Licking My Apostolic Wounds
I would like to beg the church, plead with the church, fall at the alter at the church and weep until they welcome in the apostles and prophets. It is partially for myself, and for the church itself, and for those outside the church that I dress up in rags and address the citywide church. I don’t know how to do it. How do I pull it off?
Part of it is because once again I lick my wounds. I get tired of defending myself. I had a conversation yesterday where I had to face the existing mind set and try to explain myself. This is what I get all the time, “Well, what are you going to do with the people once you reach them?” We have really messed this thing up with the missionary idea.
My reply is this - “How many missionaries do you think there are in any given church, by percentage?” I would argue less that one percent of the church population is equipped, sent, and backed up by existing churches. There are probably very few local missionaries here in my city.
Here is another part of my answer. The work of mission, incarnation is “our” responsibility. It is the shared responsibility of the entire church to be missional. Not that everyone has to be the ones to be sent out as scouts (like Joshua and Caleb), but when these scouts return, it is the responsibility of all the tribes to move into the promised land. It was the responsibility of Israel to be a central blessing point for the entire world.
Our problem is the same - we don’t want to do the work. Poor, poor us. I mean that, because we don’t get to see what the Lord can do together, and we don’t get to see the literal kingdom of God now. We wait for the banquet table up in heaven (which I am looking forward to), but we have table scraps now.
The church cannot mature without apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers (along with the other gifts of course) getting along and working together. Still I must defend myself, because people think somehow I left for some bizarre reason, either because I am a postmodern backslider or have some selfish have to do it my own way.
Here is what happened to me - God, for whatever reason, switched gifts on me. He gave me this apostolic call… I didn’t get it then, but I do understand it now. He also dumped a bit of prophet into the recipe and that sealed the deal. This is not about better - it is about different but equal.
I stand on this soap box - if we do not find a way to get along, if we do not get and give equal voice, none of us will mature, including myself. Right now the power structure is slanted - I pray for equal ground and equal voice.