Sent out to proclaim (a sermon on Matthew 9:35-10:23)

As we enter into the time after Pentecost, our paraments have changed to green and our Gospel readings move into stories of Jesus’ life and ministry. Accompanied by his twelve disciples, Jesus has been traveling around Galilee, preaching, teaching, and healing.

As Jesus proclaims the good news in all the cities and villages, he is moved with compassion. It is not enough for just one person to proclaim this message when there are so many who are lost, harassed, and helpless; so many who need healing and hope, who need to hear about the radically different inside-out and upside-down reign of God. The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.

What’s that? Laborers needed? I know twelve guys, Jesus says. Having given them authority to do the work as his hands and feet, Jesus sends the twelve out to bring about healing and wholeness, proclaiming in word and deed the good news of the nearness of God’s reign.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

The instructions the twelve receive are telling. This is necessary work, yes, but it is not without challenges. They are to be vulnerable, relying on God’s provision through the generosity of others.

They are to build relationships in unfamiliar places, lodging with the same household for the duration of their stay.

They are to freely give their greeting of peace, while also recognizing that not everyone will welcome them and their message.

They will undoubtedly experience division and hostility and persecution and uncertainty. The message they proclaim is simple, but it’s not always easy to hear and it’s even harder to live out. Even so, Jesus assures them that they do not do this work alone. When they are worried about how they are to speak and what they will say, Jesus reminds them that it is not them who speak, but the Spirit of their Father speaking through them.

Hearing these instructions, it seems as if our version of following Jesus is quite a bit more familiar with comfort than the disruption and uncertainty of which this passage speaks.

When was it that Christianity became a marker of respectability and gentility instead of something with the potential to cause division, something that points to difficult truths about ourselves?

When did we begin valuing the appearance of peace at the expense of proclaiming the good news entrusted to us, disruptive though it may be?

Is it the case that we are so worried about how we are to speak and what we are to say that instead we remain silent?

As we find ourselves in this particular moment in time, I am convinced that proclaiming the nearness of the reign of God means proclaiming that Black lives are precious to God, and that racism and white supremacy are sins, incompatible with the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Becoming anti-racist is necessary work, but, as we are finding, it is not without challenges. Like the disciples, we too are being sent out by Jesus to do this work.

Like the disciples, we are to be vulnerable, sitting with discomfort and risking embarrassment as we dig in to our own privilege and deep-seated biases and experience being challenged, convicted, and corrected.

Like the disciples, we are to build relationships in unfamiliar places, sticking with it even when it would be easier to leave when things get uncomfortable.

Like the disciples, we are to freely give our greeting of peace, while also recognizing that not everyone will welcome us and our message. Conversations that point out privilege and ingrained attitudes of white supremacy are not easy to have. Defensiveness flares up easily and anger is often close behind. Spend some time, but if someone is that resistant, shake off the dust from your feet and move on. There are plenty of others who will be more willing to listen.

Perhaps you will lose a few friends; perhaps rifts in your family will deepen; perhaps you will be labeled as “that person” who “can’t take a joke”, or who is “too political”. Do it anyway. When you are worried about how you are to speak and what you will say, remember that it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.

It is this assurance of God’s presence and grace that strengthens and empowers us to be sent out. We are not promised a journey free from difficulty or pain, but through the death and resurrection of Jesus, we are promised that God is with us always.

This God has compassion on, and is present with, those who suffer; with those who are harassed and endangered because of systems of oppression which do not value Black bodies as God-breathed and beloved. This God has compassion on us, and is present with us, who are lost and helpless. For a God who speaks in us and through us, we give thanks.


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