“The missionary heart never closes itself off, never retreats into its own security, never opts for self-defence. It always desires to spread God’s love and transform the world around it.” – Evangelii Gaudium, 45
There was a time when mission was defined solely by going out into the world, venturing into unfamiliar places, and building bridges where none existed. To be “on mission” meant leaving behind the context of our own lives and cultures to offer aid, education, or spiritual guidance in places far from home. While this outward call remains, something significant has shifted—it is no longer the work of a select few. Pope Francis speaks of the importance of each of us as missionary disciples; we are all called to mission.
The understanding of mission has grown more expansive, more tender. It is no longer just about where we go, but also how we see. Mission is not simply about being called out into the world; it is an intimate invitation to journey inward, facing hard questions about the world around us—and about ourselves.
Mission begins within the quiet spaces of our hearts, with reflection: Why do we serve? How do we view those we seek to help? Have we opened ourselves fully to the lessons of those we encounter, or are we still led by a desire to fix, change, or instruct? These are uncomfortable questions, but they are the foundation of a mission that is not only active but contemplative, not only external but deeply rooted in a desire to embody God’s love.
Mission is not about giving from a place of superiority; it is about presence—about standing alongside others, not as instructors but as fellow travellers. We recognise that we have as much to learn as to give. This requires vulnerability, a letting go of the assumption that we always know what is best.
It is in these quiet spaces of reflection that we confront the assumptions, biases, and fears that shape our actions. We ask: Are we ready to meet others where they are, rather than where we expect them to be? Are we willing to listen deeply, to allow ourselves to be transformed by what we hear?
This inward call is a call to humility. It asks us to recognise the limits of our understanding and the ways in which we might unknowingly impose our perspectives on others. It invites us to see the world not as something to be fixed or explained, but as something to be loved, respected, and held in reverence.
At the heart of mission is the call to compassion. Yet, compassion is not always easy. It is not a feeling of pity, nor is it a fleeting act of kindness. True compassion asks more of us. It calls us to acknowledge and enter into the messiness of life, to walk alongside others in their pain and joy, and to embrace the openness that true empathy demands. This kind of compassion requires patience. It asks us to move beyond the instinct to correct or save, and instead to sit with uncertainty, complexity, and the unknown—accepting these same things within ourselves.
This may be the hardest part of mission: the willingness to be present with others without needing to change them. To offer love, not solutions. To honour the dignity and journey of another, even when we do not fully understand it. This is the deeper work of mission—learning to see with the eyes of God, to recognise the beauty and worth in every person, every culture, every way of life. Compassion is about relationship—first and foremost with God, and yes, with others, but perhaps most importantly, with ourselves.
One of the most transformative aspects of mission is how it challenges us to engage with the “other.” Those we meet in mission are not simply people to be helped; they are our teachers and guides, offering us new ways of seeing the world. Their stories, cultures, and experiences are gifts that expand our hearts, if we are open to receiving them.
In this sense, mission is an act of humility. It asks us to let go of the need to change others, to resist the urge to impose our worldview. Instead, it calls us to listen deeply and respect the dignity of those we encounter. Every culture, every community, holds its own wisdom. Our role is not to replace that wisdom with our own but to recognise it, honour it, and allow it to transform us.
Mission today is less about telling others how to live and more about showing, through our own lives, what it means to live with love. The best witness we can offer is not found in words, but in the way we choose to walk through the world—with humility, respect, and a heart open to change.
At its core, mission is about love—God’s love. But this love is beyond our full understanding. As human beings, we are limited in our capacity to grasp the infinite. We fumble, we stumble, we fall. Yet, it is in our fumbling, in our imperfection, that God’s love is most clearly revealed. Mission is not about perfection; it’s about being willing to show up and love, even knowing we will sometimes fall short.
Our mission is to reflect God’s love in the world—not by telling others what to do, but by living as best we can in a way that mirrors the love we have received. We are called to embody this love in our actions, relationships, and way of being. While we may never do this perfectly, it is the effort, the intention, the willingness to grow—that truly matters.
None of us are without fault. We all fall, we all make mistakes, sometimes grievous ones. But what defines us is not our failures; it’s what we do after we fall. Do we get back up? Do we learn? Do we allow ourselves to be shaped by our mistakes, by the grace of others, and by the constant call to growth? This is where mission truly happens—in the small moments of repentance, renewal, and recommitment to live more fully in love.
Mission is not a task to be completed. It is not a goal to be achieved. It is an ongoing call that follows us every day of our lives. It is found in how we choose to love in each moment, in how we open ourselves to growth, change, and transformation.
This is not always easy. The world is full of suffering, injustice, and pain. Yet, mission calls us to respond—not with despair, but with hope. To see the suffering around us and know that, even in our smallness, we can make a difference. Not by fixing everything, but by showing up with love, standing alongside those who suffer, and offering what we can.
At the same time, mission invites us to look inward, to ask how we might contribute to the very problems we seek to address. Are we willing to confront our own complicity in systems of injustice? Are we open to changing how we live, how we think, and how we interact with the world?
Ultimately, mission is about growth. It is about becoming more fully who we are called to be—not just as individuals, but as a community, as part of the larger human family. It’s about letting ourselves be changed by the love we encounter in the world, and allowing that love to shape us into people who reflect God’s love more clearly.
This is a lifelong journey. We never stop growing, we never stop learning, we never stop being called to mission. And this, perhaps, is the most beautiful part of the call: that we are never finished, that God’s love is always drawing us deeper and further—both inward and outward.
In living our mission, we invite others into this journey. Not by preaching to them, but by showing, through our own lives, what it means to live with love. By being willing to grow, to admit when we are wrong, and to learn from others, we become witnesses to the power of love to transform the world.
This is mission—not a static task, but a living, breathing invitation to live love in every moment. It calls us out into the world, but also deep within ourselves. It is the work of love, and it is never finished. It is always evolving, always growing, always calling us to go deeper—both outward and inward.