From the earliest days, local churches have demonstrated concern for the establishment and edification of God’s kingdom beyond their immediate proximity. The Ephesians and Colossians were renowned for their love for all the saints (Eph 1:15; Col 1:4); the Philippians’ koinonia in the gospel was praised and celebrated by Paul (Php 1:5); the generosity of the churches in Macedonia and Achaia towards the poor in Jerusalem earned Paul’s commendation and fuelled his encouragement of the Romans to act similarly towards the unreached in Spain (Rom 15:24-28). Paul’s various exhortations for churches in one location to pray for those in another demonstrates the biblically commended character of the early church. 

I remember the moment clearly. For several years my wife and I had been weighing up the prospect of vocational ministry. I loved opening the Bible with people and helping them to know Jesus better, but I felt inadequate for the task of pastoral ministry.
Our perspective changed when we received a prayer letter from friends who’d just arrived in a new country for their first term of missionary service with CMS. What struck me about their letter was not what I read, but what I saw: a photo of their young children perched on a pile of suitcases at a foreign luggage carousel. They’d packed their life into those suitcases and moved to a place where they had no language, no cultural experience, no friends, and no family. There were so many unknowns and so much weakness. Yet, there they were—for the sake of the gospel.
That snapshot of vulnerability gave me courage. It reminded me that God does not rely on human strength to achieve his purposes. Indeed, it is when I am weak that I am strong (2 Cor 12:10) and when he is most glorified. When we know that the gospel is the power of God for the salvation of all who believe (Rom 1:16), we can be confident that we are more equipped for the task of ministry than we can imagine. Carrying this treasure in jars of clay (2 Cor 4:7) is the way the Lord gives strength to his people (Psa 29:11). This illustrates one small way that exposure to global mission can impact people in our churches and stir them to serve more courageously in our local context.
And our local context is in vital need of the gospel. We long for faithful Christians to joyfully proclaim the good news of Jesus in our streets, suburbs, states and territories. We long for Christ to be heard so he will be worshipped. We long for him to be worshipped so he will be heard.
With so much need locally, what place does global mission have in the life of the local church? With so many people from other nations migrating to our shores, why invest in overseas mission at all? Is the opportunity cost of sending scarce gospel resources out of Australia too high? Does our hunger to see tangible results in our own backyard weaken the business case for mission?
In our right desire to see fellow Australians come to know Jesus, we need to be wary not to neglect global mission. We need to continually consider both the distinction between global mission and local evangelism, and also how they relate. I propose we make a habit of asking ourselves not “Where does global mission fit in our church?” but “Where does our church fit in global mission?” I believe setting our ministries in this wider frame—starting with the ‘ends of the earth’ in mind—will help us strike the right balance and safeguard our churches from becoming introspective and selfserving.
Here are four reasons why this matters:
1. A Global Mission Framework Aligns with God’s Purposes and Will
While mission is not a prominent activity of God’s people in the Old Testament, the trajectory of God’s will and the focus of his purpose is always towards the ends of the earth. We see this from the outset in the creation mandate to “fill the earth and subdue it” (Gen 1:28). It is then reiterated to Noah after the flood (Gen 9:1) and enshrined for the ages in God’s promise to Abraham: “all the peoples of the earth will be blessed through you” (Gen 12:3).
From this foundation, the biblical history continually re-asserts the end towards which God is working (e.g. Psa 19:4; 47:7; 67:2; 1 Chr 16:23-24; Isa 2:3-4; Zech 9:10; Mal 1:11, 14).
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The self-sufficiency of God has huge implications for our understanding of worship. When we gather on a Sunday, who is gaining? Not God, but us. We don’t come because he needs us but because we need him. We come ultimately not to give but to gain. How else could needy, dependent sinners approach the God of all life?

Most Christians will admit there are Sunday mornings when they awaken and wonder whether it’s even worth getting out of bed. Surely God doesn’t need our worship? We’re not serving on the set up team this week. No one will notice if we’re not there. We can perhaps read the Bible ourselves a bit later, pray from the comfort of the couch, pop on some Christian music over coffee. So why bother with corporate worship?
The answer is found not so much by searching the Scriptures for commands to gather—though those commands are certainly there. Rather, we need to look at the God who calls us to worship. I didn’t marry my wife because someone explained the duties and responsibilities of a husband—though those responsibilities are clearly presented in the Bible. No, I met, got to know, and fell in love with Georgina. So we’ll focus on just two truths about God that help us to understand why we worship and what blessings come as a result.
The God Who Deserves Everything
Creatures are made to worship their Creator. When anyone, be they human or angel, turns to think about who God is and what he’s done, the right response is worship.
