only three hours before, we arrived at the door to this womans home. Eventually, she emerged from the shadows, frail but beaming with tearful joy. At her insistence, she knelt at Johns feet and kissed them, and then the two of them spoke through our translator for awhile. At the end of our visit, she asked John to speak and to give her a blessing.

A small piece of carpet was honorifically placed for him in the center of the mud floor, and without anything like the kind of pulpit to which he was often accustomed, John preached on John 3:16. It was John Stott at his fullest. Filled with love for Jesus and for his fellow pastor, John spoke to the mother who had believed, in spite of her poverty, not as a stranger but as Gods own. The mother who provided such a rich inheritance to her son received the blessing of her sons gratitude as John interceded. His words were simple and clear. His tone was compassionate and dignified. His intellectual rigor and verbal skill were fully intact. And his assurances were personal and tender. He was fully present to her and to the goodness of God. It was the sermon of his life, and it has shaped my view of following Jesus ever since.

That scene was a rich moment of Gods grace. A priest in Burma, a widow in India, a world-renowned British preacher and his young American internwe were so deeply connected in the family of Christ, by Christ and in Christ that a transcendence beyond all of us and our meager circumstances took place, filling us.

That experience explained the abundant life to me in terms that were heart and mind shaping. It is a life I have come to recognize consistently in many other men and women I have known who follow the common call to live daily as followers of Jesus, whatever their walk of life or part of the world. This is the good news: that God so loved the world that the gift of Gods Son reorders and enlarges our hearts and our lives.

Later, Johns life was one of the counterpoints that further helped me to see the cosmic and global reach of the gospel. Thousands heard John proclaim on a vast stage, Our God is a global God. But I heard it in his tiny London flat, in his words, his prayers and his letters. Although God clearly provides gifts for ministry, greater influence comes through character, the fruit of Gods Spirit. Charisma, winsomeness, popularity, charm, cleverness can matter. The greater testimony, however, comes from a character shaped by the love of Jesus, consistently demonstrated in ordinary action. I witnessed it equally that day in Johns preaching and in the faith of the stooped widow.

The kingdom of God is always intimate but never small. This is what drew and draws people to Jesus. It all turns, however, on our response to Jesus two words: Follow me. This is the primary call of God that creates and defines the church. We bear authentic witness to Gods love when we demonstrate Jesus-following lives. But too often, we dont. The gift we are meant to be is neither available nor received. Meanwhile the world needs a church that actually lives its call. Urgently.

We will not resolve the crisis from inside the church by devising improved techniques to address denominational disharmony, declining brand loyalty, physical and financial decay, and other alarming trends. That would be like offering swimming lessons in an empty swimming pool. We will not resolve the crisis by personal renewal alone, by asking, What is Gods call on my life? The question is earnest but individualistic, often neglecting the shared vocation for the people of God.

We can, however, recenter our lives on Jesus Christ, whose call is to live differently. Whatever our context, our work, our relationshipsthat is the primary thing we are to be about every day: following Jesus. Our lives unfold daily amid beauty and horror and everything in between. Our opportunities vary widely, as do our commitments. The range of human experience, so outside our control, means that some live in privilege while the far larger measure are subjected to poverty, violence and injustice.