The Great Commission is an invitation to participate in what Jesus Himself drives forward
Even when we don’t feel ready, Jesus is already there working with us

On retreat with other priests, we found ourselves talking honestly about the weight of ministry these days. The stresses are real — fewer people in the pews, a culture that often feels indifferent or even hostile to the faith and a lingering sense that we need to find our footing again as evangelizers. It was the kind of conversation that happens when people feel safe enough to tell the truth. And somewhere in the middle of it, we kept coming back to the same passage: the end of Matthew’s Gospel, where Jesus gives His disciples what we call the Great Commission.
I’ve read those verses dozens of times, but something struck me fresh on that retreat. The command to go and make disciples — to baptize, to teach, to bring the world into relationship with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit — doesn’t stand alone. It’s sandwiched. On one side, Jesus says, “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” On the other side, He promises, “Behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.” The mission sits between those two anchors, and most of our struggles with evangelization come down to losing our grip on one or both.
The first anchor: He has all authority
“All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matthew 28:18). That’s not a modest claim. Jesus isn’t presenting Himself as one option among many, hoping we’ll give Him a hearing. He is Lord of everything. When we share the Gospel — with a neighbor, a family member, a coworker — we’re not trying to win an argument. We’re carrying a message that belongs to the King of the universe.
But often we don’t act like that. We hold back because we’re afraid of saying the wrong thing, of coming across as pushy or of being unsure anyone wants to hear it. Beneath that is a quieter doubt: Maybe His word isn’t enough. Maybe the Gospel won’t actually land. That doubt is worth naming, because it reveals how easily we lose hold of this first anchor.
The second anchor: He is with us
The second anchor is just as essential. “I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20). We are not sent out alone. The one who commands us to go is the same one who walks with us when we go. That means the conversation we’re dreading — the family member who’s drifted, the coworker who seems uninterested — Jesus is already there. He’s not waiting back at the church while we do the hard work. He’s with us.
When we tell ourselves we’re not qualified enough, articulate enough or holy enough to evangelize, we’re letting go of the second anchor. We’re acting as though we’d be alone, responsible for making the case for God on our own. But that’s not the mission Jesus gave us. We’re not salespeople pitching a product — we’re witnesses to someone alive and present.
Worshipping and doubting at the same time
There’s a detail in Matthew that keeps resurfacing: When the disciples saw the risen Jesus, “they worshipped, but they doubted” (Matthew 28:17). Both things at once. The same hearts held both responses. And Jesus didn’t wait for the doubt to clear before giving them the mission. He commissioned them right there, in the middle of it.
That’s good news. You don’t need everything sorted out to share your faith. You don’t need to be a theologian or a saint without any questions. You simply need to keep returning to the two anchors — in prayer, in Scripture, in the sacraments — and let them hold you when your confidence wavers.
The Great Commission isn’t a burden laid on an exhausted Church. It’s an invitation to participate in something Jesus Himself is driving forward — with all the authority of heaven behind it and all the warmth of His presence beside us. Go, therefore — not because you have everything figured out, but because He does.
A simple prayer for evangelizers
When you feel the nudge to share your faith — and the fear that comes with it — try praying:
Jesus, I believe in you — but sometimes I doubt. Help me to trust that you have authority over everything, and that you are with me.
That’s enough. He knows the rest.