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If you don't know who I am, my name is Mike and I'm one of the pastors here. It's my privilege to be launching our brand new campaign this afternoon. If you don't know what it is, you can look behind me in 12-foot letters: Send Me. Say it after me — send me.
We have a phrase we use here at BCC. When we talk about our teaching series, we don't like calling them series, because when we come to church, it's not like Netflix. We don't want to come and binge church. We call them teaching campaigns, with the foreknowledge that when we come into church, we don't just want to tickle ears. We come to church to get equipped to be sent out. Amen.
Our umbrella verse for this campaign is found in Isaiah 6:8. I won't camp there today, but you might want to flip open your Bibles or your device and highlight it, because it will be foundational for the coming weeks.
Let me give you a little context. Isaiah is in a moment where he has a vision of God being worshiped by angels. He sees God seated on his throne. And God speaks:
"I need someone to go to the people on my behalf. Who will go?"
And there's a tumbleweed. The angels continue worshiping. Isaiah, I imagine, is feeling a little awkward — looking to his left and right. In my imagination, I hear God say it a few times, almost looking at Isaiah like, this is your moment. This is the part where you speak up. Then Isaiah catches himself and says:
"Lord, here am I. Send me."
And Isaiah goes back to his people and becomes the very spokesperson of God.
When we read the Old Testament and see these prophets, we can think they're God's special, chosen, elect people. And that is partly true in the Old Testament. But when we get to the New Testament — and indeed when Jesus went to the cross and the veil was torn — 1 Corinthians 3:16 says:
"Don't you now know that you yourselves are the temple of the Holy Spirit?"
It's the people of God in their entirety who have been sent. Turn to your neighbor and say: I have been sent.
We've just taken a month we called Mission May. We heard from our missionaries Matt and Ellie in Kuran, in the Philippines. Last week we heard from the amazing Jordan and Tash, a son and daughter of BCC on the mission field in Japan. One thing Jordan said last week is really important: to be on mission doesn't just mean going to the ends of the earth.
Each and every one of us are on mission right now. We have been appointed. We have been commissioned. We have been ordained to be God's spokesperson wherever and whenever we are.
To help set up this campaign, I want us to go back to Pentecost. Even as Pentecostals, it's important to ground this properly: Pentecost was never meant to be a moment we simply look back on and celebrate. Pentecost was a beginning. It was a start of something. Pentecost was a moment where God didn't just do something in people — he also did something to send people.
And 2,000-plus years later, that invitation given at Pentecost is the same for you and me as it was for Peter and the other 119. God doesn't just want to send the Holy Spirit to do something in us. It's not just about what we can get, me and mine, and how I feel.
This is difficult, because in our culture — whether subconsciously or consciously — even when we approach faith, we ask ourselves, "What's in it for me? What can I get this week that's going to serve me?" We church-hop because this week the pastor was a bit off, so we'll try New Testament next week, or the Baptist, or the Church of England. The worship team sounded a bit ropey, so we'll give BCC a miss for two weeks and come back and give them another chance.
But church was never meant to be just about what we can get. When the Spirit came, absolutely he came for us — he helps us live a godly life, he helps us control our flesh, he helps us do all the things Jesus has called us to do. But he didn't come to serve us.
The Bible says the Holy Spirit came as an advocate. The Greek word is parakletos — in some translations, helper. Here's the thing: in our consumeristic society, we can see the Holy Spirit not as a helper but as the help. There's a subtle difference.
It's when we come in feeling the worship, the goosebumps rising, and we're like, "Yeah, I'm in." But church is so much more than that.
Go back 2,000 years to that upper room at Pentecost. Imagine what it would have felt like. 120 people sat in the middle of Jerusalem. It would have been hot. Stuffy. This was before Lynx and Dove — so it would have smelt. A proper Pentecostal church. They're huddled in. Scared. Anticipating. Waiting. Double-guessing themselves: Did Jesus really tell us to wait?
And then that word I love: suddenly. Suddenly the Spirit came in power and they began to speak in other tongues.
