Letters to a Church in Quarantine - Chapter 1
I try to imagine being a beetle in the corner of the room when Jesus broke news to the disciples that he was going send them out on their own for the first time. He wanted to pair them up and send them out into surrounding towns with not much more than the cloaks on their backs and their first century Chacos. The only goal was to take all the things they’d watched him say and do…and go test it out.
On their own.
On their own.
No Jesus to rescue them when the conversation got weird.
No Jesus to disarm the angry religious person who couldn’t see they were missing it.
No Jesus to help them rid people of what tormented them.
No Jesus to book their hotel.
It was their turn to seek God and to try using their own gifts and abilities on their world. That whole "go make disciples" thing got real for them overnight.
What do you think raced through their minds, as they tucked into their mats the night before sendoff? How do you think they felt?
Woefully unprepared? Unsure of what they'd eat when the sock money ran out?
Wondering if they'd spend any nights on the streets?
Did they check maps to see if Canada had been founded so they could emigrate?
Wondering if they'd spend any nights on the streets?
Did they check maps to see if Canada had been founded so they could emigrate?
I love this short little story of Jesus’ first sendoff. It’s a little overlooked, in my opinion.
And I think they’ve got a lesson for us if we’ll learn it.
Because I think it was THAT moment when Love began to go global.
~~~~~
The first time I made the drive from Dallas to Flint alone, I was a college freshman. Grandma wasn’t doing well, so Mom and I drove to Texas to visit. When it was clear that a week wasn’t enough, I was sent back alone.
Not gonna lie, I was mostly excited. For an introvert who likes to drive, a multi-day solo road trip is a little slice of Heaven.
I was also secretly a little nervous. My janky cell phone had awful service, and in 2003, a GPS was only used by truckers and people who wore expensive suits to work. My only navigation tools were an out-of-date Rand McNally atlas that was missing half of the states, and my trusty sense of direction. Fun fact: As a teen, I once got lost in my own neighborhood, which itself was just a big loop.
It’s an interesting sensation when fear and confidence collide; almost exhilarating, if you can bear the butterflies and ignore impending doom.
I was proud to be trusted to be out on my own.
I could go where I wanted (BOOMLAND FIREWORKS IN MISSOURI!!)
I could get snacks whenever I wanted (SOUR PATCH KIDS!!)
I could eat where I wanted (So. Much. White Castle!!!)
I could take the route we never took (Through Chicago!! NO OHIO!!)
However…
I had also never driven more than 4 hours alone.
I had never booked a hotel room before.
I thought only locals had to pay for toll roads.
I could spell “budget,” but I had never seen one in real life.
You might be surprised that I never once got lost on that trip.
You might not be surprised that I regretted saving $20 on the cheaper hotel.
You shouldn’t be surprised that I ran out of money at a gas station in farmtown, IL.
On the bright side, our 4th of July party was LIT that year. Happy birthday, #murica.
As I pulled into our driveway at the end of the trip, I was exhausted. My body was salt-swollen, my brain was caffeine-buzzed, and my car smelled of grease and gunpowder. Even though I had made a few mistakes and missed a few exits along the way, I walked a little taller as I entered the house. Well it was more like a waddle. But I waddled taller nonetheless.
Why? It’s not like I’d never made the trip before. We did it once or twice a year. What made the difference? For the first time ever, I had done it on my own, using the abilities I had been given. Maybe one day, I'd go a little further.
~~~~~
We don't have an account of that first forced mission trip (now THERE'S an idea for your church outreach team). I imagine the disciples' successes were matched by their failures. I personally hope Peter cussed out a pharisee or two.
Regardless of what they actually did on the trip, I think that journey taught them a few lessons; assuredly more than we could count. But I see two big ones right now.
First of all, they got to test drive the stuff Jesus taught them. And it worked!
Second, they got a taste of the future.
Unbeknownst to them, the lessons they learned on that tour-de-Galilee would lay a foundation for the future Church to one day grow from seed to sapling.
In the midst of an earthly kingdom and culture that claimed to be holy yet proved to be as greedy and needy as any other, the disciples got a glimpse of what it looked like to go out into the streets and sow Truth and Love onto strange ground and see what blooms.
Brilliant move, Rabbi.
When it was done, they came back and regrouped. They caught up.
They laughed at/with Peter.
Made Matthew put the budget sheets away.
Endured Thomas' eye rolls.
And then they prepared to do it again. Maybe one day they'd go a little further.
~~~~~
Right now, our circumstances are strikingly different from theirs. Yet I also see equally striking similarities between the Church in quarantine and the disciples’ trip.
And it’s bringing me more hope than I would have imagined it could.
(Important, intrusive side note: I am NOT downplaying the pandemic. I mourn its tragedies, and the losses of lives AND jobs. I’d erase it all if I could, but I can’t. I also do not believe that “God caused this so people will love him more.” Though that’s a different topic, and thanks to “internet bravery,” it is one that I will only ever discuss in person. Now please press on.)
To reap hope from the disciples’ story, I’ve had to release my grip on what I’m used to and open my heart to what could be.
You see, the Church was never meant to wake for one day, then hibernate for six.
Church was never meant to be a pleasant hour to be added to a monthly schedule.
Church was never meant to be a thing to DO at all.
Because the Church is people. It is alive. A collective body with many parts.
Every single person has a part to play, a skill to exercise, a Gift to give.
I think we know and want this to be true. But shifting schedules to live it out is tough.
Some see our closed doors and think they’re denied the chance to GO to church.
But I look at our closed doors right now and I see a chance for us to BE the church.
Us. ALL of us. Women and men, collectively practicing our individual gifts as pastors, teachers, entrepreneurs, listeners, and helpers in order to love, aide, or even feed our neighbors and “enemies”
Don’t get me wrong. I miss and long for Sundays (because I miss YOU).
But. In this reset period, if we can be bold enough to use our time to test drive what Jesus said and did, we just might get a glimpse of an even brighter future.
A future where there are thousands of pastors, idea-starters, teachers, encouragers, heart-healers, belly-fillers, and helpers flooding our schools, workplaces, and neighborhoods, instead of a few.
A future where Sunday morning is a celebration of what happened Monday thru Saturday in our cul-de-sacs, and not just an inspiring hour in our cushy seats.
A future where every Christ-follower saw themselves as the disciples, sowing Truth and Love onto strange and familiar ground every day and seeing what blooms.
What if our time apart allows us to test-drive what Jesus did and said, so that we know what to do when we’re back together?
What if we saw this as OUR mission trip?
What if we believed that this could be OUR time for love to start going global?
And what might I need to let go of to get me there? What might I need to do?
And what about you?
And what about you?
We could see this as just a quarantine. Or we could use it to build something more.
If we dare to make a shift, it just might change the world.
Hey! It has happened before…
Hey! It has happened before…
~~~~~
And one day when this is all done, we’ll pull into the church parking lot and waddle up to the doors; our brains coffee-buzzed, and our eyes a little salt-swollen. We’ll laugh as you tell us how you fixed a neighbor’s fence, and then paid someone to do it right. I’ll share about when I apologized for cussing someone out on Facebook. We’ll sing and celebrate, maybe hang in the lobby long enough to tick off the traffic team, and then head out.
Only this time, when the doors close, we’ll know that Church isn’t over for the week.
It’s only getting started.
And maybe one day, we'll go a little further.
And maybe one day, we'll go a little further.
