by Marti Fischer
Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matthew 28:16-20
The final scene of Matthew’s Gospel is not set in a temple, a city, or a place of safety. It unfolds on a mountain—exposed, elevated, and unmistakably public. The resurrected Jesus stands before the remaining eleven, the ragged core of a movement that will soon turn the world upside down.
And Matthew tells us something startling:
“When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.”
This is the condition into which the Great Commission is spoken—not to the fearless, not to the fully confident, not to the spiritually elite, but to worshipers who still carry doubt. Then Jesus speaks words that have echoed for two thousand years:
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations…”
Authority Has Been Given—But Not Taken
Jesus does not ask His followers to earn authority, generate authority, or prove authority. He declares that it already belongs to Him—fully, finally, cosmically.
And yet, here is the paradox of the modern church:
We affirm Christ’s authority
We confess Him as Lord
We worship Him as King
…and then we remain largely stationary.
We are content to know Jesus reigns, without living as if His reign demands we do something. Why?
We Have Confused Belief with Obedience
Much of contemporary Christianity has quietly redefined faith as intellectual agreement rather than embodied allegiance.
We believe Jesus has authority—but we behave as though it is symbolic, not directive. We sing about surrender—but structure our lives around safety, predictability, and control. We admire the Commission—but treat it as a specialty calling for missionaries, pastors, or the unusually bold.
Jesus did not say, “Therefore contemplate.” He did not say, “Therefore feel deeply.” He said, “Therefore go.”
We Prefer Proximity Over Mission
The disciples were told to leave Galilee—to move outward, not inward. But over time, the church has learned how to gather without scattering, to convene without being sent.
Homes and offices become sanctuaries of comfort. Schedules become immovable. Faith becomes privatized. We have learned to practice Christianity without interrupting our lifestyle. Yet the Kingdom of God has never advanced through comfort. It proceeds through obedience that entails cost.
We Are Intimidated by the Scale of the Call
“All nations” feels overwhelming.
The enormity of the task can paralyze us. We tell ourselves:
I’m not enough.
I don’t know what to say.
The culture is hostile.
Someone else is better equipped.
But Jesus did not preface the command with reassurance about our competence. He anchored it in His presence:
“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”
The call was never to go alone. It was to go with Him.
We Underestimate What “Going” Actually Means
For many, “go” does not require crossing oceans. It requires crossing thresholds, such as:
Conversations we avoid
Relationships we keep superficial
Spaces where faith is unwelcome
People we avoid because they do not think, vote, live, or believe as we do
Going isn’t always about geography. Often, it’s about relationships, work, and daily life. To go is to bring the life of Christ into places where it is not yet named, trusted, or understood.
Worship That Does Not Move Is Incomplete
Notice the order in Matthew’s account:
They worshiped.
They doubted.
Jesus sends them anyway.
The Great Commission is not a reward for spiritual certainty. It is the remedy for stagnant faith. Faith deepens in motion. Authority becomes tangible in obedience. Doubt is clarified not by retreat, but by participation.
The Question Is Not Whether Jesus Has Authority
That question has already been answered. The real question is this:
If all authority in heaven and on earth truly belongs to Jesus, what justifies our refusal to follow Him outward—into the world He is redeeming?
The commission still stands.
The presence is still promised.
The world is still waiting.
And the command remains unchanged:
“Therefore go.”
John Fischer The Catch 
If we had certainty, no faith would be needed.
Last April our local newspaper reprinted a commentary written for The Los Angeles Times by James Milley, a minister at a SoCal Church.
I was “inspired” to clip the article back then for a future purpose which I now believe has arrived.
Over the last several months the clipping got buried and forgotten under other papers and detritus but, oddly, managed to wriggle itself to the top of the pile right after reading todays Catch.
The article (March 29, 2025) is entitled, “It is not faith that divides us.“
You can read Mr. Milley’s entire contribution to the LA Times here:
Contributor: It is not faith that divides us – Los Angeles Times
Key excerpts, which dovetail with and affirm Marti’s message above are:
Uncertainty… is the permanent human condition, and it can be a gift.
…in the middle of the recent film ‘Conclave’, the dean of the College of Cardinals, delivers a homily to the cardinals before they begin their deliberations:
“There is one sin I have come to fear above all others: certainty.
Certainty is the great enemy of unity.
Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance,” he says.
“Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand in hand with doubt. If there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery, and therefore no need for faith.”
An act of faith in the face of uncertainty.
...a friend (of Milley’s), born into a Jewish family that managed to survive living in Hungary under Hitler’s Nazis [and] then under Stalin’s Communists… isn’t a believer in God in the traditional sense.
He seeks to live an ethical life but sees God as a catastrophic failure, given the Holocaust and the insanities of injustice in societies we call “developed.”
I understand why he would question and doubt the goodness of God and God’s existence.
When he and I met, he said: “I always thought people with faith meant they were certain in their belief. They sure acted that way, and I didn’t want to be like them.
But in ‘Conclave’ I was led to think.
According to how I interpret the cardinal, faith could be defined as living in a certain way, as if there is something giving us a purpose and a measure of good, even when we are not certain about that something.
This is a radical redefinition of the word ‘faith’ for me.”
I told my friend that I believed he was a person of faith. I’ve watched him be kind to a person living in a van in front of his home, defending him when most neighbors were having meetings about how to get homeless people out of their neighborhood.
I shared with my friend the biblical story about the reaction of Jesus’ disciples when they encounter Him — alive — after He was killed on the cross. The text says they worshiped Jesus, yet it also says, “And some doubted.”
They were looking at the resurrected Jesus.
They doubted, and yet they worshiped.
The exercise of faith does not mean the absence of doubt.
The apostle Thomas was one of those who doubted. Jesus came to him to show him the scars on His hands and His feet. Jesus did not chastise Thomas or condemn him. Jesus encouraged his ability to trust, believe and act by his faith.
We exercise faith when, lacking certainty, we do what we think God would want us to do — or when we do what we think is right, to put it another way for my nonbeliever friends.
Could it be that certainty — especially, these days, political — is the thing that divides us, rather than faith? I think “Conclave” got it right: “Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance.”
How lovely on the mountains are the feet of them who bring Good News!
Shalom, Peace… 🙂