Matthew 9:35-10:8 - June 18, 2023

Today we hear the list of the Twelve disciples. And when we hear those names read aloud, we may wonder how in the world we fit into all this. These are important guys, after all, the ones Jesus chose to follow him, the ones who did wonderful things - things so wonderful they got recorded in the BIBLE of all places. It’s easy to feel left out, or at the very least, distanced from such a prestigious group of people. 

That’s how I felt when I read it, at least. I mean, in two thousand years, will anyone remember St. Philip Lutheran Church or Pastor Jason or anything we have done here? “Well, not with that attitude they won’t,” I thought at first. Because we do like to see ourselves as having a somewhat prominent role - the do-ers, the helpers, the heroes of the story. Take most parables and we often first associate ourselves with the one who “does good” in the story - the good samaritan comes quickly to mind. 

But then reality set in, and I felt a little insignificant once again. Because sometimes, we need the help. Sometimes, we need someone else. Sometimes, we aren’t the hero. 

Since part of my job is to not give up on Bible stories by preaching first-reaction, gut feelings, I wondered how does this teach us, lead us, speak a word of Good News to us? 

As I thought and reflected, sometimes the good news - the good news that we need to be reminded of - is that you don’t have to be famous. You don’t have to be written in the annals of history or have legendary stories told about your life for God to call, empower, love you. Because honestly, our lives are often the opposite of legendary status. 

Instead of feeling left out that I wasn’t in that list of disciples, I started to see that there is a place in the story for everyone else, too. The crowds are there; the crowds who are described as “harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” I’m one of the crowd; you probably feel that way, too. Because there’s always something, always something that leaves us feeling a bit unprepared, a bit powerless, a bit vulnerable to what is going on. 

That may be an odd thing for someone who just came off of a restful vacation to say, but I know. I know for a fact that is true for people in this room, for people who are at home, for people who aren’t here. I know because I’ve been with you through it. There are life changes, health changes, changes in jobs, in deaths, in relationships. There is anxiety about the future because of those changes; there is a longing for what was, either long ago or even just a few months ago. 

We wonder, “what’s the next step? Where do things go from here?” Things are good; then they’re not. Life is predictable, then it’s not. There are places, times, moments when we feel, where we are helpless. 

And it’s ok to admit that. Unlike most places in our lives, here in worship we can be real and honest. At church, above all places, we should be able to be the most honest about ourselves. Sometimes we are harassed and helpless, lost and uncertain. But feeling this way doesn’t mean we are failures; instead, it’s a sign that we’re a broken human being, stuck in this world with other broken humans. We are part of the crowd. 

And admitting this truth, owning this truth can help us hear the other truth in this passage: Jesus sees us and has compassion for us. Jesus sees you and has compassion for you. This is most certainly true. 

See, Jesus didn’t come primarily as a teacher, instructing us on how to improve our lives. He didn’t come as a motivational speaker, giving us “four easy steps” to have a better attitude. He didn’t come to judge us for having broken, hurting, lost, yet very real moments. Instead, Jesus came to bring the compassion of God to us and to the world. Jesus came to show God’s compassion in word and deed. Jesus came to live - and die - so that we would know, feel, see God’s compassion for us. 

In a world where pressure is exerted on us to display perfection in each and every way - to reach legendary status in something - we, instead, get a chance to tell the truth, to acknowledge our truth. We aren’t perfect (far from it), and yet, God is still for us. Jesus sees us - the whole of us - and he has compassion for us. 

And now, knowing both of those truths, we can look at the rest of this passage a bit differently. It isn’t really a “long time ago” type of story, full of super-disciples doing miraculous deeds. It’s actually about regular people sharing the compassion of Jesus. It’s the story of regular people, seeing others as Jesus sees them. 

These famous disciples were just regular people seen by Jesus, summoned by Jesus, and then sent by Jesus. 

And the same is true for us. Jesus sees us, Jesus summons us, and Jesus sends us - sends us out to share the compassion that he has revealed to us. So, we aren’t trying to be super Christians with miracles performed and renowned stories written. Instead, we reveal Christ - the one who does perform miracles and has had renowned stories written about him. We reveal Christ and Christ’s compassion. And we do that by sharing how Jesus’ compassion for us shows up in our less-renowned own stories. 

We tell of the forgiveness he gives when our last button gets pushed.
We tell how in difficult health situations, we felt Christ’s presence with us.
We tell of how Jesus’ resurrection provides the hope which turned our mourning into singing.
We tell how Jesus promises to be with us always, even into a future that has many changes and uncertainties.
We tell the truth, and we live out the truth: we’re loved even when we have the wrong attitude, when we feel undervalued, when we are lost. 

And on top of that, we aren’t sent on our own, trying to live up to some impossible standards, hoping that we keep a positive attitude the whole time. We get even more than Jesus’ words, more than his verbal promise: We are baptized; we get to touch water, a physical reminder that God claims us forever and always is compassionate, no matter what is happening in our lives. We get to taste and see that the Lord is good. Christ shows up in bread and wine, again giving us forgiveness, grace, and a foretaste of the feast to come. 

And then, after proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, having compassion for us, and gifting us with sacraments, the Holy Spirit, song and story for life together, Christ sends us out to a struggling world who needs to hear the truth of God’s compassion. People need Good News. People need what Jesus offers. And so Jesus calls, summons, and sends you and me. 

Our Shepherd has compassion for us. Love for us. Grace for us. A Call for us. Life for us. 

Today is about, worship is about, hearing the truth of God. That truth equips us to let our lives tell and show the story and compassion of Jesus. That’s where we fit into all this. 

God has compassion for us. Compassion enough to love us where we are; compassion enough to gather us; compassion enough to equip us in our lives; compassion enough to send us out to make a difference in the world God loves so much. 

And we’re part of that. That’s where we fit in. We’re loved. We’re sent. We share. We do the same as Jesus. For the sake of the Gospel.