As I sit at my desk this morning preparing to write this blog, I am faced with what seems like a million and one distractions. Some are external—people knocking on the door, tech problems in GCS chapel. Others are completely internal—I wonder what’s happening in the news? Do I have any emails in the inbox? What book do I want to start next? Oh look, a squirrel.

I suppose if I wanted to assuage the issue, I could remind myself of 1 Corinthians 10:13, that I’m not the only one who deals with this issue. Everyone has their own tendencies to distraction. I’m not alone! And it’s true. I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t have their own brand of temptations that draw their attention away from the tasks facing them.

And what’s true at an individual level is especially true at a corporate level as well. After all, an organization, whether it’s a government entity, a corporation, a family, or a church, is made up of individuals. If they can each be distracted away from focus, image how easy it is for a group of people—a large group of people—to be distracted away from the focus for which that organization exists.

The term that’s been employed to describe this phenomenon is mission creep. Originally, it was used in the context of military operations, but since then it’s been applied to a range of organizational fields. The whole idea of mission creep is that there is a tendency in organizations to gradually broaden or shift the original objectives beyond its original mission.

Now, if we were talking about any old organization, then we could talk about mission creep in a purely pragmatic sense. Of course it’s undesirable for an organization to get away from its original mission. Especially in the nonprofit sector, this ends up hurting the organization. Resources get stretched too thin, core purpose gets sidelined, and the mission becomes overly complex and ultimately unattainable.

But when we’re talking about the church, we can’t just think about pragmatics. Sure, all these points are equally true when it comes to the church. No church wants to unnecessary stretch its resources, distract from its core purpose, and overly complicate its mission. But those are side issues—unfortunate ramifications. The church faces a much larger danger when it starts into mission creep. The mission of the church, after all, is singular. It is to make disciples, baptizing them and instructing them in everything pertaining to life and godliness in Christ Jesus (Matt. 28:19-20). That mission is centered on the gospel. Without the gospel, the mission is unattainable. And as it just so happens, when mission creep does occur in the church, it happens at the gospel level. It happens to the very thing that makes the church unique, powerful, and ultimately unstoppable—the gospel message.

Since its inception in Acts 2, the church has always faced the temptation and tendency of mission creep—even before there was a label to slap on it. Even in the early church, there was the temptation to package mission and ministry into something culturally acceptable. The city of Corinth, for instance, was a cultural crossroads of Hellenistic thought and culture—the wanna-be-Rome of the Greek world. It was a place where human philosophies competed for supremacy and oratorical eloquence were highly esteemed. Yet in that very context, the apostle Paul wrote the believers in that city by reminding them that “Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power” (1 Cor. 1:17).

You see, Paul recognized the danger instantly. How would one make the church and its mission relevant in a town like Corinth? The city loved oratory. They loved eloquent words and wisdom and philosophy. But the gospel was none of these things—not to them. It wasn’t eloquent. It wasn’t “wise.” It was, in fact, “folly” (1 Cor. 1:18). Mission creep in Corinth would mean something far more profound than getting stretched too thin. It would mean making the gospel sound “wise” according to the wisdom of the world. That, Paul says, would make the gospel powerless.

The church is guaranteed to win a host of people with a message founded on human wisdom. That’s why the gospel message is so precisely defined. It’s not a message that appeals to human wisdom. It defies human wisdom. It offends human sensibilities. It strips everyone of any vestige of pride and self-credit, and it calls them to come before God naked with nothing but their sin in their hands. It calls them to admit that they have no ability to affect any change in their relationship with God. It calls them to lay that sin down at the feet of God who became a man and then died and then rose from the dead and then ascended into the clouds.

No, you don’t win a lot of people with that kind of message. Or at least you wouldn’t expect to. But here’s where things get really interesting. Somehow, people still come to believe. Not everyone, but some. And when they do, you know it can’t be because the message appealed to their sense of human wisdom. The only explanation is that it is the power of God. That’s Paul’s point. He didn’t come to Corinth preaching a gospel using eloquent words of wisdom because then there’s no power in the cross. The power of the cross is demonstrated when people believe the message despite how offensive it is.

For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, ‘I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.’ Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe.” (1 Corinthians 1:18–21)

Thus, Paul can say later in chapter 2 verse 1,

“When I came to you, brothers, I did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.” (1 Corinthians 2:1–5).

