Baccalaureate Address: The Ministry of "Being There"

Dr. Gregory L. Waybright presented his final address as President of Trinity International University to the graduating class of 2007 at a baccalaureate service on May 11, 2007.

My son, Brandon, called me and asked a thought-provoking question a few weeks ago. He was to write a paper for his "Perspectives on World History" class on the question, "What well-known event in recent world history has had a thought- and life-forming impact on your family?"

For some reason, without hesitating, I said, April 4, 1968—when I was 16 years old and a junior in high school.

Of course, thought- and life-shaping moments rarely happen in a vacuum. My response to this particular event began in the summer of 1963. That was when I moved to Bluefield, West Virginia. This wonderful and beautiful little "All-American" town was also very segregated racially. There were two high schools in town, one for the blacks and the other for the whites. And the places where people could live were clearly defined according to race. Those boundaries dared not be crossed. My family lived on Union Street, just a couple of blocks away from one of the black communities. I felt safe there. But for me to go to town, I had to walk up Bland Street and straight though a much more "colorful" section.

I will not forget one of my first times of rustling up the courage to walk downtown alone. It was a summer afternoon. I headed up Union Street and turned precariously onto Bland. When I got past Preston Street and crossed into the black community, I could feel my heart race. I was sure I would be mugged. I listened carefully to every sound around me—looked for anyone who might come near me. I didn't know what I would do if one of the "residents" came my way. I'm pretty sure I would have run.

When I turned one corner, I found that I was just in front of the Coal City Gift Shop. Three older black men were sitting outside on the sidewalk talking… laughing. They saw me come around the bend and must have recognized the terror in my eyes. One of them said, "Young fellow, you should just pull up a chair and sit down with us for a spell. You look like you need a cool bottle of pop. And… you might learn something too. You might find out that we're just folks."

So I did. And I began to learn. I'm learning still.

It was later that summer, August 28, 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC, before 250,000 people that Dr. Martin Luther King delivered what I still consider to be one of the most powerful speeches I've ever heard. You need to know that he was not respected by most of the people I associated with. But the line from his speech that I will never forget was "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. Today, I have a dream."

For some reason, the seed of that dream began to take root in my heart. I was young and immature—but somehow that dream seemed Christian to me. It was a vision of a world in which people actually saw one another as people. It was a dream of communities of people in which there was respect regardless of race, ethnicity, nationality, or economic standing.

I remember that in my Appalachian home this was not a dream that many seemed to share. But it was in my heart. And then it happened—on April 4, 1968, Dr. King was shot dead in Memphis, Tennessee, where he was to lead a march of mostly white sanitation workers, protesting against low wages and poor working conditions.

I moved to Chicago a year and a half later and immediately volunteered to go weekly to Cabrini Green (called "the projects") in the city. I led children's ministries and Bible studies. I know I didn't do anything very well. I don't know if I had any positive impact on anyone. But I met great people there: Single moms who loved their kids and loved the Lord but didn't know where the next day's necessities would come from. Countless kids being raised by a grandparent. I won't sugarcoat life in the projects—but, in spite of all the struggles, I think I received more hugs there than I've ever received in my life.

So my own dream deepened. Those of you who know me know that I continue to dream this dream in this very broken and divided world. I've often wondered during my twelve years at Trinity whether an academic community could be a place where those normal walls of administration and faculty, students in debt and business office, men and women in seminary, black and white and Hispanic and Asian could be broken down, and we could see one another and respect one another as truly being one in Christ.

I am more convinced than ever before that the only hope for this dream is not political correctness or legal maneuvering but the power of God through the Gospel at work in the church of the Lord Jesus Christ. It's what Paul talked about in the book of Ephesians, dealing with the huge wall of division in his day between the Jew and the Gentile. In Ephesians 2, Paul said that Jesus "came and preached peace to those who were far away (the Gentile) and those who were near (the Jew) for through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. Consequently, you are… fellow citizens with God's people"—together you are "members of God's household… with Christ Jesus as the chief cornerstone. In Him the whole building is joined together… In Him you are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by His Spirit."

It is the building of this unified global and diverse family of redeemed people who bring glory to the name of Christ that is our great eschatological vision. It is the Revelation 7 gathering of people, each one conformed to the image of Christ, before the throne of God and in front of the Lamb of God, made up of a multitude so great that no one can count: from every nation, tribe, people, and language, and all of us crying out in a loud voice, "Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne and to the Lamb." This, graduates, is what we're a part of. This is our dream—and it is a dream that we should commit our lives to furthering. It is a dream about which I've sometimes wondered whether the first time I will ever see anything like it will be in heaven! I ask myself if we should be content to exist in, to build, to be satisfied with the divisions even in the church among people for whom Christ died—divides that seem to be as great now as they have ever been.