Here's what's fascinating — the first thing the believers did when the Spirit fell. They didn't have a two-step Pentecostal hop. They didn't have a worship set more anointed than yesterday's. They didn't have a sermon that made them feel good. The first thing the Spirit did was break them out of their four walls.
The first act of the early church wasn't to have a brilliant meeting. It broke them out of the confinement of their church building.
There's a phrase: "You look all dressed up. Are you ready to go?" If the church had never broken out of that Pentecostal room, it would have been all dressed up with nowhere to go.
Unless you're an Arsenal fan, you might not relate to this. A few weeks ago, tens of thousands — millions dare I say — of Arsenal fans sat on their settees across the UK. Some fans don't just put on the Arsenal top. They put on the socks, the shorts. I can imagine some sitting in the living room in football boots and shin pads, cheering on the 11 men on the pitch.
They're all dressed up, but they've got nowhere to go. Being a fan is important, but being a player is far more important. I love the phraseology Arsenal fans use: "We've won the cup." You haven't done anything! You paid your TV subscription. And if you dodged your fire stick, maybe you're not even a proper Christian — maybe that's the Lord's condemnation. You haven't won anything.
The church can be like that. We can get all dressed up in the Spirit. We can speak in tongues. We can hop and dance and clap and jump, but actually go nowhere at all. We can have a great meeting, sing the bridge over and over, feel the goosebumps. But at the end of the day, what does that matter? The Spirit wasn't just here to give you a nice hour and a half in church. The Spirit has a commission and a mission for each of us.
In Luke 6:13, Jesus calls his first disciples. The first thing he does is commission them as apostles. He sends them. And we today in 2026 are being given the same authority, the same gift, the same power. Jesus said in 1 John 4:4:
"The same power that raised him from the dead is the same power that lives within you."
We've been given exactly the same stuff. And yet we stay very confined and very safe in our church walls.
Don't hear what I'm not saying. Church in the gathered state is really important — but it is a part of faith, not the point of faith.
If the Spirit had fallen and given those 120 believers a fantastic meeting, it would have been fantastic for them. But we wouldn't be sitting here today. They might have had a great 5, 10, 20 years. But if the church had never gotten out of the walls, they would have had a nice experience that changed absolutely nothing.
Across the UK there are church buildings — beautiful, strategic, majestic buildings in city centers — that used to be thriving with people on fire for God. Now they're derelict, empty, being sold off to curry restaurants or converted into mosques or temples. Why? Because the believers there got all dressed up but never went anywhere. They had a great experience for a time, but it never translated past what was happening in the room.
Can you imagine in 50 years, if we don't get fired up and filled up to live out the great commission, what will BCC be? Will it just be knocked down and become flats or an office block? We've got a job to do, church.
When we receive the promises God gives but don't steward them as he instructs, we begin to pervert his purposes. Yes, God sends his Spirit to empower us, comfort us, and help us live godly lives. But that's only a part of what the Spirit does.
Jesus said the power wasn't for a great meeting. What was the power for? To be witnesses. Acts 1:8:
"You will receive power to be my witnesses."
Not power to have a great room or a great worship band or encouraging preaching — but to be witnesses.
In Luke 6:13, Jesus calls his first disciples but then sends them out as apostles. That word carries so much baggage today — good and bad. If I say the word apostle, what comes to mind? Sent. Good. Man of God.
I remember first hearing the word apostle. I was brought up in a church home. Around age 10 or 11, I turned on the God Channel. (Anyone remember the God Channel? If you were a Christian kid, you couldn't watch Nickelodeon — you had to do at least an hour of God Channel before the cartoons.) I remember turning it on and seeing this man who was an apostle. I had to shield my eyes because his teeth were so white and his throne was so gold. Beautiful suit. His wife had more hair than the height of her — big hair. And this apostle came on talking about sowing your $10 seed.
When you talk to people outside the church, apostle doesn't have good connotations anymore. It's been skewed. It's become exploitative.
When Jesus called the first apostles, Peter probably didn't have Turkey teeth, a big gold chain, or a gold throne. Peter was just a ragtag fisherman. Matthew was a tax collector.
