Missional Faith: The Next Steps After Receiving

**This article was originally posted by Diego Gomes to his blog www.diegogomes.blog please visit for more articles and reflections from Diego.

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I still remember my first concrete experience in a church setting. As a child, I had attended a few Sunday services at the Assembly of God church in Brazil, accompanied by my grandfather or some uncles. I also recall occasionally attending Catholic Masses as a child, always with a family member.

Then, on October 10, 2002, as a teenager, I walked into a Presbyterian church for the first time, making the choice to go on my own. The events that led me to choose that service are a topic for another post, but there I was, with an open heart — and, honestly, desperate for an answer.

Up until that day, in church environments, I had been fascinated by some things and frightened by others. On one hand, I loved the aesthetic beauty of the Catholic church; on the other, I felt distant from the rituals and liturgical sermons. I connected with some Pentecostal sermons (which were fervent, personal, and relatable), but I was also intimidated by the loud noises and expressive displays.

The crucial point is that I have always been intrigued by the person of Jesus and had a genuine hunger to know more about God. When I entered that Presbyterian church for a revival service one Thursday evening, I was ready to be found by Christ.

Generally, we tend to believe that we choose Jesus and decide to have faith, but although our will is certainly part of the equation, the awakening of faith is ultimately a continuous work of the Holy Spirit, until we’re ready to think we were the ones who made the decision.

Jesus was clear in the Sermon on the Vine, saying that it is not we who chose Him, but He who chose us. For many years, people had prayed for my salvation, planting seeds of the Gospel, until that day — when I was lost and desperate — when I was invited to church, and it was in that church meeting that Jesus revealed Himself to me.

Congregational music had a profound impact on my faith experience — and it still does today. There is something about singing our faith that moves the gears of faith in our hearts, giving us a growing sense of belonging and trust. The spontaneous, heartfelt prayers during that service (which did not sound like repetitive words, but like a real conversation) immediately grabbed my attention: those people seemed to know God intimately, and I wanted that too.

The sermon that night was about Jesus walking with two disciples on the road to Emmaus. The preacher emphasised that while Jesus spoke, their hearts burned — and my heart kept burning, confirming that it was Jesus, not the preacher, who was speaking to me. When the altar call was made, I immediately responded by raising my hands and inviting Jesus into my heart. It felt like casting a lure right into the mouth of a fish — it was impossible not to respond to such a clear message offering me a future and hope.

I have that kind of testimony where Jesus at once changed my life, and faith became an explosive seed of transformation within me. I know that is not the case for everyone, and some people go through a long process of conversion after being saved. For me, that same night, I was filled with a love I couldn’t describe and an urgency to share the message that had transformed my life.

Without anyone giving me a Bible lesson, without counselling or discipleship, in a single night at church, I understood that I had a mission. It was not one of the points in the eloquent sermon of the wonderful Presbyterian pastor named Tom. It was a real and effusive work of the Holy Spirit inside me.

In the following months, I experienced the reality of the baptism of the Holy Spirit while praying alone, without anyone explaining to me what was happening — but I understood everything within. My reason seemed “blown away” by heaven invading earth in my life. I saw an unknown courage become part of my personality, pushing me to evangelise.

I remember feeling a physical hunger that drew me to prayer. I began attending every available service at that church and taking part in prayer meetings and vigils. The adults were amazed and encouraged me. Elders prayed for me and blessed me with words, rides, and even offers for camp trips. The sense of community and family in the faith made me never want to leave that church.

A few months after being saved, at just 14 years old, I began preaching during school breaks to other students. That action attracted other Christian students and grew into a small Bible study group, followed by a big evangelistic event at the end of the school year. Combining music, arts, and passionate teens preaching, we were able to reach the entire community around our school and the adjacent university, with hundreds of people coming to our interdenominational event.

Today, I am fully aware that my salvation did not happen because of the Presbyterian church I started attending. Although I could not see it in my innocent, idealistic adolescence, the church had flaws. Yet, despite the human shortcomings — present in every church — the work of the Holy Spirit was vibrant enough to reach and shape me.

As I share my experience with different Christian traditions, my goal is not to discredit any or glorify others. I want to reinforce the truth that, as the Church of Christ on earth (the Church with a capital “C”), we are one large body with different expressions, called to a single beautiful mission. Every denomination and institution has problems and solutions, flaws, and beauties.

I am a direct product of Brazilian Catholic faith, finding renewal in Pentecostalism, which brought about a nationwide expansion of the Gospel (in a country as vast as Brazil). However, the Lord chose to reach me in a Presbyterian church with a renewed theology, but one that was experiencing a revival and becoming a charismatic community flowing in the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

There are many fruits in my life that can be attributed to that church’s investment in the early days of my faith journey. The clearest one was the wisdom not to disregard or stifle the ministerial potential of a young person, but to empower me to continue walking in God’s work. There was a deep deposit of biblical treasures in my early years, especially through the pastors Claudio and Alaid Schmidt, who taught me so much about God’s Word and modelled zeal and hunger for the Bible through their lives.

However, the greatest treasure I learned in those early years, and that has never left me, is that church is a place for giving, not for receiving. I saw around me older people, with real problems and full schedules, yet hungry for God. Certainly, the greatest impact that community had on me was witnessing that following Christ meant renouncing comfort and responding to the needs of the community and the mission.

No one needed to invite me to a special class on service, though the teaching on it existed. For that 13- or 14-year-old, seeing men and women sacrifice their time with family or career opportunities simply to serve in the church had a clear impact: Christianity involved people at every stage of life.

I remember hearing in one of my first Sunday School classes that God did not need me for anything, but He had chosen me as a partner in His kingdom. I quickly understood that I was a disciple, and, in just a few months, I could explain that there was a mission to preach the Gospel to all nations, to make disciples, and that somehow, I was part of that mission simply because I was a Christian.

Every time I went to church, I received something new. I was served, fed, filled, and empowered. But the reason for all of this was so I could fulfil the mission. Therefore, church was a place for giving. Yes, I received too, but that should never be my motivation if I wanted to be a mature Christian. After you receive, it is time to continue the cycle of Christian maturity, learning to give and serve, and to keep fulfilling the mission.

I can never be grateful enough for how those people helped shape an active and engaged faith in me. I believe heaven will reward them, and that any fruit I eventually bear will be credited to them as a reward.

I could write a thousand texts diving deeper into the concepts I have shared here, but for today, I will close with a simple question — and with it, I hope to provoke some reflection:

If the definition of mature faith is simply understanding that faith is about giving, not receiving, could your faith be considered mature?

Think about it.

Until the next post.