Les archives vivantes se chargent.
Send Me Campaign
Poursuivre l'exploration
Reliées par le texte biblique ou par des thèmes communs.
Cette page n’a pas encore été entièrement traduite. Une partie ou la totalité du texte ci-dessous s’affiche en English, sa langue d’origine.
Thanks so much, Becky. Welcome everyone. Are you okay? Are you alive? I'll keep saying to you all week — you can speak back to me. We need to break this thing of 2026 church where we see church as a cinema. As long as you're not swearing and as long as you're polite, we can talk back. Encourage each other. Encourage the guys on the platform — not just me, but Favor wherever you are. Thank you so much. What many of you won't know is Favor serves behind the scenes in church diligently on our production. So Favor, thank you so much.
You'll be hearing this tagline, this nomenclature of "frontline" a lot, not just over these coming weeks as we're in this campaign, but this campaign, this sermon series, these few talks are hopefully going to be a foundation on which everything else is built. What we don't want to do when we use the titles of series or campaigns is think that this is just for three or four weeks. This is absolutely foundational to being disciples of Jesus Christ in 2026. And that's why we're in this Send Me campaign. Turn to your neighbor and say, "Send me."
If you were here a few weeks ago, you'll know what this is all about. If you weren't, don't worry — this will act as a standalone message. Let me give you a quick recap.
We believe as Christians here in 2026, and indeed as the church, that church should not just be about an hour and a half on a Sunday — or indeed about an hour in the week at a prayer meeting, or even 10–15 minutes snatched in a morning as we do our devotions. When we come to faith in Jesus, it should transform all of our lives. There's a problem if we meet Jesus and have a revelation of who he is and what he has done, but it only transforms our Sunday. That is not the faith that Jesus called us to.
As we heard last week with the men and women going through the waters of baptism, when Jesus really turns up and touches hearts, it changes everything forever. But the danger is when we meet Jesus and do the church thing for a while, we can slip into a comfortable familiarity where we turn up and do church, do prayer meetings, even be part of a life group and a serving rota. The danger is because it gets comfortable, it doesn't really change anything. Faith stops being this dynamic change-your-life-forever sort of thing and simply becomes a small tick-box exercise. That is not the life that Jesus had for us when he said in John 10:10 that he came to give life and life in its fullness.
Dare I say this — I really hope that when I get to heaven, it's not just a long church service. I love singing. I love preaching. But I don't want to do that for eternity, sitting in rows looking at a platform. Is it part of faith? Absolutely.
"Encourage each other to good works and don't neglect meeting together." — Hebrews 10:24–25
So don't hear what I'm not saying. Church is really, really important. But it's here that we should get filled up, equipped, and taught to make a difference out there in the real world. This is a protective little bubble where we have our comfortable seats and our nice music and our inspirational talks — but this isn't real life. Out there we have real people, real family, and real problems.
Our hope over these next few weeks in the Send Me campaign is that we are teaching something here that equips us to change stuff forever — that we go into our workplaces, our homes, into our retirement, into Morrison's, and we are making a difference for the kingdom of God.
So this morning, I'm going to teach rather than preach. I'm predominantly a teacher; I just moonlight sometimes as a preacher. If you have a notebook or a phone, do take it out — there'll be a few charts and graphs.
We call these campaigns because we want it to change something. Whenever I leave BCC, hopefully at the end of a long retirement in 40 years, I don't want to leave by saying, "Well, he preached okay, but nothing has changed in the church." I don't want to still be sat in this room. Indeed, I don't want to be sat just in this corner of the city. I want to look back at retirement and say thank God for all the men and women you have helped me partner with to raise up to change this city for Jesus. We want to leave a legacy here. We don't just want nice services.
We need to get this in our minds: when we come to faith, it's not just a part of our life. When I do my devotions in the morning, if I sit down for 10–15 minutes with the pads or the ocean music so it sounds really holy, open up my Bible to my daily readings and pray to the Lord, and then get up and go, "Right, job's a good one — off to the real world now, off to the secular space," — we have missed something.
