Following Jesus

It's that time of year again:  it's the time of year that we hear Jesus calling disciples as he walks alongside the sea.  It's the beginning of his ministry.  He has gotten baptized, and gone into the wilderness, and now here he is, saying "Repent, the Kingdom of heaven is at hand!"  And he walks along, and he sees Peter and Andrew, and simply says, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people."  And they follow him.

Immediately.

This blows my mind.  I mean, simply the word "immediately" blows my mind.  They don't have to think it over?  They don't have to make a list of pros and cons?  I just can't imagine "immediately."  They just leave everything they know in order to "fish for people."

They are fisherman, and some people think this is what is so attractive, this is the thing that intrigues them.  They fish for fish, and Jesus says they will fish for people instead.  Jesus has used exactly the right words to catch them.

Right now, though, I'm thinking about this.  All they know about Jesus is one phrase:  "Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven has drawn near."  That's all.  He hasn't healed anyone.  He hasn't preached.  He hasn't multiplied any loaves or cast out any demons.  He has said this one sentence, and it is "Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven has drawn near."  And then he calls them.

And they follow.  Immediately.

He gives them no details.  They don't know where he is going.  There is no "strategic plan", no monthly goals to meet.  I'm not saying that Jesus doesn't know where he is going, but he doesn't tell them, at least not at this point.  Later on, he will let them in on the secret of his death and resurrection, but the words will not sound so clear to the disciples as they do to us.

I keep looking for something that will explain the disciples' eagerness to follow.  Immediately.  Perhaps when they heard the words "Kingdom of heaven" they saw a vision -- maybe those words conjured up a dream.  What kind of dream could it have been?  What did they think the kingdom of heaven was, that made them want to get up and start fishing for people?

What could someone say to you that would make you want to leave everything behind?  What is so good that you will risk everything for it?

The Kingdom of heaven.  A place where there is enough.  Where you don't have to lock your doors.  Where the leaves of the trees are for the healing of the nations, or for you.  A place where those crushed by life will be restored.  A place where they would finally be out of debt, forgiven, free.

Is that what it was?  Is that what made them follow?

What could someone say to you that would make you want to leave everything behind?  What is so good that you will risk everything for it?

Casting our Nets on the Right Side of the Boat

I was innocently reading aloud the Gospel story the other day, when I noticed something I had never noticed before.

I've been a pastor for a long time, and occasionally I suffer from the occupational hazard of thinking that I know the scripture passages from which I preach.  Sometimes I even think I know them by heart.

But there I was on Wednesday, reading John 21, that addendum to the Gospel of John, that beach story of fishing and breakfast and restoration.  I was reading it to a group at an assisted living center, and I noticed something.  The disciples had fished all night and caught nothing.  (haven't we all had experiences like this?)  And then -- Jesus appeared to them on the beach, but they didn't know it was Jesus.

And Jesus told them (we all know it's Jesus, but the disciples don't) to cast their nets on the right side of the boat, and they will catch something.

And of course, they do it.

And they catch so many fish they can barely handle them all.

So far, so good.

But on Wednesday, I noticed for the first time:  the disciples do what Jesus tells them to do, without knowing that it is Jesus.  They obey him, they take his advice, even though they think they are talking to a complete stranger.

Why do they do it?  Why do they cast their nets on the other side?

They are the fishermen, after all.  They know what they are doing (even though their expertise did not yield anything this time).  The person on the beach has wisdom (because he's Jesus) but they don't know that yet.

And yet... they do what he says.

I am reminded of the time I went to preach at the City and County Jail.  My text was from Matthew 4:  the call of the disciples.  I thought it was odd that the disciples dropped everything immediately and followed Jesus.  But the inmates were not so surprised.  It was Jesus calling their names, after all.  If Jesus calls you, you have to do it.  You can trust Jesus, even if you can't trust anyone else.  Of course they followed immediately.

But this time -- the disciples don't know who is telling them to lower their nets on the other side, the right side of the boat.  They do it anyway.

For some reason.

And I can't think of any reason why they do what Jesus suggests, except for this:  they have been fishing all night, and have caught nothing.  What do they have to lose?  They have come to the end of their own expertise and are willing to try something, something that might even seem foolish.

