June 25th,  Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Matthew 10: 24–39
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your Name.  Amen.

Last week – well, really after Trinity Sunday – we entered into the long liturgical season of Ordinary Time, which asks us to celebrate the commonplace in our lives and seek out the God who dwells with us in that place, quietly, peacefully.  After the anticipation of Advent, the celebration of Christmas, the long journey of Lent and the exuberance of Easter, we are asked to settle down and appreciate the unobtrusive Presence of the Lord all around us in our quieter, more ordinary days.
That, anyway, is the idea.  But you would never know — from reading our Gospel passage this morning — that Ordinary Time is now our season.  For in Matthew’s Gospel this morning nothing seems ordinary.  Everything the disciples have known before is being challenged and upended.  New challenges, in fact, are facing them and new levels of courage and wisdom are being asked of them.  What is ordinary about that?
After a couple of days of pondering that question, (and coming up, I have to admit, with few answers) I suddenly remembered something.  I remembered when Jesus first called the disciples to follow after him, he promised he would teach them to become fishers of men.  And becoming anything – anything you haven’t been before — takes time.  It also requires change, and not just change but transformation.
And when I saw this Gospel passage through that lens, I saw it in a new light.  Maybe at first, the disciples simply sat at Jesus’ feet, listening and learning.  They watched him as he performed miracles.  They saw how often he retreated to some deserted place to pray – just to stay connected to the Father he loved.  And they followed him into highways and byways, learning every day the compassion and concern, the joy and generous fellowship his ministry was all about.  This was the first stage of their learning process.
But this morning, the time of sitting quietly at Jesus’ feet is over.  Now, he says, it is their turn to go out and minister — to heal the sick and raise the dead, to cleanse the lepers and give sight to the blind.  As they do this, Jesus tells them, the real challenge won’t be the acts of mercy and miracle they will perform – by God’s grace — for those in need.  The real challenge will be to handle the mockers, the scorners, the ones jealous of their spiritual authority.  These ones, Jesus tells them, will try to pick fights with them because of the God they serve.  So the disciples will be, he tells them, like vulnerable sheep among a pack of wolves.  To survive, they will have to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves, trusting the Lord who has sent them out there to the world he loves, the world he will give his own life for.
That’s the paradox of the Cross.  And that’s the secret of this passage – that those disciples will follow Jesus not in fear or blind obedience, but in love.  For it is love for him and love for the world he loves that will motivate them and strengthen them.  And that love, in turn, will transform them into the extraordinary disciples they need to become to carry out Jesus’ call on their lives.
Oh, Jesus knows it won’t be easy.  For the servant is not above the master.  If the world has treated him badly, his disciples can expect nothing better.  If people have falsely accused him of serving Satanic forces, they will accuse his disciples of that and more.  Even their own families will misunderstand, he tells them.  This, in fact, Jesus tells them, is what they can expect in ministry.  This is what Ordinary Time for the servants of the Lord looks like.
Even so, they are not to be afraid.  They are to focus on the love rather than the fear, trusting that the sword Jesus wields will separate out the love he has called them to — from the hatred that opposes them.  For he knows the difference.  And he knows on which side of that dividing line they stand.
His Father too, Jesus says, knows them intimately, inside and out.  He has numbered every hair on their heads.  “In your own eyes,” Jesus tells them, “You might be among the sparrows of this world, the ones they sell two for a penny in the marketplace.  But in my Father’s eyes you are of infinite value, the apple of his eye, the child he has cherished from the very beginning.  And he will be with you in this difficult ministry I have called you to.  He will be with you every step of the way.
“So you can proclaim my truth to the world, even when they oppose you.  Don’t be afraid to say to them in the light what I have whispered to you in the darkness.  For always there will be some who will receive your words.  Always there will be some who will welcome you as the servant of God you are already becoming.  And it’s for these ones I am sending you out now.”
These are the words Jesus spoke – to those first–century disciples as he prepared to send them out.  And these are the words he speaks to us this morning too.  For no less than Peter and Andrew, James and John, you too have been called to follow Jesus in the loving path he has begun to lay out for you.  You too are among those he has chosen to redeem the world for which he gave his own life.
God knows, it isn’t an easy path.  God knows, already you have discovered some conflict, some opposition, some voices that would lure you off the path he has chosen for you.  But just as we sang a few moments ago, Love Himself, Love Divine now dwells in your heart – guiding you, strengthening you, transforming you into his own new creation.  That’s the love others now see in you.  And that is the love that will bring you home . . . to Him.
Amen.
 
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