We do this inherently. We almost compartmentalize our life into all these different spaces — hobbies, work — and when it comes to faith, faith occupies a little bit of the space, but then the rest of it we call secular. You ever heard preachers talk about the secular world? I understand what is trying to be said. But when we go to Scripture, there's no distinction between what is sacred and what is secular. There's no difference.
Paul wrote the majority of the New Testament. He didn't sit down on a Monday morning in his workplace as a tent maker and say, "Well, I'm just doing my secular job now," and then wait till Saturday to stand up in the synagogue and say, "Right, this is my sacred job now." No — he saw all of life as spiritual. And I think one of the biggest lies the enemy can get us to believe is that there's a secular space and a sacred space.
The average Christian — and I mean the pretty good one — is doing about six hours a week in church-related activities: prayer meeting, church, devotions, serving on a rota. But look at the rest of the week. If you have around 120 active hours, we minimize our faith to just 6 hours. That's about 5% of our life.
Jesus didn't die 5% on the cross and then the other 95% say, "Oh God, you've killed the 5% now, so let me down off the cross to live the other 95." No. When he came to the cross, he wanted to redeem your whole life, not just your church life. He wanted us to wake up invigorated with the Holy Spirit to make a difference in all of life, not just to tick a box coming to church. Amen.
When we get into our scattered state, it's really important we have the mentality that we're still Christians, still disciples, still followers, still able to make an impact in the kingdom of God.
In the UK:
So if you come to church every week, you represent only 4% of the population. When we gather together, this room is the 100% — great, cozy, comfortable. But this isn't why we are saved. This is where we get equipped.
When we gather, we influence very few — probably people walking past the parade going, "What's that bassy noise? Why is the floor bouncing?" Oh, it's because David and Mo and Kess are on the stage again. But when we get scattered, our circles widen dramatically. Now we're not just touching a few percent — we're touching nearly the whole country and indeed the whole world.
Can you see what happens when we get mobilized to be influences for the kingdom on our frontline? It should change something. It should get us excited that God trusts us to do the work of the kingdom.
"Whatever you do, work at it with all of your heart as if working for the Lord, not for 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." — Colossians 3
I love this first word — "whatever." Do you know what "whatever" means in the Greek? It means whatever.
This is a perspective thing. When you go into your work, you're not just working for a boss. You're not just working with colleagues. You are sent to a frontline as a missionary for the Lord Jesus Christ. Someone else might underscore the paycheck. Someone else might do the HR. Someone else might call you in when you've done something wrong. But ultimately, it's Jesus.
Now, if you're sat here thinking, "Well, I get that sentiment when we go to work — but I'm just a stay-at-home mom," or "I'm just a kid's dad," or "I'm retired, so I get to switch off" — no, you don't.
The Lord has work for us to do. We need to get off our blessed assurances and do some work, because the Lord has called us to more. He trusts you and me to go and do the things of the kingdom of God. Eternities are at stake.
Here's how I'd say it: Whatever your occupation is, is the frontline for your vocation as a sent one into full-time ministry.
Notice the word "occupation." It's not your job — it's what you are occupied with.
Charles Spurgeon, that phenomenal preacher and theologian, said this:
"To a man [and woman] who lives unto God, nothing is secular. Everything is sacred. He puts on his workday garment and it is a vestment unto him... He sits down to his meal and it is a sacrament. He goes forth to his labor and therein exercises the office of the priesthood. His breath is incense and his life a sacrifice... To draw a hard and fast line and say, 'This is sacred and this is secular' — in my mind — is diametrically opposed to the teaching of Christ and the spirit of the gospel."
If you are a doctor doing the wards at the QE and you have a stethoscope around your neck — it's a dog collar. If you're stacking shelves wearing a name badge in Tesco — that is a priestly garment. If you pull out the baby wipes and wipe a toddler's backside — it's a priestly garment. If you put on gardening gloves with your trowel and shovel — priestly garment.
Peter tells us we're all a royal priesthood. So it's not just clergy who should wear a collar. We all do. They just look different.
And next time your wife or husband tells you got morning breath, tell them, "Well, no — it's just incense to the Lord. It's my 'whatever.'"
Paul Stevens, a more modern theologian, wrote a book called The Abolition of the Laity — a really posh way to say we're all priests. He says:
"When I hear someone say 'I'm going into full-time ministry,' I want to throw up — because it communicates that there's a part-time option."
