Rediscovering the Mission

Rediscovering Lost Treasures - Final Post

“Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. Neither is love content with barely working no evil to our neighbour. It continually incites us to do good: as we have time, and opportunity, to do good in every possible kind, and in every possible degree to all men.”
“The Law Established through Faith” ~John Wesley.

Mission is not an extracurricular activity for the church—it is its very heartbeat. If the previous treasures we’ve explored were beams in the great house of Wesleyan faith, then mission is the Spirit fire in its hearth, animating all the rest. This final installment brings us full circle: from a distorted compassionless image of Christian identity to the rediscovery of a sacred vocation. To live eucharistically, as Henri Nouwen described, is to be taken, blessed, broken, and given for the life of the world.

At the heart of the Christian story is not merely a call to go, but an invitation to join the eternal movement of God’s love. In the passional church, (grounded in the passio Dei) we locate our understanding of mission not in institutional strategies or church growth metrics, but in the very nature of God—self-giving, perichoretic, and relational.

The Trinity is not a static doctrine to be believed, but a dynamic communion to be entered. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit exist in an eternal dance of mutual indwelling, each making space for the other in perfect love. This divine movement is missional at its core: the Father sends the Son, the Son and Father send the Spirit, and the Trinity sends the church.

Mission, then, is not something we initiate but a reality we join… an ever-widening circle of all-inclusive love that flows outward from the very life of God. To participate in mission is to be swept into this divine rhythm, where love overflows into the world and beckons us to follow.

Perichoresis in Practice

Perichoresis is a theological term rooted in the Greek words peri (“around”) and chōreō (“to make room” “to go forward,” “to give way,” or “to encompass.”), originally used by early Church Fathers like John of Damascus to describe the dynamic, loving relationship among the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It refers to the mutual indwelling and interpenetration of the three persons of the Trinity—distinct yet fully united in a divine communion of self-giving love.

Rather than a static doctrine, perichoresis portrays the Trinity as a living, relational dance where each person makes space for the other in perfect unity. This concept not only shapes our understanding of God’s nature but also serves as a model for how the church is called to live—relational, inclusive, and missionally sent into the world.

We saw this divine rhythm come alive last week at Family Table, a meal-based fresh expression within the recovery community. In preparation for Mother’s Day, our team posed a simple, soul-stirring prompt: “What wisdom or spiritual gems were passed down from your mother—or for those of us who didn’t have a mom, a mother figure?” What unfolded wasn’t a sermon, but a sacred conversation. Around tables filled with comfort food, people shared stories that were both hilarious and holy. One guest recalled being warned, “Stop doing that or I’ll whip your ass”—while another unknowingly quoted scripture their mother instilled in them, a version of: “Bad company corrupts good character.” Others spoke of inherited faith, how a praying grandmother or a resilient single mom handed down not just survival, but belief.

These were not polished testimonies, they were raw, unfiltered windows into real life. And yet, the Spirit moved through every word. In this moment, mission wasn’t a program. It was perichoresis in practice: mutual indwelling, love making room, strangers becoming kin. No one was required to believe in order to belong. Each person was seen, heard, and honored. That’s the kind of church the Trinity sends into the world—an ever-widening circle of grace that flows around tables, not just behind pulpits.

Movemental Methodism

Methodism was born as a missional movement. The Wesleys rejected the passive piety of Quietism, which waited on inner prompting before acting. Instead, they embraced a dynamic spirituality rooted in intentionality: what Scripture commands, the Spirit already affirms. In this conviction, they moved outward in three directions: to the unreached, to the renewal of the Church, and to the reform of the nation.

In sociological terms, this triadic movement parallels Talcott Parsons’ concept of system maintenance, adaptation, and integration, mission in Methodism adapted to new social needs, integrated diverse peoples, and maintained communal vitality. It was praxis-oriented and alive with the moral imagination that Émile Durkheim described as the sacred energizing of communal life.

Durkheim referred to this as “collective effervescence,” a heightened state of shared emotion and unity experienced when people gather for a common purpose, especially in religious rituals. In these moments, ordinary individuals and objects can be imbued with sacred significance, becoming symbols of the group’s collective identity. This shared emotional intensity not only reinforces social bonds but also strengthens the sense of belonging and purpose within the community.

Early Methodists embodied this collective effervescence through their passionate, participatory gatherings and a clear, outward-facing commitment to mission. John Wesley’s field preaching, the formation of class meetings, and the practice of singing hymns in public spaces created emotionally charged, communal experiences that united people across class lines and ignited a shared sense of purpose. These gatherings weren’t passive or performative—they were deeply interactive and infused with a sense of divine presence that turned ordinary locations like fields, homes, and street corners into sacred spaces.