Unlike bleary- eyed Christians on a Sunday morning, those already in heaven see God clearly and react instinctively to encountering him. To give just one example, in Revelation 4 we meet four strange creatures who live before the throne of God. What do they spend their lives doing? “Day and night they never cease to say, ‘Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!’” (Rev. 4:8). These heavenly beings spend every moment in worship: it’s as if it never occurs to them to do anything else. Here they praise God for who he is. He is holy, he is all-powerful, he is eternal. Seeing God’s character and attributes leads to an outburst of praise.
It’s the same when the twenty-four elders, perhaps symbolic of the redeemed people of God, respond to the creatures’ song: “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created” (Rev. 4:11). This time the focus is not so much on who God is but on what he has done: he has created all things and sustains them moment by moment. Regularly in Scripture, worship emerges from a worshipper’s reflections on the wonderful deeds of God. The Psalms are full of this pattern. Take Psalm 147, which begins with the classic exhortation “Praise the Lord!” The whole psalm then piles up reasons to praise him.
The Lord builds up Jerusalem;he gathers the outcasts of Israel.He heals the brokenheartedand binds up their wounds.He determines the number of the stars;he gives to all of them their names. (Ps. 147:2–4)
As the psalmist reflects on God’s kindness to his people—his building of the church and his willingness to deal tenderly with the brokenhearted, even as he is also the one who flung stars into space—he can’t help but worship.
In the New Testament era, it’s no different. As we return to the heavenly throne room, we meet the elders and creatures who are combining their voices to praise Jesus for all he’s done: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” (Rev. 5:12).
We could multiply examples almost endlessly. Worship ultimately is what we do when we draw near to God. It is his due. Everything we are and have comes from him, so it’s right that we respond in humble thanks and praise.
The Joy of Worship
But we mustn’t think this is mere duty, the kind of reverence shown by terrified citizens who are called to bow before the image of a despotic dictator. Rather, to worship God is our greatest privilege and joy. Perhaps the most famous lines ever to come from a Presbyterian pen are the question and answer that open the Westminster Shorter Catechism: “What is the chief end of man? Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.” Glorifying God is not a separate activity from enjoying him forever. Notice the question isn’t “What are the two chief ends of man?” but what is our one, singular “end” or purpose. Incredible though it may seem, God has created us for joy—to share with us the greatest gift he could give: himself. And the way we experience that delight is by worshipping him. This is why the Psalms are so full of joy.
In your presence there is fullness of joy;at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. (Ps. 16:11)
Then I will go to the altar of God,to God my exceeding joy,and I will praise you with the lyre,O God, my God. (Ps. 43:4)
With joy and gladness they are led alongas they enter the palace of the king. (Ps. 45:15)
Worship is not just a duty but a delight. We are built to worship, to give ourselves in wonder to something—or rather Someone—who is awesome and worthy. In fact, in the Bible’s understanding everyone is a worshipper. The question isn’t whether we’ll worship but who we’ll worship. In Romans 1, Paul’s critique of humanity isn’t that they stopped worshipping but rather that “they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (Rom. 1:25). Stop worshipping God and we’ll start worshipping something else. To put it another way, every human being on earth will be worshipping next Sunday morning. The only question is who or what they’ll worship: the triune God or Allah, Baal, comfort, golf, family, or any of the thousands of other idols we give ourselves to. And from what we’ve seen already, this switch is not just evil but foolish. It’s to swap pure spring water for filthy sewage, a king’s banquet for rat poison and arsenic.
God deserves everything; he deserves all our worship.
The God Who Needs Nothing
So we worship God because he deserves everything, and in that worship we know the blessing of joy and wonder as we meet him. But there’s another truth about God that at first sight might seem strange but that turns out to be a tremendous encouragement as Sunday morning rolls around. That strangely good news is that God doesn’t need us. More than that, in fact: God doesn’t need anything.
This is sometimes known as God’s self-sufficiency or independence. It emerges from the first verse of the Bible, where we learn that God created the heavens and earth. The sky, the stars, the earth we stand on: it all depends on God, the uncreated one, for its existence. Human beings rely on fuel to run; we need water, air, and food to sustain us. God, however, needs nothing. He is entirely self-existent. That’s why he reveals himself to Moses at the burning bush as “I am” (Ex. 3:14). Though the fire (which represents God) is in the bush, the bush isn’t actually burning—the fire needs no fuel.
Because God made all things and owns all things and is himself dependent on nothing, it’s ultimately impossible for anyone to really give anything to him—at least in the sense of giving so he genuinely gains from it. Paul makes exactly this point.
“Or who has given a gift to himthat he might be repaid?”
