The Mountain of Vocation

There’s a fascinating thing about driving across America.

If you’ve ever done a long road trip—maybe Route 66, maybe Interstate 95, maybe you’ve gone cross-country—you start to notice how the interstate system works. Highways aren’t built just to serve one neighborhood or one little town. They’re designed to connect whole cities, then entire regions, and eventually the entire nation.

Think about I-95. It starts way up in Maine and stretches down to Miami, touching countless states, cities, and cultures along the way. It’s funny, because we seem so far away — but I noticed just this summer that although I was born and grew up and now live in very culturally different places (Connecticut, Philadelphia, and Fort Pierce, FL, all of them have 2 things in common. US 1 and I-95. Straight through the heart of all 3 of these places is a road that connects very different people with very different ways of life. And I think that is outstanding. Or even more amazing, consider I-10, which runs coast to coast from California to Florida traversing Texas in between. Wanna talk about people who live differently and think differently right?

When engineers designed those roads, they weren’t thinking small. They weren’t thinking, “Let’s just make a nice little road for this one community.” They designed for movement, for connection, for expansion.

And here’s what’s wild: over time, more on-ramps have been added, more exits built, so that more communities can connect into that great artery of travel. It was never meant to stay narrow. It was meant to widen.

Now imagine if we tried to treat an interstate like a driveway. Imagine someone paving I-95 and saying, “Well, this is just for me and my three neighbors.” Absurd, right? A waste of its purpose.

But friends—that’s exactly the kind of mistake the disciples almost make in Acts 1.

We are closing in on the end of our summer series “Summer in the Mountains” and today we turn our eyes to the mountain of Jesus’s ascension — a place where their eternal vocation was given to them.

The author of Acts, Luke, tells us that after the resurrection, Jesus brings his followers to a mountain outside Jerusalem. They’ve seen him risen. They’ve walked with him, talked with him, eaten with him. And in that electric moment, the disciples ask him a question:

Acts 1:6 NRSV

So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”

You can almost hear their hope, their anticipation: Finally! This is the moment! Israel is back on top! Our people, our nation, our culture—it’s all about to be restored!

But do you notice the problem? They were still thinking too small. They were trying to turn an interstate into a driveway. They were asking when God would do something for their people, when all along God was preparing to do something for the whole world.

That’s the tension of the text. And if we’re honest—it’s the tension of our lives too.

Because let’s face it: we like a kingdom that looks like us. We like a kingdom that fits our subculture, our neighborhood, our preferences. We want Jesus to make our lives better, our nation stronger, our church more comfortable. But the kingdom Jesus promises? It’s wider. It’s bigger. It’s global.

The disciples wanted a throne for Israel. Jesus wanted a highway for the world.

So Jesus responds—not with anger, but with a redirection. He says:

Acts 1:7–8 NRSV

He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

Notice how Jesus shifts their gaze:

From Israel alone → to the ends of the earth.

From timing → to vocation.

From comfort → to calling.

“You will be my witnesses.” That’s the word. That’s the vocation.

And do you see the widening circle? Jerusalem (your home base), Judea (your region), Samaria (those people you’ve avoided), and the ends of the earth (every culture, every people, every subculture). The Gospel was never meant to shrink. It was always meant to widen.

Think of it like that interstate. Jesus is saying, “You don’t get to stay on the driveway. The Spirit’s power is building a road that runs further than you ever imagined. And your calling is to step on it.”

Now let’s clarify what it means to be a witness. Because for many of us, the word “evangelism” comes with baggage. We picture a stranger knocking on doors with pamphlets. We think of street preachers with bullhorns. We imagine awkward conversations with co-workers where we stumble through a memorized script.

But biblically, a witness is someone whose whole life points to Jesus.

To witness is to love your neighbor so well that people ask why.

To witness is to practice hospitality in a world of closed doors.

To witness is to serve the world around you with such joy that people wonder what drives you.

Yes, sometimes witness involves words. But the words have power only when the life behind them shines with the love of Christ.

As Wesley said, “The gospel of Christ knows of no religion but social; no holiness but social holiness.” Evangelism isn’t just what we say—it’s how we live together, in the church and in the world.

So how do we step into this vocation? How do we move from driveway thinking to highway living? Let me suggest three transformations—three widening moves.

1. From Comfort to Calling

For the disciples, the temptation was to settle for their own people. For us, it’s the same. We want a church that feels familiar, people who think like us, worship styles that suit our tastes. But the Spirit pushes us outward. Witness begins when we say, “My comfort isn’t the goal. My calling is.”

2. From Words to Witness

Evangelism isn’t a script; it’s a lifestyle. Yes, speak the name of Jesus—but speak it backed up by a life of love. Ask yourself:

Does my kindness at work point to Jesus?

Does my generosity with my neighbors point to Jesus?

Does the way I handle conflict, forgive wrongs, open my table—does it point to Jesus?

When the answer is yes, then your words have credibility. You’re not just telling people about the Gospel—you’re showing it.

3. From Local to Global (Without Leaving Home)

Here’s the beauty of living in America today: the nations are at our doorstep. Evangelism isn’t just about traveling overseas—it’s about crossing the street. Our cities and towns are mosaics of cultures, languages, and subcultures. Gamers, athletes, artists, immigrants, engineers, young parents, retirees—you name it. Each is a world in itself, and the Spirit is sending us into all of them.

The widening nature of the Gospel means that your witness matters right where you are. In your workplace. On your block. In your coffee shop. Online. Everywhere.

Maybe I’ve told this story before, but do you want to know how I came to know Jesus?

I came to know Jesus because when I was a kid searching for a place to belong and for a person outside of my own family to care for me I found a family through a friend that I made on the first day of 4th grade. I was at a new school and had no connections. This friend invited me to his house and we got close. One day his parents were hosting a party for their church. That was the day that I met Max. He was the pastor of the church. When he met me he gave me a hug. And then from around the corner came his daughter — who happened to be a friend and classmate of mine from my previous school.

Max instantly grabbed onto me and my family. He’s never let go. Even when I wanted to. Even when he went the way of the Itinerant pastor and moved. He still was there in some way or another. Max was there at my ordination. And when I was ordained I held the bible that he gave to me as a child. He showed me what God was like. He brought me into his life and showed me that I was important and that I was loved.

Honestly, this is what a witness looks like. This is what the goal is: to let people know that they are important and loved. By you and by Jesus. People are much more convinced of Jesus’s love when they witness your tangible love. They will recognize Jesus’s love when it’s been modeled by your love.

So here’s my challenge to you this week: one widening act of witness.

Don’t try to do everything. Don’t try to reach the ends of the earth all at once. Just widen your circle by one.

Invite someone outside your usual group to a meal or a walk.

Serve someone who cannot repay you.

Open your home or table to someone different from you.

Speak a word of grace where only cynicism is expected.

One widening act. That’s how the Gospel keeps moving. That’s how the interstate grows. That’s how the Spirit builds the kingdom.

Because vocation isn’t just your job title or your career. Vocation is who you are for Christ. You are a witness. And when you live that vocation, the widening kingdom of God touches the world.

The disciples climbed the mountain expecting a throne for Israel. Instead, they received a vocation for the world.

And friends, the same is true for us. The mountain of vocation isn’t where we sit back and wait for Jesus to make our lives easier. It’s where we hear his call to widen our witness, to step onto the Spirit’s highway, to love and serve until the ends of the earth are within reach.

So the question isn’t, “When will the kingdom come?” The question is: Will we live as witnesses, right here, right now, to the ends of the earth?