When I think of us modern-day disciples, I think that the problem is that we rarely feel that we are in this position.  Instead, we usually believe that we have a lot to lose -- too much to lose to risk casting our nets anywhere than where we have always put them down before.

I know that is often what keeps me stuck:  worrying so much that anything I do, any change I make, will mean loss to me, will mean loss to my congregation.  I don't realize that, in truth, my nets are really empty.

How do we get to the place where we have nothing to lose?  In truth, I do not know, but I know that somewhere, the resurrected Christ stands on the shore, inviting us to put our lives in his hands, inviting us to a strange and unexpected abundance.

God and Country

When I lived in Japan as a missionary many years ago, I heard a lot of stories.  I heard stories of Japanese Christians, and how they came to faith.  Some of the stories were from the time immediately after Japan lost World War II.  It was a time when the Japanese people did a lot of soul-searching.

I heard one story about man who had been in the military during World War II.  I no longer remember his position, but I still remember the American pastor pointing to the pew where this man always sat, every single Sunday.  He threw away his Shinto "god-shelf" when he became a Christian.  He no longer venerated his ancestors as you were bound to do, as a good Japanese man.  He was all in.

What had finally convinced him of the truth of the Christian faith?

It was the story of the creation of the world.  The Shinto religion only had a creation story for the creation of Japan.  But the Christian faith -- their creation story told of the creation of the whole world.  Therefore, the Christian God must be the greater God.  The Christian God is the God of the whole world, not just one country.

The Christian faith is a tiny minority in Japan.  All of the churches where I worshipped were small, just fifty or sixty people making a congregation.  Yet there was a witness of the good news in Japan, good news of great joy to all the people:  not just one country.

After three years of living and working in Japan, I returned to the United States.  I remembered this man's story, although I'm not sure exactly why.  Perhaps it was so odd to me.  I am used to testimonies that focus on the grace of God in Jesus.  I'm used to hearing stories that focus on personal redemption.  And all of that might have been there.  But the final piece of the puzzle for this man -- was that the Christian God created the whole world.  A god bigger than his country -- that was a god he would follow.  A God who created the whole world was a god worth believing in, a god worth following.

A God who created the whole world.  A God who loves the whole world.  Not just one country.  That is the God we confess when we come to church every Sunday.  That is the God we claim to follow.  So as much as I love my country, as much as I love this place I call home, I have to believe that God has wider concerns.  God loves the people fleeing violence in Central America, the displaced children in Syria, people who are starving, no matter their country.  God wants them to be fed.  God wants them to know God's love and grace.

In the Scriptures there are stories of a promised land and a chosen people:  Abraham and Isaac, and the nation of Israel.  But the chosen people were always set within a larger story:  the story of a God who created, and loves, the whole world.   Not just me, but you.  Not just American children, but children from Syria, children from Guatemala, children who are hungry, children who are afraid.  Wherever they are.

Tonight I am thinking about that Japanese man, the one who threw away his god-shelf and went all-in, who never thought that being Japanese and being Christian were the same thing.  Maybe it was easy, in a country where there were only a few Christians.  But even here in the United States, where there are many more Christians, I think we need to make a distinction.  I need to make a distinction.  I need to throw away my god-shelf and go all in.

I believe in a God who is bigger than my country.

Sermon for 3rd Sunday after the Epiphany

"Immediately"

based on Mark 1:14-20

            Sometimes it’s the small things you notice.    

            On Tuesday I woke up expecting to see a lot of snow on the ground – I ended up looking for the small pieces of sleet and snow that signaled danger

            Or those small pieces of ice – that can trip you up if you aren’t careful.  

            Or small signs of life --  when I used to visit the desert in Arizona, it would look pretty barren – but if I looked closely I could tell it was really alive.

            Sometimes it’s the small things you notice – that I notice – here – on Sunday morning – when we’re sharing the peace, or sharing communion, or visiting after the service.

            A smile.  A word.  A Gesture.

            Or in this passage of scripture from Mark – the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. 

            I’ve always focused on the obvious – the men were fishermen, and Jesus calls them by telling them that they will be “fishing for people” now.   

            And in using those words and that image – Jesus hooks them right away. 

            But today you know what I am noticing?  The word “immediately.”   

            Did you notice that word?  Jesus is at the very beginning of his ministry. 

