On The Edge of Something New

After Easter: A Journey to Pentecost

Standing on the Edge of Something New

I want you to picture yourself there—on that mountain in Galilee.

The air is still. You’re standing in the same place where laughter once echoed as you walked beside the One who knew you, chose you, never gave up on you. You remember the sound of His voice. The way He looked at you—not with judgment, but with understanding. You had failed Him. Maybe you ran. Maybe you doubted. Maybe you broke under pressure. But here you are… and so is He.

Risen.

You’re still trying to catch your breath. The fear hasn’t fully left your chest. The shame clings to you like dust from the road. But His eyes? His eyes are steady. And instead of turning away from you… He steps closer.

Now imagine this: Jesus doesn’t begin with a scolding. He doesn’t lecture or remind you of where you went wrong. No guilt. No cold silence. Instead, He gives you something sacred—He gives you purpose. Not revenge. Not proof. Not vindication. But a mission.

He looks at people—at you—who have been wounded, who have questioned, who have wrestled with failure and fear… and He says: “Go.” Go—not because you’ve got it all together. Go—not because you’re finally strong. Go—because I have all authority. Go—because I am sending you. Go—because I am with you. He sends the very ones who faltered. The ones who doubted. The ones who still carry scars. Why?

Because those are the people who know how to love. Who know what grace really feels like. Who will never confuse this mission for a trophy or a platform. He doesn’t need polished performances. He sends the wounded to heal the wounded.

Part 2: When the Wounded Are Sent

Then Jesus came closer—not shouting from a distance, not commanding from above—but drawing near. And He said:“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me. Therefore… go.” Not just go do something. Go… because I said so.Go… because I’m not guessing. Go… because the authority to heal, to restore, to reclaim what’s been broken—it’s Mine. And I’m giving it to you. He doesn’t wait until they’re over their grief. He doesn’t wait until their trauma is processed. He doesn’t wait until the guilt of their failures has worn off. These are men who ran from Him. One of them denied even knowing Him. Some still doubted even as they worshiped. And these are the ones He sends.

Why?

Because grace has already changed them. Jesus is showing us something deeply personal here: The call to go is not for the strong. It’s for the willing.It’s for the ones who’ve wrestled with pain and still choose to follow. It’s for the ones who know how it feels to be forgiven… and can't help but tell someone else there’s still hope. You think your past disqualifies you? That’s the very thing God uses.

You think your wounds make you weak? No—your scars are proof that healing is possible. And when the pain comes—because it will—when people reject you, mock you, hurt you all over again… you don’t stand on your own strength. You don’t speak on your own name. You go under His authority.

You speak with the voice of the One who conquered death. You carry the love of the One who washed feet and wore a crown of thorns. You go with the certainty that you were chosen not in spite of your pain, but because through your pain, others will see Jesus more clearly.

The Mission of the Wounded—Make Disciples

“…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.” Let’s stop and hear that again—not just with our ears, but with our wounds. Jesus doesn’t tell us to go find perfect people. He doesn’t say go build a crowd. He says: make disciples. That word… disciple… It means a learner. A student. A follower. Someone who doesn’t have it all figured out but keeps coming back to sit at the feet of the Teacher.

That means this mission isn’t about being impressive. It’s about being honest. It’s about bringing people into a journey you’re still walking yourself. It’s about saying: “I’ve been broken too. I’ve doubted. I’ve failed. But I’ve met Someone who hasn’t given up on me—and I want you to know Him too.” This mission has two parts:

First—baptizing.Not just a ritual. Not just water. It’s a burial and a resurrection. It’s standing in front of the world and saying, “I’m not who I used to be. I’ve been made new.” It’s joining a family—not one that’s always easy, not one that’s always kind—but one marked by the mercy of God. It’s a declaration: grace found me here, and grace is still holding me.

Second—teaching.But not just teaching facts or rules. Jesus says, “Teach them to obey everything I’ve commanded.” In other words, teach them to live it. And how do you teach that? Not just by words. But by walking it out—even when it’s hard. By forgiving people who hurt you. By clinging to God when your faith is hanging by a thread. By choosing love when bitterness would be easier. That’s discipleship.

And if you’re thinking, “That doesn’t sound like me—I’m still learning…” Then you’re exactly who Jesus had in mind. Because you’re not teaching people how to be perfect. You’re showing them how to follow.

The Presence That Stays—and the Twist We Miss

“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” You can almost hear the weight in Jesus’ voice here. Not a farewell. Not a distant send-off. But a promise. And what a strange ending for a commission. He doesn’t say, “Good luck.” He doesn’t say, “I’ll check in on you later.” He says, “I am with you.” Always. When you're strong. When you’re shattered. When you don’t even know if you believe anymore.

You were never alone.

Jesus doesn’t wait for you to feel brave. He walks with you through your fear. He doesn’t require perfection—just a willingness to keep showing up. Think back: He stood with Peter when he was broken. He breathed peace into a room full of anxious disciples. He showed up—scars and all—to let Thomas touch the very places He’d been wounded. Because the Risen Christ doesn’t hide His wounds. He uses them. And now, the twist.

You’ve been waiting for God to show up. You’ve been begging Him to prove He’s still here. But maybe—just maybe—you are the proof. Maybe you, with your pain and your perseverance, your failures and your faith… Maybe you are how Jesus keeps His promise to the next person. Because when you show up in someone’s darkness… When you choose to forgive, to speak hope, to love again when it would be easier to quit…That’s Jesus, still walking the earth.

In you.

You are the proof that grace still works. You are the sign that God is still near. You are the answer to someone’s prayer: “God, are You really with me?” Yes. He is. Because you walked in. That’s the twist. We keep looking for Him in the clouds, and He keeps showing up in the scars of His people. He keeps His promise… through us.