Mom with the stroller, 38-week belly, and purse full of snacks: Do you believe the resurrected Jesus says to you, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:18–19)?

Believe it. Jesus sees you and commands as much. He hasn’t overlooked the small hand in yours or the little sleep you’re operating on. He isn’t put off by the noise of your toddler or the fullness of your days. Our Lord commissions mothers with the same words given to Peter, James, and John. Mothers bless the nations and their children by living out the Great Commission in the world as only they can.

His command isn’t limited to moms translating the Bible someplace humid with spiders. The commission isn’t watered down if you find yourself in a Midwestern cul-de-sac. What may seem ordinary about your local witness is, in reality, as stunning as the multitude of stars encircling Abraham.

Father of a Billion Mothers

One reason Jesus references the Abrahamic covenant in the Great Commission is to show that salvation is no longer limited to the Jews. Abraham was called to be a blessing to the nations (Genesis 12:1–3). The means of blessing the nations in Matthew 28:18–20 is making disciples of Jesus. In him, salvation comes not just to Jews but to Gentiles. And Gentiles are everywhere. You fulfill Jesus’s command when you disciple the girl in youth group and bear witness at family reunions. What Jesus accomplished on the cross assures us that the person within reach matters to God. His mission, his heart, is set on all peoples, both the exotic and the most familiar.

We should never downplay the mission of moms here, wherever here might be. At the same time, we should also remember that God does send many moms there, to the darkest corners of the planet. They stand with their households as luminous cities on hard-to-reach hills, for “how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard?” (Romans 10:14).

For these women — for me — to be both a missionary and a mom can feel like being called to play the tree on set for the school play. A necessary role, but in no way desirable. We have to be there, but we’re all background and support. We obey and go, but out of duty to some secondary commissioning. We don’t expect God to make disciples of all nations through the vessel of a mother pulled by her string of kids.

But there are around two billion mothers on the globe, and four babies born every second. When my husband and I visit village homes in an isolated region of the world to share the good news, we meet countless mothers and grandmothers with laps full of wide-eyed children. These women stare blankly at the name Jesus. Who will reach them? Who can relate to the love that inflates your heart at first meeting, the wonders of shared noses and taste buds, the pain of childbearing, the demands of homemaking, and the need to later release those you’ve cradled in your arms? Who better to give them Christ than mothers who share their joys and scars?

Death, the Attention-Getter

After a handful of years on the mission field, the most frequent opportunity I get to share the gospel relates to how I raise my kids. It’s not because of our picture-perfect moments or saintly routines. The attention-getter is always death. I lay down my life for my children because Christ did it first for me. I can love my kids at their worst because my Lord delighted to save me while I slapped his face and pulled at his beard. That’s otherworldly.

“Motherly weakness is good soil for gospel seeds.”

When we patiently discipline the flailing toddler, we copy the God who gathers even the wiliest of sheep into his embrace (Isaiah 40:11). When we study their scribbled drawings and clap for cartwheels, we mirror the God who delights to save us and sings over us like a proud papa (Psalm 18:19; Zephaniah 3:17).

Our weakness as moms is our strength. The boundaries, limits, and frailties that uniquely mark motherhood have the power to forge genuine friendships with women around the world. When I had morning sickness and lived by the toilet bowl in a land of abrasive curry, I’ll never forget the way my house-helper stroked my hair with tears in her own eyes, or the special snack my neighbor fried for me when I admitted how sad I felt postpartum. Motherly weakness is good soil for gospel seeds.

What if, instead of resenting our roles and responsibilities, we used them to win women from every tribe, tongue, and nation? We might borrow the tenacity of the shrewd manager in Luke 16, who used earthly wealth to gain friends and a future. With a measure of cleverness, might we use our motherly particularities to advance the kingdom of God?

Bless the Nations — and Your Children

Not only will the nations be glad when mothers go and make disciples; our children will be blessed — both now and later. Many parents are consumed with the now part, placing children in the center of their own solar systems, with enough extracurriculars, playdates, and field trips in orbit to keep them happy and on the path to supposed success. Because kids come in cute little packages, we can forget they are human image-bearers, just like us, who can’t be satisfied with vacations or the entire Christmas list under the tree. They were made for more.

Like the pirates in their storybooks, they crave the gold of the gospel and nothing less. They live in a warzone and require bolstering. If we make them the star attraction, expect little, and merely keep them busy, we place them in a sandcastle that’s easily dismantled by the waves of trial that are surely ahead.

Children will be blessed in the long run if their moms come alive at Jesus’s command on the mountain. Mothers who believe their Lord is with them in the task will take risks, abandoning the safety of their ships for stormy waters like Peter did. As a result, their blessed kids will watch Scripture play out in the day-to-day, as they see mom trust God like the widow who gave her last coin, or as they watch her mimic the Father who bridges the gap to find the lost lamb. They will hear their mothers’ prayers and watch the feast that returns from her insufficient bread and fish. Her earthen vessel will shine into the shadowed places of the world and onto the faces of her children.