            He has just been baptized and driven out to the wilderness.  (And by the way, the Spirit drove him out – immediately.)  

            And  afterwards he sees two fishermen and he calls them – and they follow him – immediately. 

            That’s sort of incredible. 

            I mean, you can chalk it up to Jesus being the voice of authority.  If he calls you, you just have to go. 

            When I went to do a church service at the Denver City and County Jail once, the inmates all told said that it was no surprise – that they followed “immediately.” 

            Because – Jesus. 

            You can’t trust anyone else, but you can trust Jesus. 

            So -- It’s a sign – a revelation – that when Jesus calls disciples, they follow “immediately.”  They can’t resist. 

            In the church, this season is called “Epiphany” – which is a word that means “Revelation.” 

            The word “epiphany” with a small “e” actually means a moment when the truth is revealed to you without you having to study or figure it out.

            You just suddenly (for example) knew, just KNEW that 2 plus 2 really does equal four, or that that key in the middle of the piano is middle C, or that the thing that you touch with your hands and drink and wash with – that’s called water. 

            The disciples heard Jesus call their name and suddenly they just KNEW, without having to study it, that he was the one.  It was a revelation.

            But what does it reveal? 

            The disciples know that Jesus is the one, they know he is the Messiah, but they don’t know much about him.  Yet. 

            They will learn more, and more will be revealed to them, but for now they have just heard him calling. 

            And they followed.  Immediately.

            And for me this reveals three things.  It reveals something about the disciples – that they were waiting. 

            They were waiting for someone, for something, for the kingdom of God, the Messiah, someone they could follow. 

            They were waiting for someone who would teach them, and heal them, – but they were also waiting for someone who would make them teachers and healers. 

            They were waiting for something that God had promised to Israel – that God had promised to the world. 

            So they followed immediately.          

            But  “immediately” also reveals a sense of urgency – that this is not the time for delays. 

            This is a time for action. 

            This is a time for repentance, by which I mean, a time to turn around, go in a different direction, actually follow Jesus. 

            And as much as we might say, OF COURSE the disciples followed immediately, it’s not that easy, is it? 

            So the other thing that this reveals is our – my – hesitation. 

            I want to ask, “Wait a minute?  Is it that really God calling?  I have a couple of things I have to do first that are important.”   

            Most of the time, following Jesus may not seem that urgent to us.  In fact, most of the time, the decisions we make may not seem that urgent – until the flood waters come up and you have to leave your home – or stay –

             or until someone is in trouble and you have to help – or not

             – or someone asks you (for example), “will you marry me?” and you have to answer yes – or not.   

            The Kingdom of God has drawn near – and do you want to be a part of it?   -- Don’t take your time.

            So, it’s a small thing, but the word immediately sticks out to me.    As being a part of the epiphany – a part of the revelation.

             And you know what – it happens TWICE. 

            Twice that word “immediately” – when Jesus calls the second set of brothers, James and John – he calls them immediately.

            Peter and Andrew didn’t hesitate. 

            But when Jesus gets to James and John, he doesn’t hesitate either.             He doesn’t ask for resumes.  He doesn’t have them do a personality test. 

            He doesn’t have a conversation with them first, so that he can find out if they are right for the job. 

            He calls them  -- immediately. 

            If you ask me, this is even more incredible. 

            That Jesus does not hesitate – to call Peter and Andrew, James and John – and us. 

            And this – this reveals something too, something about Jesus, and something about us.

            But what does it reveal? 

            What do you think? 

            God is not hesitating to call you – right where you are. 

            And not just (or even immediately) here, in church. 

            I just get to remind you about it on Sunday. 

            NO – he’s calling you while you are casting your nets into the sea, which is to say, he is calling to you while you are doing your daily work, while you are going to the grocery store with your kids,

            while you are at the office, in the truck, meeting your neighbors, playing with children. 

            God is not hesitating to call you – immediately -- to be a part of God’s reign of mercy and love and compassion

            And what does it reveal? 

            Today Jesus is calling you  -- and suddenly – suddenly – you know – without studying or having to figure it out – you just know – that despite everything – you are beloved and valuable –and worthy to bear the good news. You are God’s beloved child, and he is calling you without hesitation.          

            “Follow me,” he says to you – every single day. 

