Dr. Darrell Champlin, Missionary Statesman, 1932-2015

Why is there such a thing as missions at all? If the world were as it ought to be—no rebellion, no death, no distance from God—the very idea of missionaries would make no sense. Missions exists only because something has gone terribly wrong. It belongs in a world of emergency, not a world of Eden.

From Genesis 3 to Revelation 20, Scripture is a record of sin, divine intervention, and salvation. It reveals a universe at war, a cosmic conflict that began before Eden and now touches every human soul. Lesson Five sets missions within that war. It argues that until we see the reality of sin and the conflict of the ages, we will never feel the weight, the urgency, or the privilege of God’s missionary call.

The Bible presents the story of sin not as a minor mistake in an otherwise neutral universe, but as an invasion into a realm that originally reflected God’s holy order. Before Adam and Eve fell, there was already a rebel: a created being often identified with “Lucifer,” portrayed in Ezekiel 28 as an anointed cherub, a guardian of the very holiness of God.

Cherubim appear throughout Scripture at the place where God dwells and meets with His people. They stand at the east of Eden with a flaming sword, preventing sinners from reentering the garden on their own terms (Genesis 3:22–24). They overshadow the mercy seat in the tabernacle and temple, where the blood of sacrifice was offered and where God promised to meet with His people (Exodus 25:17–22; Psalm 99:1).

In that context, the notes suggest this striking idea: the one created to guard the holiness of God against sin’s intrusion became the very one through whom sin entered the universe. Isaiah 14 paints a picture of a proud being who said in his heart, “I will ascend…I will make myself like the Most High.” His attack was not simply against abstract goodness; it was against El Elyon, the Most High God, the rightful ruler of heaven and earth.

From that moment, history becomes the story of a cosmic war: a dethroned creature striving to usurp the throne and the Almighty refusing to relinquish His glory. Missions is one of the chief ways the Sovereign Lord displays that Satan’s revolt will not stand.

To understand why missions matters, we must know the God who calls.

El Elyon is the Most High God, ruler of the universe and owner of every nation and people. When Jesus says, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me. Go therefore…,” He roots the Great Commission in that same reality (Matthew 28:18–20). The One who sends us is not a local deity asking for volunteers; He is the rightful King reclaiming His land and His people.

Jehovah is the knowable I AM, the self-existent One who reveals Himself. He is holy—separate from sin and devoted to His own glory—yet He also reveals a heart of righteous love for sinners. His holiness means He must judge sin; His love is expressed through sacrifice. From the animal slain to clothe Adam and Eve to the Passover lamb to the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ, He makes a way for sinners to draw near without compromising His justice.

El Shaddai is the all-sufficient, dependable God, “the breasted one,” who nourishes, strengthens, and makes fruitful. He met Abraham in his old age with the promise of a multitude, and He continues to sustain His servants in the hardest places.

Jehovah Sabaoth is the Lord of hosts, the commander of the armies of heaven. The prophets call on this name when judgment is looming and battle is underway. He is not only the Shepherd of Psalm 23; He is the warrior-king of Psalm 24 and the general who sends His people into conflict, not as tourists but as soldiers.

El Olam is the everlasting God, eternal and unchanging. His purposes do not flicker with time or circumstance. The same God who promised Abraham that all the families of the earth would be blessed in him is still working that plan out today.

When we truly know this God—His holiness, His love, His power, His faithfulness—we begin to see missions not as a human project but as participation in His war to reclaim a rebel world.

Where does this conflict unfold? The notes emphasize several “arenas.”

First, the entire universe is a theater of spiritual war. Christ has triumphed over principalities and powers, yet Scripture speaks of “the prince of the power of the air” and of spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Christ’s ascension is pictured as a victorious march through these ranks, disarming and defeating them.

Second, heaven itself has been a scene of conflict. Job 1–2 portrays Satan appearing among the sons of God, accusing Job before the Lord. Revelation 12 speaks of war in heaven and the casting down of the accuser. God’s throne is unshaken, but the reality of opposition is undeniable.

Third, the primary arena is earth. Here, Satan blinds the minds of unbelievers; the whole world lies in the power of the evil one; nations rage and peoples plot in vain. Here also, Christ sends His church: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.” Open doors, closed doors, and reopened doors in missions are not merely geopolitical phenomena; they are part of this larger war.

Missions, then, is not a peaceful exchange program. It is an invasion into enemy-held territory with the liberating news that the rightful King has come, has died, and has risen, and that He now commands all people everywhere to repent.

The notes turn next to a powerful Old Testament illustration: Moses in Exodus 32. While Moses is on the mountain receiving the law, Israel corrupts themselves at the foot of Sinai. God tells Moses, “Go down…your people…have corrupted themselves.” God did all the saving, but He speaks as though Moses is responsible for these people under his care.

Moses first responds with good theology. He reminds God of His people, His name, and His promises. He appeals to God’s glory before the nations. But the text suggests that before Moses can truly intercede, he must see what God sees. When he descends the mountain, hears the noise for himself, sees the idolatry, and beholds the wreckage of their sin, his reaction changes. He breaks the tablets, confronts Aaron, calls out the sin publicly, and even orders judgment.

Only then does he go back up the mountain with a different heart: “Oh, this people have sinned a great sin…yet now, if You will forgive their sin—but if not, blot me, I pray You, out of Your book.” Moses becomes willing to stand between a holy God and a guilty people, loving them enough to plead for them and fearing God enough to take their danger seriously.

This is a portrait of missionary calling. Missions is not an abstract concern for “the nations,” but a willingness to be God’s man or woman standing between God and a people, and between a people and their God. It is not short-term only; it is, in many cases, lifetime, life-and-death commitment for the glory of God and the good of souls.

If the world’s problem were merely ignorance, education might be enough. If it were merely poverty, development might suffice. But Scripture insists the problem is deeper: sin, rebellion, and spiritual death. Missions proclaims that there is a remedy—the blood of Christ shed for sinners, the true mercy seat where fellowship with God is restored.

In this cosmic war, God does not need us to complete what He cannot. Yet He graciously commands and invites us into the fight. He has all authority, all power, and all resources. He has won the decisive victory at the cross and in the resurrection. Still, He sends His people with the gospel as His chosen means of applying that victory to hearts and nations.

The question is not whether the war is real; it is whether we will live as spectators or as soldiers. Will we “stand between,” as Moses did, as Paul did, as generations of missionaries have done? Or will we remain content to know the story of the war while refusing to enter the field?

God’s call in this lesson is simple and searching: see the world as He sees it, feel the weight of sin as He feels it, and then offer yourself to be His person in His war. As you come to know El Elyon, Jehovah, El Shaddai, Jehovah Sabaoth, and El Olam, let your heart say, “Here am I; send me.”

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