“When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him,
“Are you the one who is to come,
or are we to wait for another?”
Jesus answered them, “Go and
tell John what you hear and see:
the blind receive their sight,
the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead
are raised, and the poor have
good news brought to them.”
—Matthew 11:2 – 5
As the 137th General Assembly drew to a close that Friday morning in London, Ont., I chose these verses from Matthew’s gospel as a final piece for reflection before calling for an adjournment and offering concluding prayers. It is and always has been for me one of the most compelling passages in all of the Bible, and it addresses, I believe, our contemporary hope for the church in profound ways.
Consider its honesty. The very same enthusiastic John who “leapt in his mother’s womb” when pregnant, young Mary was nearby, now struggles to be certain that his Messianic preparations have not been in vain. “Are you the one?” John asks. There is both apprehension and hope in his question, and he awaits a conclusive response.
The last time I was asked to verify who I was, I appealed to protocol and produced a passport. It displayed my name, my nationality, and for good measure, an accompanying photo of a man who appeared to be a humourless insomniac. Mercifully, it sufficed, as those things tend to for governments and institutions. But Jesus is not interested in making appeals to governments or institutions to validate his authority. No doubt, he could have told John that he was a verifiable descendent of King David, or even the one whom Isaiah spoke of in his prophecy. For John, that should be convincing enough, wouldn’t you think? But neither of those traditional criteria seem to matter to Jesus in this self – defining moment. Because for Jesus, what matters is hope. What matters is health. What matters is abundant life. What matters is people like you and me, scarred and scared, who long to be embraced and loved and set free from the burdens of daily hurt and despair.
Can our church discover again that we are never at our best as a tradition – bound institution, but rather as a powerful movement sharing Christ’s transforming grace? By the power of God’s Spirit, congregations of ordinary people can still do extraordinary things for the blessing of humanity, everyday!
When we grasp afresh that our priority mission in Christ is to address human hurts and hopes, and not matters of institutional maintenance, membership and money, we discover that these lesser things just fall in line. Turns out, healthy congregations go places they may never have imagined, and see encouragement and human blessing they only dreamed of! When we have the courage to truly cast our nets, we will indeed see Christ in our work.