            And you know – sometimes it’s the small things that you notice.     The child who needs encouragement to follow her dream

            The stranger who needs hope.  The family who needs a home. 

            The refugee who needs shelter.   

            Every person who needs – the kingdom of God.  Right now.

            Immediately he calls you.  Because he loves you.  Because he sees you.

            Don’t take your time.  AMEN

Listen to the Children

So, I do a children's message on Sundays, usually.  I know that, in some circles, this is a controversial statement.  I know that children's messages are not universally beloved, or esteemed, and that they are not always well-done.  I won't even claim that I am particularly good at them.  But I know that there is something I enjoy about being able to gather with the children for a few minutes, to interact with them, to listen to them.

So, even though there are risks, I have a children's message.  And on Sunday, after Hurricane Harvey, the gospel, and the children's message, told the story after Peter's confession.  So I began by trying to use a hula hoop (something I am spectacularly bad at) and then asking the children if I should give up because I am not good at the hula hoop.  They all thought that giving up was a bad idea, and most of them could not even envision that there would be something hard for them.  They could play all the sports.  They could play musical instruments!

I asked them if there was anything that had been hard for them in the storm last week.  At least one little boy thought that the hardest thing was to stay inside for a long time.  But a couple of the other children thought that other people did hard things during the hurricane.

Then I said.  In today's gospel reading, Jesus had to tell Peter a hard thing.  He told Peter that he was going to die.

And then something happened.

As soon as I said that, a little girl gasped.

Maybe more than one little girl, but one for sure, and so loudly that (I was told later) they could hear her all the way in the balcony.

Jesus tells his friends that he is going to die.  And even more than that, he tells them that he is going to be crucified, a particularly cruel and shameful means of death.  And we who have been coming to church all of our lives and hearing these words may not really hear them any more, may not really know what they mean.

We needed that gasp.  We needed that gasp to remind us that Jesus' death was not simply a religious reality -- it was a real thing.

We needed that gasp -- and you know what?  We need the children.

We don't need them because they are "the future of the church".  We don't need them because somehow their presence ensures our future.

We need them because they see and hear differently than we do, and we need all the ears and eyes and voices, to grow deeply in faith.  They have different failings and different strengths, and we learn to share our faith and trust God together.

Jesus will die on the cross -- and a little girl -- hearing the terrible news purely -- gasps.  And our hearts break into pieces.

This is the life of the church.  Sighs too deep for words.

Sermon For Pentecost 2: "Traveling Light"

            Maybe it’s because the Vacation Bible School children will be going to Peru this week (at least virtually), but lately I’ve been thinking back to my own mission adventure in Japan long ago. 

            Specifically, I’m remembering the preparation – I remember getting a huge packet of information in the mail one day. 

            It was a large book of instructions, written by all of the current short-term missionaries, with helpful hints about what to bring or leave at home. 

            Some people recommended bringing clogs, because I would be taking off my shoes whenever I went inside. 

            Others mentioned favorite foods I might miss, like Peanut Butter, or boxed Macaroni and Cheese. 

            Some advised bringing a good one volume Bible commentary for help in preparing English language Bible studies for the students. 

            I remember that besides my two suitcases, I purchased a large trunk to fill with necessities.  And I did fill it.

            I can’t help noticing the contrast between the booklet I received, and Jesus’ instructions to the twelve in this passage of Scripture.  

            No advice about what to bring along, no helpful tips about how to change money, no what style of shoe to bring. 

            Instead, Jesus begins by telling them their message, “the Kingdom of Heaven has drawn near.’ 

            And then he tells them what actions go along with this message:  Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. 

            That’s it. 

            Tell the people the good news, and do good among the people where you go.  

            That’s the simple job of missionaries, and it has ever been:  tell the good news, and do good. 

            And then, instead of a list of what to bring, Jesus has a list of what NOT to bring, which is sort of odd.  

            Instead of giving them a list of what to pack, he gives them a list of what NOT to pack, a list of what to let go of, a list of things that might even – for some reason or another – weigh them down.

            I loved being a missionary, and I love mission trips.

             I hope to take more of them with some of you – whether as far away as Peru, or as close as downtown Conroe.

             And I have my bag all packed, but after reading Jesus’ instructions, I’m beginning to think that I may be taking along some things that I don’t really need.