Moms, don’t move toward the nations as some reincarnated Hudson Taylor or Amy Carmichael. Don’t waste time envying the free-spirited personality and bug-tolerance of the missionary of your dreams. Jesus sees you. And your children. He doesn’t pine for future diaper-less days when you’ll finally work like a well-oiled machine. He commissions you in the hectic present to go and make disciples.

So, make disciples of the unengaged, the people around your breakfast table, and the mom you meet at the park. One day, you’ll find yourself in a sea of white robes before the throne, surrounded in part by the fruit of your labor, physical and spiritual children standing as “oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified” (Isaiah 61:3).

If you could learn to preach from one man in particular, whom would you choose? Some may want to mention big names of today. Others may be entranced by great preachers of the past, the names that echo through history. Perhaps, closer to home, a dear mentor left a particular imprint upon us.

But what about the apostles, men full of the Holy Spirit, and their inspired sermons recorded in Scripture? Should we not learn from them first? In a delightful book called Peter: Eyewitness of His Majesty, my friend Ted Donnelly speaks of Peter as a disciple, as a preacher, and as a pastor. The book is a magnificent treatment of this servant of Christ. Some years before my friend himself passed into Christ’s presence, he preached on Acts 2 and identified some of the features of Peter’s preaching. I gladly acknowledge my debt in what follows.

What, then, can the record of apostolic preaching teach us? What lessons might we learn to help us declare the whole counsel of God? Turning to Peter’s sermon at Pentecost (Acts 2:14–40), let me suggest seven features of apostolic preaching that we can and should pursue.

Peter manifestly preaches in the here and now, beginning with the striking assertion about the disciples’ sobriety (Acts 2:15). Peter preaches an immediately relevant sermon as a man who knows where and when he speaks, and with whom. His sermon proceeds from a real person and is to, about, and for real people — those in Jerusalem who crucified the Lord of glory. He focuses on the most important matters — salvation from sin through faith in the Christ who died and rose. The sermon is earthy, preached by a dying man to dying men, yes, but also by a living man to living men, about the man who lived, died, and lives again forever.

Do we preach with the same sense of immediacy, with the same sense of reality? Do our messages seem like history lectures, or are people made to feel that this sermon pours from a present me to a present you?

2. Scriptural and Reasonable

Peter moves from explanation to exposition to application to persuasion. He takes account of his hearers’ experience, but he uses Scripture to interpret, explain, and confirm it (as in 2 Peter 1:19). Dealing with what his congregation knows, sees, and hears, he turns to Joel 2 to explain the work of the Spirit, to Psalm 16 to emphasize the reality of the resurrection, to Psalm 110 to connect the ascension of Christ with the grant of the Spirit.

Again and again, Peter makes the point, “This is that! That is what it says, and this is what it means.” He is preaching like Christ, employing what I call an apostolic hermeneutic, which Christ patterned for his disciples in Luke 24:27 and 44–48. Does our preaching rest in and rely upon the word of God? Are we manifestly proclaimers and explainers of divine truth, and chiefly of Christ as he is set forth in all the Scriptures?

3. Doctrinal and Instructive

I doubt anyone has ever been asked to preach a distinctly Trinitarian sermon, blending the richest insights of biblical and systematic theology, and covering such topics as theology proper, Christology, pneumatology, prolegomena, anthropology, soteriology, sacramentology, eschatology, and ecclesiology. You might consider such a request ridiculous or even impossible. Yet I suggest that Peter manages it here!

All these notes resonate and combine at Pentecost. Peter introduces all of them naturally, accessibly, substantially, and forcefully — sermonically! Peter is a true theologian, and his sermon is the fruit of Christ’s instruction and the Spirit’s illumination. But he is also a true preacher: though well taught, he doesn’t feel the need to parade his learning. He is neither entertaining the goats nor straining the giraffes. He is calling and feeding the sheep, and therefore he both knows and shows his theology appropriately. His scholarship is not lofty and academic, but consecrated to save and sustain souls through the plainest of declarations.

Are we preaching meaty or milky sermons, according to the needs of our hearers? Good preaching sets forth doctrine sometimes centrally, sometimes incidentally, so that the truth comes across as deep, clear, and sweet to the congregation.

4. Christian and Adoring

Peter’s sermon is theologically rich, but it zeroes in on the Lord Jesus Christ. Peter’s sermons, like Paul’s and others recorded in the New Testament, are full of the Lord Jesus, overflowing with precious truth concerning him. The Pentecost sermon is ardently and urgently Christ-centered, Christ-focused, Christ-exalting. The prophets spoke of him; God sent him; we trust him. He who is God the Son is also identified as true man, the promised man, the sent man, the crucified man, the risen man, the ascended man, the exalted man, the gracious man, the saving man.

