Text: Luke 10:1-11
Holy guests. That’s what the seventy apostles were, the ones whom Jesus sent out into the world. At their best, that is what missionaries are. Holy guests.
When we gather at Faith, we are hosts. When people come to worship here for the first time, they are guests. We have cards labeled “Guest” in the pews as one way for guests to introduce themselves. After you have been here once or twice, you become one of the hosts. The job of the host is to welcome guests, to help put them at ease, to introduce them to others, to answer questions they might have, to let them tell you about themselves if they wish, to feel at home. When it is at your home, you are the host. In some sense you are in control, the initiative is yours. So people sometimes say about a church that it is hospitable, or we say we practice hospitality, meaning it is something we do actively. If you don’t do anything to welcome a guest, people say the church is cold, or inhospitable. When some members of Faith moved to the West, the first church they visited said not one word to them the whole time. The folks in the church just stared at the wife of the couple and made her feel, she said, like an alien creature. One would not call that church hospitable.
But when you go out into the world, as a Christian, you are the guest. And not the host. And you practice something else, where you are not in control and the home is not yours, but someone else’s.
This story in Luke begins as a training class, where Jesus explains to seventy new apostles what they can expect on their mission (they can expect danger, like lambs walking among wolves—wolves like to eat lambs). And explains to them how they should pack (they should pack very lightly). And explains to them how they should behave (they should behave like guests). You can imagine them carrying little laminated reminder cards: how to be a missionary for Jesus. On one side it says: Introduction: Ask permission first to enter. And on the other side, to be used if and when you have been welcomed, are three clear steps: 1. Eat what is put in front of you. 2. Heal those who are hurting. and 3. Leave them a gift when you go.
The introduction: ask permission to enter. The apostles are given a small protocol to start with. Say to the host, Peace to this house. And if the host responds in kind, proceed. If not, leave and try again somewhere else. Not everyone wants to hear what you have to say. Some people are downright antagonistic, and some don’t care, and some are just too busy at the moment. The protocol is a way of asking someone: can I speak to you now? People go their own way on a path to God, and your help may be welcomed or not, depending not on you but on them. Or maybe it does depend on you, and they just would rather talk to someone else. You are only a guest when the host invites you in. Then you can turn over the card and follow the steps.
Step 1: Eat what is put in front of you. When you a guest in someone’s house, you eat what you are served. Unless it’s a potluck, you don’t bring your favorite meal with you. You don’t see what they have and then decide to send out for something else. You don’t tell everyone how you hate squid or fried food or eggplant or whatever. And you don’t look over the guest list and decide to go home.
The host sets the context. When you talk about your faith with someone, it is in that someone’s context. It is the host’s ears, not your tongue, that makes the connection work. His or her history, prejudices, prior experience, hopes and fears, that makes it work or not. And words that make sense to the host, not words that make sense to you. You cannot start a conversation by giving someone a dictionary of the words you’ll use. And the people the host hangs with are the host’s friends. It is not the job of a Christian to separate people from their culture.
Step 2: Heal those who are hurting. The ministry of Jesus Christ is a ministry of healing. That’s what the word “salvation” means. To heal. The word “redemption” means to free. The apostles are welcome—at least at first—not because they have interesting things to say or are enthusiastic about their convictions, but because they bring comfort, relief from unbearable burdens, freedom from fear, peace to replace anxiety, health to replace sickness. People are affected by healing actions more than by convincing arguments. It is the generosity, compassion, and persistence in the face of fear that makes people admire Christians. And when Christian are vicious, vengeful, and greedy, people unfortunately notice that, too.
Step 3: Leave a gift when you go. A guest sometimes leaves more than a “thanks for the grub.” A gift says how much the guest appreciates the host’s time and anticipates an ongoing relationship. The apostles do have something to say. They bring good news and present it when they leave. The kingdom of God is not some fantasy, they say. The world will not always be a place of suffering and violence. Despair is premature. Underlying Christianity is the conclusion that the broken world can be fixed, and that the world will someday be as God had hoped in creation. Jesus’ ministry is a sign and a demonstration.
The apostles are sent as an advance crew for Jesus. And in that sense they go as representatives of God. They reflect the ministry of Jesus that we share: communities around a common meal, healing, and guidance in our lives. God the creator, redeemer, and comforter is represented in the actions of these holy Guests.
This story in Luke is unique in the Gospels. Though there are other stories of the twelve sent out (even such a story earlier in Luke), this is the only time when other, unnamed followers of Jesus are sent by him. These are not special people, not priests, not leaders. They are you and me, ordinary people who are trying to follow Jesus and to help bring about a renewed world. We are not missionaries by trade, but when we speak of our faith to others, we speak as those who were sent.
Christians can be evangelical without being arrogant or bossy. We model the God we serve, and in that model, it is God who serves. When we speak of our faith, we come to others not as hosts. Not as beneficent givers of truth. Not attempting to control what happens and what the outcome might be. We come listening, healing, and giving. We come as holy guests.
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