For from him and through him and to him are all things.To him be glory forever. Amen. (Rom. 11:35–36)
The answer to Paul’s question is clearly “No one.” No one has ever given anything to God, putting God in their debt. Why not? Because everything came from him, exists because of him, and is made for him. What could you give him that isn’t his already? What can you add to benefit an all-knowing, all-powerful, eternally happy God?
The self-sufficiency of God has huge implications for our understanding of worship. When we gather on a Sunday, who is gaining? Not God, but us. We don’t come because he needs us but because we need him. We come ultimately not to give but to gain. How else could needy, dependent sinners approach the God of all life? As Paul writes to the Athenians,
The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything. (Acts 17:24–25)
This truth about God helps to shed even more light on the worship service in heaven we saw earlier. There we heard that God was worthy to receive “glory and honor and power” (Rev. 4:11). But what does it mean for God to “receive” glory from his people? The self-sufficiency of God shows us that it can’t mean God is actually becoming more glorious. His glory is already infinite! Likewise, as he is praised, he doesn’t become more powerful. Rather, the elders’ song declares that all the praise, all the honor, all the power used by creatures in worship ought to be directed solely to God. It is right that we worship him with all that we are and all that we have—in that sense we give him glory. But as we do so, he isn’t gaining; incredibly, we are.
C. S. Lewis gives a good illustration of this principle, which is worth quoting at length.
Every faculty you have, your power of thinking or of moving your limbs from moment to moment, is given you by God. If you devoted every moment of your whole life exclusively to His service you could not give Him anything that was not in a sense His own already. So that when we talk of a man doing anything for God or giving anything to God, I will tell you what it is really like. It is like a small child going to [his or her] father and saying, “Daddy, give me sixpence to buy you a birthday present.” Of course, the father does, and he is pleased with the child’s present. It is all very nice and proper, but only an idiot would think that the father is sixpence to the good on the transaction.1
When we sing to God, pray to him, and give of our money, he remains sixpence none the richer. But we, doing what we were created for, are immeasurably blessed. The glory is his, the gain ours.
This chapter is an excerpt from Reformed Worship by Jonty Rhodes; it is a new release and is used with permission from P&R Publishers.
1 C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (London, UK: HarperCollins, 2002), 143.
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“Jesus smashes the empty cup of your felt needs”, but it is freedom! Freedom from constantly needing God and other people to satisfying every desire you have. Freedom from feeling angry or depressed when your felt needs aren’t met. And freedom to prioritize God over self and others over self, as Jesus laid out clearly when asked what the two greatest commandments were.

What do you need? Such a broad question has a number of answers. You might think “I need food to live.” Or perhaps you need respect from your spouse. Biblically, you need the Lord’s forgiveness in Christ. While some “needs” are legitimate biological needs (like food and water) or biblically-defined spiritual needs (like peace with God), a lot of “needs” you and I have on a given day could be put into a category of “felt needs.” They aren’t needs that come from explicit Scripture and they aren’t literally needed to keep us breathing.
How you and I think about felt needs has vast theological implications. It is very easy to assume that when the Bible talks about joy and satisfaction in Christ it means Jesus will provide for all of our felt needs. For example, perhaps you have a felt need of a romantic relationship. Did Jesus promise to satisfy that desire? When does that desire, even if it isn’t inherently sinful, become a sinful lust? I am currently reading through “When People are Big and God is Small” and a quote from the book helped me immensely when thinking through these questions.
“If I stand before (Jesus) as a cup waiting to be filled with psychological satisfaction, I will never feel quite full. Why? First, because my lusts are boundless; by their very nature they can’t be filled.
Second, because Jesus does not intend to satisfy my selfish desires. Instead, he intends to break the cup of psychological need (lusts), and not fill it.
“When People Are Big and God is Small” by Edward Welch
Most of our “needs” are really lusts in disguise.
This quote comes from an entire chapter where Welch seeks to distinguish between different types of “needs”. According to Welch, there are biological needs, spiritual needs, and what he calls “psychological needs”. The first two are self-explanatory but Welch spends a significant amount of time discussing psychological needs. Essentially, Welch makes the case that the prevailing view of humanity in the modern day it that we are empty cups that need to be filled. Humans have extensive longings that can either be fulfilled by sin or by God.
The problem with this model, according to Welch, is that oftentimes “longings” or “needs” are really just sinful lusts in disguise. They become idolatrous desires that you and I expect God to meet. You and I can desire even good things more than we desire God’s glory. Or you can desire the right thing for sinful reasons. For example, I was reflecting after reading this chapter that a “psychological need” I find within my own heart is a need to be respected by others. When people give me the respect I feel I need, I end up feeling pretty good about myself.
But what happens when my felt needs of respect and approval from others are not met? I end up either angry or depressed. Now, at this point I could address these felt needs by saying to myself “God has given me all the approval and acceptance I need in Christ.”
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