“Have we preached, will we preach, a gospel that is whole and holy, free and full, sweet and saving?”

Remember, Peter is preaching to people who knew the Old Testament and among whom Jesus of Nazareth had physically walked. If they needed such instruction, how much more do hearers today? People do not know, or even know about, Jesus of Nazareth. They need men who are urgent and ardent to tell them of the Savior. Are we as preachers going out to tell people about Jesus Christ? Are we eager for people to hear of him, or do we not believe that the preaching of Christ will prove God’s means of bringing sinners to faith?

5. Applied and Direct

“Men and brothers,” said Peter, “Let me speak freely . . .” (Acts 2:29 NKJV). And he meant it! Read through the sermon again. Peter is plain, open, bold, and courageous. He looks his congregation in the eye and speaks to them. He speaks with startling bluntness: “This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. . . . Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified” (Acts 2:23, 36).

This is not hectoring speech; nor is it unrighteously aggressive. We should expect the word of God to dig, to press, to probe, to trouble the soul, to cut to the heart. When the Spirit brings it home, hearers cry out, “What shall we do?” (Acts 2:37). The seraphic Samuel Pearce pleaded,

Give me the preacher who opens the folds of my heart; who accuses me, convicts me, and condemns me before God; who loves my soul too well to suffer me to go on in sin, unreproved, through fear of giving me offence; who draws the line with accuracy, between the delusions of fancy, and the impressions of grace; who pursues me from one hiding place to another, until I am driven from every refuge of lies; who gives me no rest until he sees me, with unfeigned penitence, trembling at the feet of Jesus; and then, and not till then, soothes my anguish, wipes away my tears, and comforts me with the cordials of grace.

Do we expect such preaching? If necessary, will we seek it out? Do we as preachers express truth directly, or do we fudge and shave, blunting the edge of the Jerusalem blade? Do we expect and desire our preaching to provoke the question, “What shall we do?” or have we become experts in turning aside the thrust of divine truth?

6. Affectionate and Gracious

Peter’s most direct speech does not lack love. He speaks to them and toward them, for them (Acts 2:14, 21–22, 29, 38–39). He holds back neither the horror of sin nor the hope of salvation. These last days are gospel days! The good news is being proclaimed to all: repent and believe in Christ, and you shall be saved. (Matthew Henry delightfully calls this offer “a plank after shipwreck.”) Then be baptized, identifying yourself with the Jesus of Scripture, the Christ from Nazareth. Forgiveness will be granted, and the Holy Spirit, who is God himself, will dwell in you to purify you, to bless you, to keep you.

Do we know how to combine the straight and the sweet? Have we learned, under God, to wound and to bind up? Do we know and love the people before us and around us, and so speak? Have we preached, will we preach, a gospel that is whole and holy, free and full, sweet and saving? Have we received the Jesus who brings salvation, and do we delight to tell others of him?

7. Blessed and Fruitful

Peter’s sermon strikes home hard and deep. Those cut to the heart cry out, “Brothers, what shall we do?” And soon after, “those who received his word were baptized, and there were added that day about three thousand souls” (Acts 2:37, 41). Solemnity and scorn gave way to serious concern, and the Lord granted salvation to thousands. This sermon, preached by a man full of the Holy Spirit, instructed by the Savior and illuminated by the Helper, is a carrying out of the Great Commission. As Peter obeys the command of Christ, three thousand receive the word, are baptized, and so are added to the number of the believers (perhaps more than Christ saw in all the days of humiliation, if we so read John 14:12).

Do we not have the same gospel? Do we not have the same Savior? Do we not have the same Spirit? Can we not preach similar sermons? Can we not pray for and expect similar results? I mean not so much the great numbers (though neither do I dismiss them), but rather the same spiritual reality and heavenly force?

Here is a model for truly apostolic preaching, an example for those who follow in the faith and labor of the apostles. We are not apostles, but we can desire more of the apostolic spirit. In that sense, we can and should seek to preach apostolic sermons, not as cold constructs according to some dry standard, but as the products of burning hearts taken up with Christ and desiring, above all things, the glory of God in him, and the eternal good of all those who hear.

The late R.C. Sproul was fond of inverting a particular biblical passage in order to bring home a theological truth. For instance, in seeking to press upon his hearers the horrors of God’s wrath, Sproul would turn to the Aaronic blessing:

The Lord bless you and keep you;     the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. (Numbers 6:24–26)

Sproul turns the blessing inside out, transforming it into a curse:

May the Lord curse you and abandon you.     May the Lord keep you in darkness and give you only judgment without grace.May the Lord turn his back upon you and remove his peace from you forever.