Dr. Paul Hiebert, who died this past year, would hear me speak of this and would say two things. First, he would remind me that the theological motif of this dream is the kingdom of God. Namely, where God's reign expands in communities, this Good News will be preached, and this love and respect among people will be evidence of that reign.

Second, he said that he was quite sure that one of the major ways of furthering God's reign among people was for all God's people to become involved in "incarnational ministry." Those whose lives have been compelled by the love of Christ to surrender to the rule of God through faith in Christ need to be involved personally in the lives of people—without respect to matters of nationality, race, social standing, or educational achievement. "We must love God with our whole beings in obedience to the first command. This will lead to us ‘loving as ourselves, all God brings across our paths.'"

I have generally stopped calling this kind of personal ministry "incarnational ministry" and now call it the "ministry of being there." Over the past two years, I've been engaging in a study of Jesus' own ministry of "being there" as it is recorded in the Gospel of Luke. As Jesus began his ministry, he went to his hometown of Nazareth and visited the synagogue on the Sabbath. When he had the chance to read the Scriptures, he opened to the section in Isaiah in which it is written, "The Spirit of the Lord is on me because he has appointed me to preach good news to the poor-freedom for prisoners-recovery of sight for the blind-release for the oppressed." Then, after a poignant pause, Jesus declared, "Today this Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing."

I read through the rest of the Gospel to see what this good news actually looked like in the lives of people. About a dozen people came to Jesus with great needs—with quests to find a new way to live. Among them were:

• A man filled with leprosy and without hope—touched, healed, restored to community by Jesus (Luke 5:12-16)
• A Roman military man with a servant near death—Jesus was willing to go to his home, to give him time, to affirm his faith, to heal his servant (Luke 7:1-10)
• A sinful woman—at a Pharisee's home, Jesus was willing to be touched by her, to receive criticism for doing so, to pronounce "shalom" because of her faith (Luke 7:36-50)
• A Samaritan who had once had leprosy—Jesus pronounced that he not only was physically healed but also made whole by faith (Luke 17:11-19)
• A tax collector—Jesus was willing to go to his home and tell him that he too belonged; he was in the family, a child of Abraham; because this is why Jesus came, "To seek and to save the lost" (Luke 19:1-10).

The God of the Bible does not just send us an email. The God of the Bible did not simply set up a new program. Ho logos egeneto sarx: "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." Even after his resurrection and ascension, when the glorified and majestic Jesus appeared to the exiled John on the Isle of Patmos with such splendor that John fell at his feet as though dead, Jesus still was engaged in touching lives: Jesus "placed his right hand on me and said, ‘Do not be afraid.'"

Incarnational Ministry: Some Lessons

Incarnational ministry does not abandon biblical truth and morality.

This should "go without saying"—but it must be said. The idea of incarnational ministry is very popular in some circles of the 21st century church, but it often seems to refer to a willingness to go out and love people without reference to the exclusive truth claims of the Gospel. "Grace without truth." The end effect of that approach will only be to point people to us and not to the health-giving truth of God. What people need is both the message and the compassion embodied in the Word of God. I cannot forget a message passed on to me by Dr. Carl Henry before he died:

The Gospel is the only hope that can change society. But that Gospel must be proclaimed in all its fullness and then lived with all its compassion. No movement can influence society if its leaders constantly are undermining the truthfulness of its foundational documents. But, at the same time, no movement can influence a society unless the truth of those documents is lived in the world and unleashed upon the world.

Here at Trinity, you who are graduating have been able to do what cannot been done in a week-long seminar or weekend workshop—you have been able to study what Timothy George calls "the deeper wisdom." You have been educated in a place in which the Scriptures are the foundation for all we believe and how we live. The Gospel that is at the core of the Scriptures now must be held onto, proclaimed, and lived among those you touch in the world.

Of course, we must live lives consistent with the morality, the justice, and the mercy demanded by God's Word. Paul said we must "live in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ." In our incarnational ministry, we must have the courage to call folks away from sin—to say, as Jesus did, "Go and sin no more!"

There are two errors possible here: In some circles, the tendency among churchgoers is to withdraw from people like those whom Jesus touched in Luke's Gospel. In other circles, the commitment to relevance and to association with those "in the world" often becomes an excuse for engaging in ways of life no different at all from unbelievers. Jesus was constantly in the presence of sinners, but he was without sin. Jesus would say, "The salt dare not lose its saltiness. If it does, it is good for nothing except to be thrown out."

Incarnational ministry must be "authentic" and, therefore, humble.

This kind of ministry must flow from who we are. Jesus remained God even after his human birth. His actions would not be inconsistent with that. But, being God, he became a human servant. We, of course, are not "in very nature God." Jesus' followers are sinners who have been made right with God solely because of the mercy of God. Therefore, our ministry cannot be pride-based. We dare not boast. At the same time, we can have confidence when we deal with people, for we truly have discovered good news through faith in Christ. We have something of eternal benefit to offer them. Boiling it down: incarnational ministry is not so much a matter of techniques learned or programs established. Much more, it is born out of a gratitude for one's own salvation that flows forth into acts of genuine concern for other people—loving as we have been loved. The ministry of being there is compelled by the love of Christ.