             Maybe I should check it out. 

            Hmmm.  I see that the first thing I have here is my little box of coins from all over the world. 

            I probably don’t need that, since Jesus says, “take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts.” 

            In fact, it seems like Jesus is saying that I don’t even need my billfold with my cash and credit cards. 

            I will admit, this makes me kind of nervous. 

            I wonder why he told his apostles this.

             I suspect that he wants them to go not as people who have everything, including all of the answers. 

            He wants them to get to know the people in the communities where they are going, and to receive hospitality from them. 

            That means I probably don’t need these canned goods I brought along, because I thought I would miss my favorite foods. 

            Jesus wants his disciples to find the people who are “worthy” in the community where they go, and stay with them, and eat with them, because it’s only when we sit down to eat with people that we can truly get to know them and share the good news in a way they will hear.              

            Make no mistake – the disciples went out to give – to give healing and hope and help – but they also went out to receive. 

            I see I brought an extra sweater – sort of the modern-day equivalent of a tunic, but Jesus says don’t bring any extra clothes along.         No fashion statements for me. 

            If I need extra clothes I will have to trust that I will receive them along the way. 

            And I see that Jesus also says that I am not supposed to bring these extra shoes either.

             I wonder what that is about. 

            It seems like he must want me to go not as someone who is comfortable, but at least sometimes, uncomfortable, and maybe a little needy. 

            But he says don’t take them, so I guess I will put them back. 

            And my bag IS getting somewhat lighter. 

            So that’s not a bad thing.

            Jesus also tells me that the message is really simple:  the good news, the kingdom of heaven has drawn near.  In fact, it’s so close, that it’s in these simple but awesome acts of healing and goodness. 

            That’s it.  So maybe I don’t have to bring these heavy theological books I packed, the ones that make me think I have all the answers

            to the questions people might ask me.

             At least not on this missionary journey that we are taking together. 

            You know, my bag is much lighter now, but there is still something here, and maybe it is something I can take along with me. 

            Oh!  It’s my baptismal certificate! It tells me that I am God’s child.  Maybe that’s all I need, to know who I am, and who I belong to.  

            Maybe this is the most important thing of all.

            When I think about the gift of baptism, usually I think of it as this comforting identity, this promise that life with God, now and forever.              And it is.     

            But baptism is both a gift – and a call.

             It’s the time when we are given the promise that we belong to God, but also the calling to go out and be missionaries!  “let your light so shine before others….” 

            And the only thing we HAVE to take along is our identity… and in fact it’s better that way… because God wants us to travel light.

            We take – ourselves – with all of our gifts and all of our faults – all of our hopes and all of our fears –

            And God uses us – who we are – somehow – to proclaim his mercy and grace.

            The Kingdom of God has drawn near – whether we believe it or not – whether we recognize it or not –

            And when we go to share this good news

            When we travel light

            We don’t go as people who have all the answers

            We go as people who also depend on mercy

            We go as people who are also hungry

            We go as people who are also imperfect

            We go as people who are also needy.

            So put down all the things you think you need today.

            Put down all the things that weigh you down, what you think you know or you need to know.

            Put down your answers, and pick up your questions, your curiosity, and your love,

            Pick up the one thing you need –

            The love which has been poured into your heart,

            The name in which you were baptized.

            The one who will never let you go.

            AMEN

Sermon for Trinity Sunday: "Always"

            I’ve always loved the old standards – I heard my parents sitting at the piano and singing and playing many of them:

             Beautiful Brown Eyes, I Dream of Jeannie, Blue Skies….  but one of my very favorites is this one:

            I’ll be loving you Always

            With a love that’s true Always.

            When the things you’ve planned

            Need a helping hand

            I will understand,

            Always, Always….

            Always.. 

             That’s the song, and that’s the word today:  Always.  The song was a wedding present from Irving Berlin to his wife. 

            So ALWAYS is a promise – like the vows we make to one another – for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health – for better and for worse….

            And ALWAYS is Jesus’ promise to us, at the very end of gospel:  I am with you always, even to the end of the age.

            It’s right there in this short passage of scripture – which in four verses, gives us both promise and challenge. 

            There they are, just eleven disciples, on the mountain with Jesus.  And there they worship him.