Apostle wasn't originally a church word. It was a cultural term Jesus borrowed. Apostle literally means sent one. In ancient Greek and Roman times, an apostle was a messenger who carried the authority and responsibility of the one who sent them. Think of an army general, or the emperor, empowering a messenger with his full authority to be his hands and feet wherever the message went.
This is what Jesus was communicating: You are not just followers — that's part of it — but I also give you the same authority and responsibility that the Father has given me.
We have that today. Now. In 2026.
In the modern church, we can equate being sent not just with being a follower of Jesus, but with being employed by the church. That's a misreading of scripture.
A key passage is Ephesians 4:11–12:
"Now these are the gifts that Christ gave to the church: the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, and the pastors and teachers."
That's weighty. And what we have done in modern history is elevated these five offices as the important people. We give them titles, status, salaries — and somewhere it got lost in translation that ministry became about empowering these five gifts. Apostles at the top, prophets next, and the church underneath platforming their ministry.
That's not what scripture says.
Christ gave the apostles, prophets, evangelists, shepherds, and teachers as gifts to the church. It's not that the congregation serves the five-fold ministry — the five-fold ministry is called to serve the church.
Look at verse 12. Their responsibility is:
"...to equip God's people to do his work and build up the church."
We've made the congregation serve the apostles, prophets, evangelists, shepherds, and teachers so they can build the church. We've got it back to front.
How we do church doesn't always help. We seat people looking at a stage and put one or two on it. You'll never hear me refer to this as the stage. It's a platform. I come on the platform to help equip the congregation so we can stage you in your frontline ministry.
So don't get it twisted: the special few on the platform aren't those chosen by God to be over you. This isn't hierarchy. Those on the platform serve the congregation to build his church. And when we say build the church, it's not bricks and mortar — it's building the kingdom of God beyond our walls. We have a city. A country. A world.
The staff aren't bosses. They're servants to the congregation.
Let me introduce a phrase — one Becky's already used: frontline. I believe each of us is called to frontline ministry. The Bible teaches this.
Think of soldiers. They go to a battlefield to advance the interests of the kingdom they serve. Church, we have the same responsibility. Every man, woman, and child in this room has a frontline. Not guns and bombs, but the Word of God.
Your frontline could be:
Take 10 seconds. What is your frontline? Where do you spend the majority of your time?
Some of you are thinking, "My frontline was..." — because you're retired. We have an unhealthy attitude to retirement in our society. We treat retiring like expiring — like bread left in the cupboard too long that no longer serves a purpose. That's bad theology.
When we retire, we don't expire in the kingdom of God. We might stop working a role, but we still have a purpose. We don't believe in retirement in the kingdom. We believe in redeployment.
We need:
Society pushes people toward retirement, gives them a mug for their service, and expects them to put their feet up. Not in the kingdom. We need your expertise. We need your wisdom. We need you redeployed.
In the first service we had Keith Potter share. He retired at 80 — looks about 60 — and he's now 87. His prayer was that the Lord would find a suitable buyer for his business so he could use his free time to best serve the kingdom. That's the attitude we need.
Let me introduce you to a man called Neil Hudson. He's a genius — PhD in theology, Bible college lecturer, worked for the London Institute of Contemporary Christianity while leading a church in Salford. He wrote a book called Imagine Church, all around this idea of frontlines, using a really helpful grid.
We all have 168 hours in a week. Doesn't matter if you're old or young, black or white, rich or poor.
The super Christians might give 10 hours a week to "the things of God" — a couple of hours at church, 20 minutes of devotions daily, the prayer meeting, a life group. That's about 8% of waking time.
The average Christian probably gives about 6 hours a week — two hours of church, the prayer meeting, 15–20 minutes of daily devotions. That's about 5%. And if you're thinking, I'm not even an average Christian — it's fine, there's no condemnation in the house of the Lord.
But here's the thing: we spend most of our life on the frontline, yet we box all our faith into that 5%. We've built an invisible wall between the sacred stuff (Bible reading, worship songs, prayer meeting) and the secular stuff.
When we box God into just 5% of our life, we box him out of the other 95%.
Your frontline really, really matters. Monday through Saturday, and the rest of Sunday after church, matters.