Incarnational ministry requires presence.

I am concerned that our Christian faith has become so professionalized and specialized that we cannot simply go to people when they are in need—then see the power of God as we apply the Gospel and live lives reflecting the love of God. This kind of ministry demands that we take time to be with people in need. Sometimes that "presence" is in the company of people with whom we are uncomfortable. But we cannot be "respecters of persons," for God is not. When we become followers of Jesus, we are given the Holy Spirit who lives in us. Therefore, when we go to serve people who need the truth of the Gospel and the love of Christ, we do not go into those places alone. God is with us. But—we must go!

This was put so well at a recent awards banquet of our women's soccer team. Holli Lewis was passing on the baton of leadership to Michelle Smith, and this is what she said: "If I have learned anything about leading people up until this point in my life it's this: If you don't love them, they won't care what you have to say. If you don't walk with them, they won't know that you love them."

Incarnational ministry often demands risks.

I just added this point after the TEDS honors and awards chapel. We heard the report of one of our students from a former Soviet Republic. She had been imprisoned for her faith before enrolling at Trinity. Her home country is a nation of more than four million people, but there are fewer that 300 evangelical Christians. Last year, she learned that 21 believers in her homeland had been seized at a prayer meeting and imprisoned. Among them was her mother. When I heard that, I asked Chaplain Whited next to me, "What does ‘incarnational ministry' look like in that sort of setting?"

Jesus' life shows us what it might look like. The lives of most Christians throughout history show us the way. Countless Christians have lived in times and places in which open and personal Gospel ministry would lead to imprisonment and even death. In Luke, Jesus was willing to risk his personal reputation at a Pharisee's home or in a tax collector's home in order to bring good news to disrespected people. Ultimately, to be able to bring anyone forgiveness and peace, Jesus had to sacrifice his own life—"even death on a cross!" (Philippians 2). For us, incarnational ministry often forces us to move to new locations to bring the message of Jesus to those unreached but whom God has put on our hearts. At other times, it means being willing to associate with the disenfranchised in our old settings when our associates whisper and say, "What is he doing with her?" Ministry in the name of a crucified (though also resurrected) Lord will always mean that there may be risks involved. It's the nature of our calling.

Incarnational ministry seeks a faith response to Jesus.

Jesus did not show compassion for people simply because he wanted them to be numbered among his followers. His compassion was born from genuine love for people. At the same time, he knew that the only eternal hope for people was to respond in repentance and faith in him. Jesus therefore was not content simply to assist in the short-term problems of those he met and then abandon people in their sin. Jesus did not die for sin to leave people trapped. Consistent with that, the deepest longing of incarnational ministers is to have those whose paths cross our own respond in faith to the only one who can help them eternally—Jesus.

Why should we engage in incarnational ministry to those who cross our paths? There are many reasons, but fundamentally because we are followers of Jesus and that's how he lived. Incarnational ministry is a part of living life with the view that everyone who crosses our paths is not a coincidence but an appointment from God—the God who has shown mercy and grace to us and is ready to show it to all who come to him by faith in his Son.

So we send you from this place to do as our education department talks about in its mission statement, "Touching lives—one student at a time." I send you to make a difference in this world through the message of the Gospel, the presence of the Holy Spirit, and the love of Jesus. I send you into a divided world to "light a fire for the cause of Christ." I cannot say it better than Dr. Billy Graham did in his closing challenge to the Amsterdam Conference on Evangelism in 2000:

The story is told of two Christian martyrs in the 16th century who were burned at the stake. As the fire was being lit, one of them said to the other, "Be of good cheer; we shall light a fire that by God's grace shall never be put out." Their bodies were consumed, but their message of Christ's saving grace lives on to this day… So, I do not believe that we should give in to the forces of evil and violence and indifference. Instead, let us light a fire. Let us light a fire that will banish moral and spiritual blight wherever we go and touch lives… Let us light a fire that will banish the poisons of racism and injustice. Let us light a fire of renewed faith in Scripture as the Word of God… Let us light a fire of commitment to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit to the ends of the earth using every resource at our command and every ounce of our strength. Let us light a fire in our generation that by God's grace will never be put out.

We will not light that fire unless we have the fire of God's Gospel in our souls. We will not light that fire unless we break down those walls that separate us and see people "just as folks." We can't light fires until we are willing to get up close enough to those who need to be made alive to say what is true and, at the same time, show them the love of Jesus.

So go, "be there," point people to Jesus, touch lives, and light a fire to the glory of God.