             But some of them are doubting. 

            (I wonder about that.   – Even Jesus rising from the dead can’t totally erase their doubt.)  

            There Jesus promises them that all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to him

            – even though there will be plenty of opportunities to doubt this reality

             – when their mission does not seem as successful as it should be – when they are being questioned

            – there Jesus tells them to go into all the world and make disciples – all the world – just eleven of them

             – and then he gives us this promise.  ALWAYS.

            It’s so re-assuring to hear isn’t it?

             I suppose that’s why it’s one of my favorite songs. 

            But I wonder if we really believe it, and I don’t mean just believe that it’s true, but really LIVE as if it’s true.

             I imagine that there are times when we do – there are times when we  can’t help it because that’s all we have.

             There are times when relationships fray, when the diagnosis is grim, when it is clear that we have taken on a task that is beyond us.  And then it’s all we can do:  trust God. 

            But oftentimes we believe that God is with us while at the same time also sort of suspecting that everything is really up to us.

             I imagine that this is an occupational hazard for pastors – with our often-long hours and high expectations,

             it’s easy for us to come to believe that the ministry of the church and its success (whatever that looks like) depends on us, more than God.

            Today is Trinity Sunday, and I imagine that our gospel reading for today was chosen for just this reason.

             Matthew 28 names the Trinity:  Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

              Jesus doesn’t explain the Trinity and he doesn’t instruct the disciples in the correct theology of the Trinity.

             He just tells them that it is in this name that they baptize, that it is in this name:  Father, Son and Holy Spirit, that they go.

              Theologians have written oceans of books on this subject, and I could try to explain it,

             but I suspect that at the end, the sermon would be both awfully boring, and also incomprehensible. 

            How can God be both one and three?  Don’t even try to figure it out.

            But here’s what I will say:

             The first Christians starting speaking this way about God because of what they were experiencing. 

            They believed in one God because they were all good Jewish men and women. 

            But they were experiencing something in life and ministry of Jesus and the presence of the Spirit. 

            God was still God, Jesus, a human being, was a part of their experience of God now, and it was the Spirit who kept making Jesus’ presence real in their lives. 

            They experienced a relationship with God that was somehow different, because of Jesus.

            Maybe that’s why, when I hear Jesus’ promise at the end of the gospel of Matthew, I immediately think of this song, and that leads me to the promises of marriage.

             The cross and resurrection are God’s commitment to be with us ALWAYS, through everything, and in everything. 

            And this commitment is important not only in our individual lives, but also as a community of faith, as together we fulfill Jesus’ instructions, to go into all he world…

            When I talk with couples getting married, one of the exercises we often do is one called Couple Goals. 

            There each person names 3 personal goals, and three couple goals, and they talk about how they are going to fulfill them together.      The idea is to get them thinking that they are a team, that their lives are inextricably connected.  

            God’s life is inextricably connected with ours. 

            God became one of us, and suffered all that we suffer, and when he rose, he sealed the promise, “I am with you always.” 

            Even death won’t separate us.  And we are inextricably connected with God’s mission – it is us who God sends into the world to bear his image, his message, and his love.

             I can’t imagine how the disciples thought they were going to fulfill this mission – only eleven of them, some of them doubting, and a whole world in front of them.

             They could only do it by the mercy and grace of God.

            And there is the promise.  “I am with you always.”  ALWAYS. 

            I used to visit a retired pastor and his wife.

              I remember how, when I first came to church, they sat in one of the front rows and he would always take notes during my sermons which was just a little intimidating.

              Then later I found out that he was taking notes because he always called one of his daughters on Sunday evening so that they could compare notes on the Sunday Sermon. 

            His wife began to have dementia, and when she went into a nursing home, he came to visit her every day.

            On the rare occasions that he couldn’t be there, he sent one of their children

            .  But every day he visited her and stayed the day by her side.         When I came to visit with communion, I experienced this. 

            I could see her anxiety and her fear, and how she would say, “Don’t leave me.  I’m afraid.”

             And he would repeat, over and over, “I’m not going anywhere.  You can’t get rid of me.”

             And then we would share communion, and he would help her remember the words, and the promises, too.

            For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…. That’s the way it is with God, and us.   Always. 

            Go therefore into all the world… it is our shared mission, always.  AMEN