I know this preaches well, and you might think: "It's motivational for a pastor to say this, but God doesn't really care that I sit for eight hours in a shared office. God doesn't really care that I work the checkouts at M&S. God doesn't really care that I stack shelves at Tesco. God doesn't really care about the course I'm doing at college."
I want to tell you — God absolutely cares. He cares about the big things and the minute details of where you are, when you are, all the time.
Here's a fallacy we fall into: we treat our frontlines like a waiting room for real ministry. Look at the church rotas. There's no waiting list on kids ministry. But the worship team? Pages of people waiting.
We can sit at our desks week on week praying that the Lord would quicken Kev's spirit to jump us up the list of 50 people waiting so we can finally do our real ministry. With that attitude, we're boxing God out of so much more than what he wants to do.
Yes, God gifts and equips us. But he doesn't just want to use you with a microphone on a platform. God wants to use you on your frontline every day, every waking moment. More than that — he's saying, "I need someone to go for me to this frontline. Who will go?" And he's waiting for you to say, "Here I am, Lord. Send me."
If you don't hear anything else this morning, hear this:
Most of us do not need to do more.
We're all busy. All stretched. All stressed. We just need to see what we already do in a totally different light. We don't need another rota, another platform, another thing. We simply need to see what we already do through the eyes of Jesus.
This is what being a disciple means. This is what it means to be a sent one. What would Jesus do in my shoes? If he was where I was — if he was me? That's discipleship in a nutshell.
Paul writes to the church in Colossae:
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart as if working for the Lord, not for your human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving."
See what you do day to day — retirement, college, school, work — not as doing more for Jesus, but doing it in a different light. How can I serve him here? How can I be his hands and feet here?
One of my favorite people from my old church in Luton was a lady called Angela. She's from the Caribbean, in her mid-60s but looks about 14 — Caribbean genes are good. Angela is the most amazing worship leader. When she opens her mouth to sing, the goosebumps are waiting to jump out.
A few years ago Angela was given a bad heart diagnosis. She had to back off worship team, stop working for a season, go in for surgery. But when she came back to fighting fitness — not completely healed, but able to do more — she knew Jesus wanted her to be hands and feet in her community.
She looked around: "What can I do, Lord?" And she ended up sitting on a checkout at M&S in Harpenden. Very posh Harpenden — that's why it's got an M&S.
After her trial shift, her manager asked how it went. Angela said:
"It went really good. But here's what I want to tell you. Although you're my manager and I respect you and I'll listen to you, I must tell you that my real boss is Jesus."
I would have loved to see that conversation. She continued:
"I respect you and I'll do what you say — but Jesus is my boss. And should I get the job, as people come and I'm scanning their shopping, I'll speak to them. I won't just speak — I'll ask them how they are. I'll tell them Jesus loves them, and ask if there's anything I can pray for. I know that's a bit unorthodox and might make the queue a bit bigger — is that okay?"
The manager was a bit weird but said, "Yeah, fine."
Every Friday — she can only work one shift — Angela drives up to Harpenden, sits at the till at M&S, and commits her shift to Jesus. She's not just doing a function. She's being commissioned into vocation. She's not just scanning shopping — she's interceding. She's ministering. She's pastoring a whole community walking through M&S who may never darken the door of a church, who don't know the words to the worship songs, who will never listen to a preacher. But Angela is pastoring them. She's a sent one.
There can never be a one-size-fits-all category for mission. When we see mission as only the evangelist's job, we get it wrong. We scapegoat our way out by saying, "I'm not called to be an evangelist — that person is." You don't get a get-out-of-jail-free card. When you're saved, you're also sent.
Remember Ephesians 4:11–12. The evangelist's scriptural job isn't just to tell people about Jesus — it's to train the believers to do the telling. You can have the heart of an evangelist and be naturally gifted at sharing your faith, but the office of evangelist equips the church for that work.
So when we picture evangelism, we picture someone on a soapbox next to the bull in Grand Central waving a Bible. That's one way. But it's not the only way.
Sometimes you don't even need your Bible. You just need to act as Jesus would act if he were there. That's evangelism. And when people ask you why you're different — because they will — that's when you tell them about Jesus.