Paul fought hard to ensure that there was no mission creep in his ministry. There were certainly opportunities for it. But it’s telling that he made it a point to stick strictly to the proclamation of the gospel message: “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (v. 2). 

The church needs to take a cue from Paul’s singular focus. There’s far too many opportunities—far too many distractions—that can take the church into mission creep. Inevitably, the church thinks it can walk the tight rope of gospel integrity while entertaining these distractions out of the hope that it will make the church and its mission more relevant, more meaningful, and more fruitful. That tightrope is a fiction. It’s like a carnival game. You’re never going to win. The gospel loses out every time because it’s always the impediment.

Sometimes, the most powerful theological excerpts show up in the places you least expect them. I’m concluding a reading project of an academic work by James Hamilton Jr., who wrote a biblical theology a few years back called God’s Glory in Salvation through Judgment. As he wrapped up his conclusions on the center of the theology of the New Testament epistles, he made this powerful observation:

The authors of these twenty-one letters are radically united in the proclamation of bizarre ideas. To see this, let us engage in a bit of contrastive analysis, contemplating what these authors did not do and what their letters do not advocate. Rome was not their kingdom, and they were not trying to make it home. They sought the city that is to come. Not one of these authors gave his life to address the systemic injustices of the Roman Empire by means of political reform. Not one of these authors went the way of Josephus and sought to cozy up to the emperor, though Paul seems to have had opportunities to seek such “influence” with some high-ranking officials. Not one of these authors did or said anything about trying to stop Rome from fighting its wars. Not one of them championed the idea that the government should take money from the rich and redistribute it equally to the poor, nor did they leave the ministry to advocate a government of greater fiscal responsibility, lowered taxes, and increased national security. Not one of these authors taught that the way to change the world is by initiating a universal, government-funded education program. Not one of these authors was out to make as much money as he possibly could. Not one of these authors embraced one of the popular philosophies of the day, nor did they seek to synthesize the message of Jesus with the spirit of their age. None of them advocated higher moral standards in society at large (outside the church), nor did they lobby for universal health care or a revised definition of marriage that would legitimate same-sex unions. None of them seem to have cared whether anyone reading their letters would be perceived by the broader culture as hip, savvy, chic, or cool. They had a different program. (Hamilton, God’s Glory in Salvation through Judgment, 537).

Hamilton is absolutely right; and he basically indicts most of Christendom for the last 2000 years, but particularly the church in the 20^th and 21^st centuries. Every permutation of distraction in the church’s history has come down to a failure by the church to have confidence in the singular power of the gospel to save. The gospel doesn’t seem to be enough. Thus, Hamilton continues,

These authors believed that the decisive event in the story of the world had taken place. God loved the world by sending his Son, condemned sin in the flesh of Jesus, poured out all his wrath on Jesus at the cross, and accomplished salvation through that ultimate display of justice. God raised Jesus from the dead, and Jesus commissioned his followers to make disciples by proclaiming the good news. How did they go about carrying out this commission? They all basically did the same thing. None appears to have sought to carry out the commission through political or educational institutions. According to Acts, they simply told people, whether groups or individuals, who God is, what he had accomplished in Jesus, and what this implied for them. God accomplished salvation through judgment in Jesus, and the implication for every auditor of the message is that they would either believe and be saved or disobey (be unpersuaded by) the gospel and be judged. (Ibid., 537-8).

There’s a million-and-one other things the church could be doing right now that would seem, according to human wisdom, to be much more compelling and relevant in the world. It’s always been that way. And the church has always been adept that pursuing these distractions to the detriment of the only thing that makes it unique, powerful, and unstoppable: the proclamation of the good news. Social justice, morality, political equality—these causes seem like they would help the church accomplish its mission. They won’t. The gospel doesn’t need any help. It is, as Paul says, “the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes” (Rom. 1:16). It’s more powerful than any government, politician, or lobbyist. It reaches where no other agenda can penetrate—the sinful, human heart. 

The church will have numerous opportunities to stand for righteousness and demonstrate biblical morality and justice. But make no mistake, we can’t confuse the effects of the gospel with the mission of the church. The church has a singular mission—make disciples of all nations. That mission is accomplished through a singular message. And the church will make it very clear whether it believes that message alone is sufficient to accomplish the mission it has been given. We must be willing, like Paul, to address people with the resolve to “know nothing among them but Jesus Christ and him crucified.”