The resulting sacred energy propelled participants into action, forming tightly bonded communities with a strong commitment to personal holiness and social transformation. This collective spiritual fervor didn’t end with emotional experience… it translated into mission: reaching the unreached, renewing the church, and reforming society. Early Methodism, then, was movemental, powered by the sacred charge of collective effervescence, mobilized for the missio Dei.

Compassion-Centered Communities in a Networked Age

Fast forward to today: the missional impulse finds new embodiment in Fresh Expressions of Church. These communities are radically inclusive, locally accessible, transfiguring in nature, and deeply connectional. Sociologist Manuel Castells describes the emerging “network society” as the dominant social structure of the digital age. Fresh Expressions operate precisely in this mode—spiritual ecosystems that are decentralized, adaptive, and webbed into everyday life.

The values of inclusivity and accessibility respond directly to what sociologist Robert Wuthnow calls the “restructuring of American religion”—a shift from tradition-bound denominations to choice-based spiritual marketplaces. But these aren’t market solutions. They are a return to something far older: communities rooted in grace, not grasping; in belonging, not barriers.

Yet this mission cannot be separated from compassion. Again, missio Dei (the mission of God) must be grounded in passio Dei (the passion of God). The passion of Christ reframes how we engage the world—not with conquest, but with co-suffering love. As a quote often attributed to Dorothy Day reminds us, “Our problems stem from our acceptance of this filthy, rotten system.” Day wasn’t one advocating for abandonment… she was calling for incarnational resistance through radical compassion. Mission divorced from this pathos becomes performative, even violent. We must rediscover our mission as love-in-motion.

Orthodoxy, Orthopraxy, Orthopathy

John Wesley called Methodism a “religion of the heart.” In sociological terms, this resonates with the late Peter Berger’s insight that religion offers a sacred canopy—a shelter from meaninglessness. But that canopy collapses when orthodoxy (right belief) and orthopraxy (right action) are severed from orthopathy (right passion). Without compassion, doctrine becomes dogma, and discipline becomes domination.

The church must realign its mission with a compassionate heart. It is not enough to preach the Great Commission if we neglect the Great Commandment. As Monika Ardelt’s three-dimensional wisdom model suggests, transformation arises not just from cognitive insight or ethical action, but from compassion, what she calls “sympathetic insight into the deeper meaning of life events” (Podcast interview with Dr. Ardelt here!)

Communal Healing in a Fragmented World

We live in a world wounded by disconnection—what Durkheim warned as anomie, the breakdown of social norms that leads to despair, isolation, and suicide. Fresh Expressions become sociological countermeasures: they reweave the torn social fabric through community, vulnerability, and love. They create “belonging spaces” where trauma is named, recovery is possible, and the crucified God is near.

Some of these expressions explicitly engage in public theology—addressing racism, inequality, incarceration, and LGBTQ exclusion. Others work quietly, helping people form identity and meaning in a late modernity where traditional sources of authority have collapsed.

Whether noisy or quiet, every fresh expression is a micro-mission station, restoring what Charles Taylor calls the “social imaginary”—the shared understanding of what is good, just, and possible. They awaken not just individuals, but neighborhoods and systems, to the sacred worth already within them.

Taken, Blessed, Broken, Given

To rediscover the mission is to remember that the church does not exist for itself. It is the only institution on earth that exists for those who are not yet part of it. The eucharistic shape of mission—taken, blessed, broken, and given—calls us to embody Christ in every nook and cranny of society. Mission is not a department. It is our DNA. It is our heartbeat.

And so, we end where we started this series. What would a renewed mission look like where you are? In your community, your coffee shop, your prison chapel, your digital group chat, your block?

We are called to nothing less than a passional missiology—a life where the wounds of Christ become the wisdom of the church. And when we join in that work, not only do we rediscover the treasures of our traditions—we become treasure-bearers for the world.

What treasures will you carry forward?

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It is possible to be compassionate and not wise, but it is not possible to be wise and not compassionate. I began my research journey at the University of Florida studying the collapse of compassion in USAmerican society and its relationship with religious disaffiliation. However, as I followed the research trails, I discovered the underlying crisis is the decline of wisdom, of which compassion is one dimension. Congregations have historically been vital social centers for the intergenerational transmission of wisdom, helping their members and communities experience greater wellbeing. How does their decline and disappearance impact the social fabric of the United States? How do we measure wisdom, individually and collectively? What new missional metrics do we need to understand and encourage vitality in the 21st century? Stay tuned for the new Substack series… “What a Fool Believes."

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