There's no part-time option in the kingdom of God. There are no part-time Christians. It's not just being on church staff or being an elder or a deacon or on the worship team. All of us are in full-time ministry, and the Spirit within us helps empower, equip, and release us into what that ministry looks like.
In America, only 2% of Christians are in full-time paid ministry. It's probably even lower in the UK. Can you imagine if we leave the Great Commission of Matthew 28:18–20 to 2% of people? It's going to take a long time to see this world saved. What would happen if all nearly 2.5 billion Christians could get this message that we're all in full-time ministry?
I'm looking forward to Jesus coming back. I've got married, I've had my kids, I've done what I want to do. I'm ready for heaven. No more politics, no more petrol prices. I'm on the wrong side of 35, so my waistline is not shrinking — it's expanding. Let's get on and do the work. Jesus is coming back — that's not something to be scared of, that's something to celebrate.
As we look at work, we need to frame it so that our work is good. What do I mean?
Genesis 1 is one of my favorite chapters in the whole Bible. Six times over six days, God said, "It is good." He created oceans, hillsides, forests, plants, vegetation, animals — and repeatedly it was good. But on day six, when he creates humanity, something changes:
"God saw all that he had made, and it was very good." — Genesis 1:31
So when we talk about work being sacred — how do we employ this at Aldi, in the hospital, at the GP surgery, in the engineering office? By doing very good work.
We've got a really unhealthy perspective in our society of work. Whenever I go to a children's party — and with three kids, I have to go to loads — it's interesting seeing me in those contexts. Outside of a church context, I don't really know what to do with myself. I don't know where to put my hands, how to dress, how to speak, because I'm just not used to meeting new people outside of a church environment. Now I say to Becky, "I'm coming to the kids' party with you" — not just for the food, but to meet people.
And here's what happens every time you meet someone new. The first question: "What's your name?" The second question: "What do you do?"
Isn't that interesting? Those two questions are linked. In our society, we link our work with who we are. Our identity is so much in what we do rather than who we are called to be. That's why when we retire, it can meet us like a brick wall — so much of our identity isn't in who we are as God's son or daughter, but in what we do.
Watch yourself in a new setting. You unconsciously begin to rank yourself against the person you're meeting when you learn their profession.
Catch your thought process as you begin to stack yourself up by what they do. We have this thing of worth in our society, and we subconsciously rank ourselves by what we do, not just who we are.
You might think, "I get this for the consultant doctor, but I'm just a bin man." In Birmingham, if you're a bin man and you don't do your job, it makes a difference. When bin men don't do their job, the doctors get busy — there's disease, rats, infestation. A bin man's job is exactly the same, if not more important, than the consultant's job when it's contributing to a healthy, well society.
Jesus never calls us by what we do. When we get to heaven, I don't get a fast pass in front of Fitz or Sharon because I'm a pastor. If anything, a pastor is called to serve — I'm going to the back. There's no ranking system. Jesus doesn't look at the occupation. He looks at who we are. But we all have the same commission and same mission to go and be sent.
So we've understood the what. But how do we do it? Let's take Genesis as the archetype.
The very first thing the Bible says is "In the beginning." Beginnings set a foundation for what comes next. And the very first thing we see God do isn't anything worshipful, isn't anything miraculous in terms of healing — he begins to work. He crafts, molds, shapes. Then he creates Adam and Eve — and in my mind, they're all six foot seven with six-packs and beautiful, because if you're going to be made by God, you're going to be good, aren't you?
And the very first thing God tells them:
"Here's the garden. I want you to go and work it." — Genesis 2:15
The very first thing God tells humans to do isn't to worship him, but to work.
Unfortunately, we think of work as a drag, something we have to do. But biblically, work was created by God as a good thing. It was distorted at the Fall, but work isn't from the Fall. Work can be redeemed.
The Hebrew word here is avodah. He sets Adam to avodah the garden. And this is fascinating — the same root word for "work" is the same root word for "service" and "worship."
Work and worship in the garden were inextricably linked. We often think, "I have to do the work stuff to allow me to live so I can worship." But Adam and Eve's first job was an act of worship.
