Little Ones, Sent Out

You receive a text inviting you to a little get-together, maybe a garden party or cookout, next weekend. You decide you want to go, or maybe you feel like you have to go out of some sort of social obligation. But after you accept their invitation, you, of course, send the following text: “What can we bring?” And you wait. Maybe they’ll text back some suggestions, “Rolls, potato salad, a watermelon,” or they’ll text back, “Nothing! We’ve got it all covered.” 

But I bet even if they say nothing, you will refuse to come empty-handed. “Let’s grab a bottle of wine, even if it makes us a little late.” Or “We gotta at least bring over some chips and dip.” Because it’s possible they don’t even mean it when they say, “Nothing!” This refusal might just be part of the game of politeness, which, funnily enough, often enjoins us to say precisely what we don’t mean. Mark Twain said it this way: “The highest perfection of politeness is only a beautiful edifice, built, from the base to the dome, of graceful and gilded forms of charitable and unselfish lying.” 

But, you know, it’s just the nice thing to do. Let’s bring a little cake or something from the bakery down the street.

For the past 3 Sundays, Jesus has been sending out his disciples. He has promised a bountiful harvest, given his disciples the power to heal the sick, cast out demonic forces, and even to raise the dead. They aren’t to accept payment because they “received without payment.” They are given warnings about the dangers ahead, but are promised that they’ll have the right words when the time comes. Jesus reminds them of their significance to God, and they are steeled against the offense that preaching about the free gift of God will doubtless cause.

And this morning we read that they were told to accept the hospitality of those they find along the way. In other words, they are bringing nothing to the party, but the shoes on their feet and the clothes on their back, without even a change of clothes for after the pool.

We like to imagine Jesus as the great host of a party, where everyone is invited, and that’s because in many places in Scripture, that’s exactly how the Kingdom of Heaven is depicted–a great feast with Jesus at the head of the table and as the most gracious host. But, in his earthly life, in earth’s kingdoms, Jesus and his disciples weren’t hosts; they were guests. Remember that’s what kept getting Jesus into trouble, he kept going to parties hosted by all the wrong sorts of people, eating and drinking with tax collectors and sinners. 

No, Jesus in his earthly life was much more like a hungry and thirsty guest who, at the end of the event, would ask to spend the night, because he had nowhere else to go. And, this morning, we catch the tail end of his instructions to his disciples or “little ones” as he calls them, as he’s sending them out, and he encourages them basically to do the same.

It would be easy to take a brief look at our Gospel text this morning, these three short verses, and surmise that it’s about hospitality, and so the message for this morning is “Be hospitable!” As a visiting preacher fresh out of seminary, that might have been the safer route, because it might have ensured you were all nice to me. Yet, in fairness to our text this morning, it contains the exact opposite message; instead, it says, “Receive hospitality!” And we’re somehow supposed to take this as the final words of Jesus’s masterful outreach strategy? 

No, no, no, Jesus. See, outreach is about hosting a great party. You get a bounce house and a slip-and-slide, and you put it in the church lawn, and you show everyone a good time, and you show them how fun church can be, and how not weird we are, and then you hope they kind of get the message that in exchange for all our generosity, they should probably come to church on a Sunday. And Jesus turns our ministry plans on their head, stands back and says, “Ahh, that’s much better,” counter to all the advice you might read in a book about church growth. While we think God comes in strength and spectacle, he always comes at us sideways, humbly and in lowly estate. Because the power of God is made perfect in weakness.

I wonder where those places are that you’ve been invited? Maybe it IS a weekend social function, or at your school, or your kid’s school, made to stand awkwardly in a pick-up line with your kids ’ friends’ parents, or at their sports practice, at the coffee shop, or at your work’s monthly happy hour event? In these places where you show up as a guest, with nothing in your hands to offer, those places where you might feel like a total misfit, still in gym shorts and yoga pants, while everyone else is at least business casual. Maybe you’ve been invited into a group of old friends and are the odd one out. These are places where you aren’t in control of the situation, where you are made to embarrassingly accept the hospitality of others. I wonder if it isn’t in these very places where Jesus has sent you, as his disciples, not armed with anything but the hope that lives within you.

Because that’s usually how the Gospel comes tumbling out, in the small moments. In those places that seem like nothing much at all, in a simple offer to pray for a friend, family member, or coworker. Jesus promises to show up in the most insignificant places, like three splashes of water, a little bit of bread, and wine. And in 30 AD, you could find him awkwardly shuffling around a party where everyone else knew each other, being sometimes peppered with questions about God. Yet nestled in our 3 short verses for this morning, where Jesus seems to encourage his disciples to overstay their welcome, there comes a tremendous promise.

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” Later, “whoever welcomes a prophet, or a righteous person, or a disciple receives their reward.” Could you imagine if I told you that whoever gives a glass of water to someone with a Ph.D. receives a doctorate? Yet, that’s just what Jesus says here. It turns out that when you welcome a disciple of Jesus, you receive their reward. And of course, the disciples did little but receive from Jesus, who was sent from the Father. So, that means you whether you know it or not, have connected yourself to one long chain of reward that leads all the way back to Jesus, the only righteous one, not only a prophet, but the very Word of God who spoke reality into being.

The collect, or summary prayer for this morning, is really apt, it was “Almighty God, you have built your Church upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone: Grant us so to be joined together in unity of spirit by their teaching, that we may be made a holy temple acceptable to you.” That’s in stark contrast to the edifice of politeness that Mark Twain spoke about. Instead, this temple is built upon Jesus, who not only spoke truth, but who was the Truth itself.

Whether you want to always identify yourself with Jesus, Jesus is eager to identify himself with you. While we have received the teaching of Jesus. Some 2000 years later, we have not only become his students, but we have been joined to him, receiving his benefits, as if we were righteous ourselves, as if we were prophets, as sons and daughters. It’s really only a true child who could be so bold as to pray “Our Father.” But that’s just what Jesus has given us, the relationship he enjoys with his Father. Jesus looks at us and the mess of the life we make for ourselves, or happen to find ourselves in, and says I choose you, give to them everything that is mine, give them my reward.

Ultimately, we might prefer reciprocity. We never want to be seen taking more than our fair share. You invite me somewhere, and I’ll bring something. You get me this time, and I’ll get you next. We like everything to be ‘even-stephen.' 

But that’s not how grace works. We have been lavishly given the gifts of God, and we’re sent into the world, not able to give much ourselves, waiting upon the kindness of others, looking for those who let us into their life, and simply pointing to the way that leads to Jesus.

Jesus has given you his own Spirit; he promises to go with you to all the places you find yourself, this week, and every week. You are sent out into the world with little else to offer except the message of the unwavering love God has revealed to us in Jesus. 

And in spite of all the social graces you might have been taught, in this case, it’s better to receive than to give.

Amen.