Being Sent…Here?

Sometimes all it takes is another person's perspective to help you see your own life in a new way.

Last month, I met a fellow worship leader, Jeremiah, who was visiting San Antonio from California. As we talked about the winding paths that led us into worship leadership, he shared that there was a time, while attending worship leadership school, when he had a very low opinion of the local church. He believed his calling was to become a missionary.

While I've never felt a strong pull toward missionary work, I could certainly relate to the underlying assumption: that there must be something bigger, somewhere beyond here, that God is calling me to.

After all, the Great Commission begins with the word "go," not "stay": "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations..." (Matthew 28:19).

The thing is, I am married, quite happily, with two young and very dependent children. My wife Taylor and I have built a life here, with jobs, friendships, and a church community we love. The mobility I once had simply isn't available to me in the same way anymore. At times, that can be a source of frustration.

But Jeremiah's perspective helped me see things differently.

During his visit, he was struck by the ways our church connects with our neighbors through Charis Park, the coffee trailer, and our nature-based preschool. What stood out to him wasn't a ministry program or outreach strategy. It was the simple fact that people were finding belonging, connection, and community in ordinary ways.

His observations reminded me that I have roots here too. Perhaps those roots are not an obstacle to God's calling, but one of the ways I am able to participate in it.

Maybe being sent isn't about distance after all.

This summer, our staff is reading a book called Unreasonable Hospitality, which argues that hospitality begins with paying attention. You can't care for people you don't notice. You can't love people you don't see.

As I reflected on that idea, I was struck by how closely it resembles the way Jesus moved through the world.

It's easy to forget that nearly all of the recorded events of Jesus' life took place within about 65 miles of his hometown of Nazareth.

He traveled, but he moved at what some have called the "3 mph speed of love." Jesus moved at the speed of relationship. He noticed people others overlooked. He welcomed interruptions. He made time for conversations that seemed insignificant to everyone but the person standing in front of him.

It also brought to mind a piece of wisdom Scott shared this past Sunday, one that was passed down from his father:

"You never lock eyes with another human being who doesn't matter to God."

Perhaps that's where being sent begins.

Not with crossing an ocean, but with noticing a neighbor.

Not with looking farther away, but with paying closer attention to the people already around us.

Truthfully, moving at the speed of relationship is challenge enough for me these days—to be fully present, to notice people rather than rush past them, and to see each person as someone who matters deeply to God.

In this stage of life, I think I'll keep focusing on doing a better job of that. I've still got a long way to go.