This sets a precedent that all work has the ability to be worship when it is good work — breathed on by the Lord. Work is an inherent part of human purpose and dignity and is a way to participate in the stewardship of God's creation. The work mandate God gave Adam and Eve — to steward creation — is our same mandate on our frontlines. That wasn't just for two people back then; it's our mandate now.
Genesis 1:26–28 tells us we were created in the image of God — the imago dei. So work isn't just something we do for God. We replicate God in stewarding his creation on our frontlines. Imago dei means to mirror, to image something. We mirror God when we do good work.
In my old church in Luton, we had a big proportion of Iranian refugees — 40 or 15 at each service. Skeptics said, "They're only coming to be baptized so they can get a visa." Some of that was true. However, if you go to Iran right now, the underground church is the fastest growing church in the world. It's Muslim-dominated, strict, patriarchal — but the church is exploding, and it's being led predominantly by young women, 17 and 18 year olds. Jesus is turning up in dreams and visions to imams and devout Muslims and transforming their hearts in a moment. They find themselves in front of these young believers who say, "Jesus showed up and sent me here."
I remember talking to one guy, Mos. These weren't kids straight out of school — chefs, accountants, well-trained guys in high positions in Iran. They arrive in the UK ready to contribute, and the government says, "You can't work." £10 a day, hotel room, keep yourself busy. And we watched their mental health decline rapidly into depression and anxiety. Why? Because something within us in our design wants to work. It wants to contribute. It wants to have meaning.
It's almost a form of punishment. How do we punish people when they do something wrong? Prison. We isolate them and tell them they can't work. This is what's happening with our refugees. We are inbuilt to provide. We are inbuilt to give. We are inbuilt to contribute. It's part of our dignity.
Genesis 1:2 says the earth was "formless and void" — in Hebrew, tohu vavohu. Try saying that before 9:00 a.m. It doesn't just mean "formless" — it means formless and chaotic. God is hovering over stuff that's chaotic and needs reordering and structuring.
I've got no problem with the Big Bang. If God wanted to use a Big Bang to create, fine — but the stuff had to come from somewhere. God has this chaotic stuff and bang, it starts to come into structure. Over the seven days, he puts barriers and structure in place. He gives the canvas a border, sets rules for the ocean, the night, the day. Chaos is brought into order. This is good work.
Whatever your workplace, good work creates order out of chaos:
Can you see? The big things — cancer cells, plane engines — and the "unimportant" things are all the same thing: good work, order out of chaos. Take that as your mantra this week — your tohu vavohu — as you walk into work.
My guilty pleasure at the minute is Clarkson's Farm. Some tasty language, but it's a wholesome program about UK farming — and it's all about provision. Every year Clarkson makes a loss, but his sole point of farming is to provide. We don't think of farmers when we take our loaf of Warburtons off the shelf in Tesco. Or those in pharmaceuticals providing medicine that has saved millions of lives — thank goodness for penicillin.
But more than that, God releases potential. When God put trees and streams and flowers in Eden, he didn't just put them there for millions of years — he put trees with seeds in them. He created self-creating animals and plants. And you and I — we're self-creating too. When we come into holy covenant with God, we can create. God has given us that innate ability.
Maybe you're a teacher going back into a secondary school after six years of hell with Year 10 — cheeky and annoying. But maybe there's one child who could change the world in a few years because of what you have seen in them. That's releasing potential.
God is an artist. He creates beautifully. Maybe you think, "I'm not a farmer, not a doctor, not even stacking shelves. I'm unemployed and I paint." That's beautiful. Maybe you're a songwriter, and with words and melody you craft something that moves souls.
One of the hardest things moving to Birmingham for me is doom-scrolling on Instagram and seeing Sher and Mo's cakes all the time. I apologize, Sher, but I unfollowed your cake account — it was tempting. Trust me, I've tasted them. They don't just taste beautiful, they look amazing. Even though I unfollowed, David keeps sharing them. And I feel bad because I love Sher.
There's something about beauty. When someone gives you something beautiful, it moves you in a special way. God doesn't just create practically — he creates beauty.
