Mission Statement

Epiphany 3C  01/24/10

Luke 4:14-21

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O lord, my strength and my salvation.

Let me tell you a story. It’s a story about me. And this sermon, which was supposed to be about how Jesus’ use of a passage from Isaiah was in fact, the articulation of his mission statement. And that his mission statement is also our own, as the church, and as individuals—it’s part of our personal mission statements. The sermon was supposed to be about that. And it was going to be good—I could feel it.

I could feel it. I had it all in my head—illustrations, flow, logic, even a humorous introduction about long, involved mission statements that enervate and complicate rather than energize and enlighten. All the research and exegesis and theology was done. It was Friday morning by this time, but all I had to do was mold these various elements into a cohesive, inspiring, and (need I say) brilliant message for all of you! Piece of cake.

But then, somewhere deep down inside of my brain, down in the dusty, cobwebby section reserved for long term memories, a warning light flashed on . Kind of like the check engine light in your car. Something was amiss, I knew not what. My first inclination was to ignore the warning. Much like I do the check engine light in my car. But I couldn’t shake that feeling that something was askew—it was as if there was something—I don’t know—familiar about the sermon in my head. A different feeling began to wash over me—dread.

Because it was becoming painfully clear to me that my projected sermon was not original. I had subliminally copied it from somewhere. And I knew where. I did a quick check of my laptop’s brain, uh, hard drive, and there it was. A sermon called Mission Statement from 2007. Same premise. Same illustrations I was going to use. Same text. Same reference to that great theologian, Dilbert. Heck, it was even plain as the nose on your face that the same commentaries had been used!

So now, if I wrote the sermon that I was envisioning, I would be guilty of plagiarism. Except that I couldn’t be. Because that other sermon was mine as well. You see, the lectionary (or bible passages we read in church) repeat themselves every three years. So, this Lukan text with Jesus and his mission statement last appeared on Sunday, January 21^st, 2007. And I wrote a sermon called Messiah’s Mission Statement. And unwittingly I was preparing to write the same sermon in 2010! You’d be surprised at how many times this has happened, too! Great minds think alike-especially when they’re the same mind.

So what to do? No time to start over. I could’ve taken a chance and used the same sermon again; seeing if anyone noticed. But, although Jesus most likely used the beatitudes more than just once, this was not a case of WWJD. What to do?

Well, there was one entree into the text that I was considering this time that I did not the last time. It comes from a guy named mike Metzger. And it takes my original idea about mission statements one step further. To set the stage, let me ask this. The start to my sermon was a quote from today’s psalm that many preachers (including my dad and Sarah’s dad) that they relate to as a mission statement for proclamation of the gospel. Who remembers it. Who could recite it. Who knows what it means? Now. Who would be comfortable telling someone the story about how Pastor Tom almost wrote the same sermon twice? Just about everyone. The story is about the mission—preaching—and transmits information about the importance of preparation, and the constancy of the proclaimed Word of God.

Here’s another example…

You’re all good Lutherans, for the most part. (Meaning that some aren’t Lutheran—not that some aren’t good!) Who would like to come to the microphone and recall for us The Ninety-five Theses? Anyone? Anyone? Number one? Anyone? I couldn’t do it either!

But now—who would feel confident enough to tell the story of Luther and the theses? How he was a professor, and had some strong disagreements with the RC Church over the sale of indulgences, and so he came up with 95 arguments for debate, and he wrote them down and nailed them to the door of Wittenberg Church. Story’s easier to remember, isn’t it. And though it isn’t a word by word rendition of Luther’s Theses, when joined with all the other stories we have of Luther, we get a memorable version of the mission statement lived out. The story is infused with the mission statement.

And, yes, the Smalcald Articles are more rightly thought of as containing Luther’s mission statement. But, hey, I was on a deadline.

But stories a re more effective tools for transmitting what we are about. Metzger has this to say:

“Good stories are like Post-It Notes – they make things like mission statements sticky. “Ethnologists have shown that culture is transmitted mainly through stories – anecdotes, jokes – but not in formal doctrines or theories,” writes Stephen Denning. When CEO Howard Schultz was asked about Starbucks’ growth, he reframed his answer as a story: “We’re not about filling stomachs but filling souls.” This story is a metaphor for Starbucks’ mission of creating a “third place.” You’ll remember Schultz’ story more than Starbucks’ mission.

[Mission] statements are not compelling because they don’t tell a story. “Stories

are ‘more true’ than facts because stories are multi-dimensional,” writes Annette Simmons. “Truth with a capital ‘T’ has many layers. Facts need the context of when, who, and where to become Truths.”
When churches and other Christian institutions start writing mission statements, it is almost always a sign that they’ve already lost their mission, says James Burtchaell in The Dying of the Light…[The Statement has] become nothing more than a slogan. It’s an icon but isn’t sticking in our imagination. Only stories do that. ‘Thou shalt not’ might reach the head, but it takes ‘Once upon a time’ to reach the heart, writes Bill Pullman, author.

If you don’t buy the mission statement myth, ask yourself why you don’t have one hanging on a wall at home. Families transmit their culture through stories…When we tell stories about growing up, ancestors, vacations or places we’ve visited, we’re transmitting culture.”

Jesus had a whole new world order to transmit. And while it’s good to think of Jesus having a mission statement, so we can borrow from it for our own, Luke put it in the very beginning of his gospel for a very good reason.

Again. How many of you could recite Jesus’ mission statement from Isaiah—without looking at your Celebrate insert? In your own words, even—could you remember to include all those important points?

In Luke, there’s no mention of Jesus using that passage the way we would as a mission statement. There’s no backdrop behind him saying, “Good news for the poor,” or “The Year of the Lord’s Favor.” No theme song. No over-priced t-shirt with logo. No—there are stories. Stories that you remember.

Stories about good news for the poor—they are blessed in God’s sight.

Stories about freeing the captives—b \

Stories about a blind man who gets his sight back.

Stories about the graciousness of God poured out radically on ten lepers

Stories about the Jubilee and a prodigal son.

Stories—stories that transmit the gospel message not just in words, but in settings that are real, characters you can relate to, scenarios that are familiar, and endings that make you want to hear more stories. Stories that stick—in your head and heart—that make it easy to tell someone about God. You don’t have to spout theology, or spew doctrine to let someone know God love is wide and deep. You just have to tell them about how Jesus ate with sinners (all of us) and associated with those low on the social ladder. Like the time Jesus went to Zaccheus’ house—now that’s a story. But it tells us a lot more than my man Z was sort of short. It’s about redemption and repentance.

Now—who can recite Messiah’s Mission Statement verbatim? No one. Does that mean it’s defective. No. But it does mean that we even more have to tell people the stories behind those mission bites. Like the story of how Messiah people welcome visitors and seekers extravagantly, with mugs and smiles. Or the story of how Sunday School kids make meals to take to members who need a boost and a child’s smile and some food, home-cooked. Or the one about the people who come into the office looking for some money and how we give them some, no questions asked. And how bout the story of rostered leaders being raised from this congregation—another one to be ordained soon, and two more studying—one for lay leadership and one to possibly become a chaplain—but who knows what they’ll end up doing?

In a short while we will gather for our Annual Meeting. It is both a chance to tell each other the stories that ground us as a congregation, and stories of faith in the future. The meeting itself will be a story to be recalled. If not for our single-mindedness, then for our ability to all come together next week and come before the Lord Christ, saints and yet sinners, living in the Kingdom already but not yet, and receive the body and blood that makes us whole again.

Three years ago we ended the sermon with a recitation of Messiah’s Mission Statement. Today I’ll simply say, “Once upon a time…” and leave the rest to you