I don't have a specific prayer response this morning, but I'd love us to scan the code you'll see. Over the coming weeks you'll notice a new segment in our service called "This Time Tomorrow."
As Pentecostals, we're a people of experience and encounter. But historically, something equally important to us is testimony — getting up and encouraging one another by what Jesus is doing. We want to hear about where you are this time tomorrow — Monday morning, Tuesday morning, Wednesday morning.
Four questions on the form:
About 17 years ago, in 2009, I stood on a platform in a church three miles away. The 700 or so people there stood up and prayed for me because I was being sent to Bible college. The whole church took a moment to commission me. That was fantastic.
This morning we commissioned Adiola, Kerianne, and the kids team into their ministry. It's important. It's strategic.
But why aren't we doing that when someone gets a new job? Why, when someone retires, aren't we getting them up on the platform and commissioning them into their new season — their redeployment of sharing wisdom on new frontlines? When you get a new job at the QE as a nurse, why don't we get you on the platform and commission you into your occupation as a sent one? Or into school, or college?
It'll probably be difficult to do every week. But we want to be here in church when God is sending you into a new place. And that doesn't just have to be the mission field or Bible college. It can be anywhere — because each and every one of us have been sent.
So stand, church. We want to make this platform a platform of commission — into schools, colleges, office blocks, hospitals, GP surgeries, supermarkets, and retirement. We want to be here for you where you are, when you are, and support and pray for you.
If you feel God is putting something on your heart — if you want us to commission you as a church — scan the QR code or tap the tag and let us know.
Lord Jesus, my prayer this morning for all of us is that we wouldn't feel convicted that we have to do more — but Lord, please give us new eyes and fresh ears to see what you are doing where we already are. Give us a different perspective, a heavenly perspective. Father, a new commission in our offices and schools and colleges. Lord Jesus, let us know that we are sent, we are commissioned, we are ordained, and we are called to be your hands and feet wherever and whenever we are. Amen.
If you're sitting in your pew right now thinking, "Lord, I feel really passionless about where you've got me on my frontline" — if you need to pray or be prayed for, we're not going to rush off. Come to the altar. You know who you are. It could be a majority of us.
Maybe you don't need a passion for that job or place. Maybe you just need to say, "God, revitalize me. Pour out a passion afresh. Stir me up again. Put me on fire for you." That's the thing that will ignite the passion for where he's got you.
Come now. Move off your seat. Don't wait. Tell your flesh, "No, we're moving. We're stirring up the passion. We're waking up." Because church, we have to be careful — a little folding of the hands, a little slumbering off to sleep, and the enemy steps up and has his way. I don't want the enemy having his way in any place I was supposed to take territory for the Lord. Come now, as a sign of surrender.
"Whatever you do, do it as for the Lord. Work at it with all your heart as if working for Jesus, not for human masters, since you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving."
This has been comically weaponized in the church, hasn't it? We joke, "Don't worry, your reward's in heaven." We try to get you on teams: "Don't worry, your reward's in heaven — we won't pay you or look after you." We say it jokingly, but that is honestly the case. And that's not just for church — it's for everywhere.
We pray for every man and woman here at the altar that Jesus would reignite a fresh passion and fresh vision for your frontlines. Whether at work, in the office, in a supermarket, as an architect — whatever it is — Father God, we pray fresh vision is instilled in these frontlines. Whatever each man and woman here does, may they do it knowing that they may have a manager, they may have a boss, but ultimately we are serving the Lord. For every occupation, every season — the fruits of life or retirement — may they see their frontlines as a redeployment to be sent by you in their context. We pray this by the power of your Holy Spirit and in the name of Jesus. Amen.
Lord Jesus, this week as we go back to our frontlines — home, work, college, school — let the lyrics we just sang not be a nice sentiment but a commission: that we would give ourselves away, that we wouldn't box you into 5% of a church meeting or morning devotions, but that we would see the whole 100% of our lives as an opportunity to be deployed on a frontline for your kingdom. Empower us by your Spirit to be your hands and feet in every context. May this coming week we have amazing testimony and story to share about the work you are doing in our city. Empower us, fill us, Lord, as we go. We pray this in your name. Amen.