God is integral. We sung the word "holy" — Greek hagios. Holy doesn't mean we're holier than thou, that we levitate, that we're three feet off the ground because we're so holy. Holy in its true form simply means different. We serve a different, set-apart God.
When we go to our frontlines, we're called to live differently. We do things differently as Christians:
Maybe you're in accounts, and being integral means knowing you could make yourself look better to the boss by changing one figure — and no one will ever know. Integrity is actually taking the hit. I love what Favor said: "I made a mistake and I had to rectify it." What happens in the world today when someone makes a mistake? Blame everyone else. That's not integral. Good work is integral. It holds up holiness.
If good work brings order, provision, beauty, and integrity — what is bad work?
Bad work is when we receive all the gifting and purposes God has given us but don't steward them as he's called us to. God has given us a gift of sexuality and covenant relationship — when we pervert that, that's bad. God has given us a gift, and we need to steward it correctly.
Here's my one-line summary: Bad work is work that exploits the dignity of people who are created in the image of God.
There's obvious bad work:
But because of the Fall, we live in a culture that sometimes celebrates bad work. Profit over people is bad work.
If you're an Uber driver or a delivery driver, I'm not saying you're bad — but the system, I think, is bad work. "You're self-employed! You can work your own hours!" Yeah — but:
You are not looked after. You are simply a number on a page to make profit for the organization. I'm not saying quit your job. But can you see how some structures and institutions can be bad work? Gender inequality, sexism, racism — this is structural stuff that is inherently bad.
When the Fall happened, it wasn't just separating humanity from God. It messed up creation, institutions, structures, and the spirit world as much as it messed up your soul and mine.
If you're a Christian doing something really dodgy — you're running a brothel, let's go extreme — that's bad, and when Jesus changes you, you have to get out of that.
However, you might be in a bad work institution and can't leave — because you have bills to pay, kids to look after, a mortgage, car payments. You're stuck.
I think of Esther. She and her cousin Mordecai see that the king has been duped into killing off their whole population — a massive form of racism, killing all the Jews. Esther says, "I don't know what to do — the king doesn't realize I'm Jewish." And Mordecai says (I'm sure he's British, because he had a cup of tea and a scone — that's not in the Bible, by the way):
"Esther, maybe — just maybe — you were placed in the palace for such a time as this."
No matter where you are on the pecking order — retirement, the rubbish heap, wherever — maybe you are where you are for such a time as this.
Maybe not, like Erin Brockovich, you can change the whole structural system — but you can be salt and light wherever you are.
A few weeks ago we looked at the Holy Spirit empowering us for mission. The phrase I used: we can get all dressed up but have nowhere to go if we never break out of our four walls. When the Spirit comes upon us, he dresses us up, equips us, and sends us out into the world to be his missionaries on our frontlines.
I've touched really quickly on a theology of work — this is a huge topic. But if you don't hear anything else, remember the line from two weeks ago:
Maybe you don't need to do more. You just need to see what you do differently.
Say it again. Maybe you don't need to do more. You don't need another night out. You don't need to be on another rota. You don't need to get into another life group because you're already part of four. You just need to see what you do Monday through Saturday a little bit differently.
Let's stand together. I love the word "altar call." I want to redeem that. As Pentecostals, the altar is so foundational for who we are.
There are two altar calls this morning:
1. To see what you do differently. Maybe as I was talking, it wasn't necessarily me you were hearing — the Lord was stirring your heart. Your mind started racing about your workplace, your educational institution, your retirement, your home life, where the Lord has ignited a vision to see it differently. Come forward — I'd love to lay a hand on you and pray.
2. To stand firm when you feel stuck. Maybe you feel stuck in a situation — work, home, a bad institution or system — and you're feeling called to compromise. The world celebrates profit over people. Maybe you just want the Spirit's help to stand firm in your conviction as a sent one to your frontline. Maybe this morning you need to say:
"God, I'm not where I want to be, but maybe I am where I am because you have called me for such a time as this."
Come forward. I'll lay a hand on your shoulder. I won't ask specifics — the Lord knows intimately what you do, how you do it, where you do it. We're going to pray that the Spirit empowers you this week to be a sent one on your frontline, wherever and whenever you are.