His point in doing so was to press home the reality of God’s judgment and the wonders of Christ’s cross, modifying the familiar words so that we marvel at God’s grace in sending Christ to bear the curse in our place. Years ago, inspired by Sproul’s example, I engaged in my own inversion, this time transforming the Bible’s most detailed description of human rebellion into a vision for the Godward life.

The Godless Life

In Romans 1:18–32, Paul paints a picture of the consequences of human idolatry and ingratitude on human life and culture — the wages of a godless life. God’s wrath is revealed against our ungodliness, by which we suppress the truth of his sovereignty, power, and nature. In refusing to honor and thank God, who gives us every good gift, our minds fall into vanity and our hearts are darkened. Our rebellious folly is manifested clearly in the dark exchange that we make — trading away the glory of the immortal God for created things.

As a result of this foundational rebellion and false worship, God gives us over to impurity, lies, dishonorable passions, and a debased mind. The result extends to every area of human life. The individual is corrupted in mind and heart, in thinking and willing. The effects of rebellion extend from the inner man to the outer man, from the soul to the body. Our sexuality is corrupted, as sinful desires reign and ungodly passions distort the relationships between men and women.

From there, our corporate life is affected. “They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, maliciousness. They are gossips, slanderers, haters of God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless” (Romans 1:29–31). Family, friends, and society are all twisted by our debased minds as loving fellowship and community are torn apart and reoriented by our shared rebellion.

The Godward Life

So then, if this is a horrifying picture of human rebellion and ungodliness, what might the opposite be? Could an inverted Romans 1 give us a renewed vision for the Godward life?

The pleasure of God is revealed from heaven upon all godliness and righteousness of men, who by their righteousness celebrate the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. For because they know God, they honor him as God and give thanks to him, and they become fruitful in their thinking, and their humble hearts are enlightened. Having become fools for Christ, they have thereby become wise, and are receiving the glory of the immortal God and seeing that glory reflected in mortal man, birds, animals, and creeping things.

Therefore, God restored them in the desires of their hearts for purity, to the honoring of their bodies among themselves, because they gladly received the truth about God instead of lies and worshiped and served the Creator, who is blessed forever, rather than the creature. Amen.

For this reason, God renews their desires and delights and passions. For the women glory in the masculinity of men, and the men likewise revel in the femininity of women, and husbands and wives are consumed with passion for each other, men and women honoring the marriage bed and receiving among themselves the due reward for their obedience.

And since they see fit to acknowledge God, God reorients their renewed minds to do what ought to be done. They are filled with all manner of righteousness, goodness, contentment, benevolence. They are full of gratitude for other people’s gifts, brotherly love, peace, truth-telling, magnanimity. They are edifiers, encouragers, lovers of God, courteous, meek, humble, inventors of good, obedient to parents, wise, steadfast, compassionate, merciful. Because they know God’s decree that those who practice such things will receive eternal life, they not only do them but give hearty approval to those who practice them.

By turning the chapter on its head, we discover a fundamentally different vision for human life — one that begins, not with God’s wrath, but with his pleasure.

Going Godward Together

As we together turn our lives, ambitions, and worship Godward, we celebrate the truth, rather than suppress it. God’s revelation in creation and conscience and the Scriptures is the same, but now it leads us to heartfelt worship and gratitude to God through Christ. Such worship includes renewed and fruitful minds and humble and enlightened hearts, as we wisely and gladly receive the glory of God in and through the things that he has made.

Worship and thanksgiving spill forth from our souls to our bodies, as we offer our bodies as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God (Romans 12:1). This worship and gratitude reorient our sexual lives so that our renewed desires lead us into marriages, families, and fruitfulness. Rather than a war between the sexes, in which we despise, reject, and scorn each other, men marvel at the glory of women, and women admire and rejoice in the strength of men, as our families live beneath the blessing of God.

And then our reordered desires spill over the banks of our families and flood every aspect of our social lives, forming communities and cultures united by deep love for God and others. God’s law is our delight. Evil gives way to goodness, covetousness to contentment, and malice to benevolence. We cast off fellowship-killing envy and instead give thanks to God for his blessings to others. Strife ceases and peace reigns. We put off malicious lies and instead speak the truth with magnanimous hearts. Instead of using words to tear down and destroy, we build up and encourage. Insolent pride turns to meekness and humility. By God’s pleasure and grace, “foolish, faithless, heartless, and ruthless” becomes “wise, steadfast, compassionate, and merciful.”

This is the way of life that God has set before us — the Godward life — and it was not without great cost. God himself, in the person of his Son, took our flesh and dwelled among us, and gave himself for us, to turn the curse inside out and make it a blessing. And he plants this seed in every regenerate heart through the new birth, as we see and savor the goodness and grace of Christ. And as he pours out his grace upon us, this glorious vision multiplies in churches and homes and communities around the world, for his glory and our joy.