Sermon by Garrett - July 3

Jesus looks at his disciples, and gives a most frightening word: “I send you out like lambs among wolves.”

It makes me think of my freshman year on the high school basketball team; for whatever reason I found myself suited up on the varsity basketball team. It was the biggest game of the year. We were playing John Carroll High – the private Catholic school who could recruit. 32-0. They were big. And athletic. Think the guys from the movie 300 – except they are in jerseys and they can all dunk - heck even the water boys dunked. They played fast and hard. A joy to watch; an absolute nightmare to play against. I was overjoyed that I was on the bench. And that’s when our starting point guard went down. “Oh mercy, I thought to myself. Please, be okay Tyler.” And you can bet that my prayer life kicked into overdrive: “Lord heal thy servant Tyler.”

The gym was silent as Tyler was still down. And that’s when I heard my name being called. “Yates. Let’s go.” John Carroll guys were squeaking their shoes, readjusting their mouthpieces, and hitting one another on the chests. And the pencil-framed freshman quivered along and bleated his way to the scores table – I stepped onto the court, a lamb sent out among the wolves.

Let’s be honest with ourselves. We are fine to be a sheep if we are scrimmaging the JV. We are fine to be sheep if the scene is Psalm 23. “Sure we’ll be sheep Lord if you want us to go fluff around in the grass next to the calm waters. “

There is a version of Christianity tells a story like this; it’s known as the prosperity gospel. It’s the story that being a Christian is all about being peppy and prosperous. And one’s spiritual zip code is 90210. Who wouldn’t want this?

No, no, no, Jesus says to us today. Christianity is ministry among the wolves.

Alright, well let’s pack the bags – Peter, you’ve got the packing list with you right? Clothes, sunscreen, a wilderness survival guide. And Jesus says, “Nada. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals. You are not going to need this on this journey.

Carry nothing with you. That’s an interesting message isn’t it. We all carry so much – we carry hopes and dreams. All the things we carry – that’s where we derive our identity. Our griefs and our guilts. We are like Gollum’s clutching onto our rings of security: “Precious…”

And Jesus says to us, just as surely as he said to the disciples. “Leave it all behind. Unburden yourself. This Independence Day weekend why don't you free yourself from that.”

I send you out as sheep among wolves.

But what does Jesus send us out to do? What is the mission of those sent out? Perhaps we can open the question out even further: according to this passage what does it mean to be a Christian?

“Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide.” That’s what he tells us. He says more, a lot more, sure, but I think the crux of what he is saying is here. Don't move around. Stay put. Remain in the same house. As the unparalleled theologian Phil Dunfy of Modern Family says in a rare moment of adult clarity, 90% of being a good father is being there with your kids. The same could be said about Christian mission: just be there. Embodied presence; full attention. Listen as if your entire life depended on it.

Listen to what, we ask. Is Jesus seriously telling us to pull up a chair to these wolves? It is kind of what he is saying.

We all hear the growls and howls of the world. We hear it all – we hear it all the time.

But, you’ll know that Jesus isn’t telling us to hear the world; he is telling us to listen to it. Listen. Don’t just hear the headlines; listen to them, and hear the heartache behind the story. Listen to the hungry and cynical rhetoric and let your heart fall soft as you feel the loneliness of the speaker. Listen to the wolves – in all their posturing, and hear the desperate cry to be loved.

Remain in the house, Jesus says, and listen. And as your heart breaks for the broken heart of the world, you will find the heart of Christ, his heart of peace, beating for you and beating through you. What we call this fragile and sacred space is the kingdom of God. This is the place where the vertical walls that we build to separate us, are turned horizontal and become a table of fellowship.

A little story from our mission trip in WV that I speaks at what I am trying to say. There was a gentleman who worked at HEP named Bo. Bo had a rough story – his mother mistreated him when he was little. So bad that he had to run away. And Bo dropped out of high school in the 10th grade, never to finish. My heart broke for this guy. He was understandably aloof towards the beginning of our week. He kept to himself, didn’t talk much – he was feeling us out. And you can imagine him being suspicious: Who are these fun-loving kids in lime green lama shirts? And our youth probably felt the same about him: who is this shirtless, tatted-up guy with a cigarette always in his mouth and concealed firearm fixed on his hip? But our kids took to Bo. They embraced him and took interest in his life. We received his hospitality, which took the form of eating some copperhead snake that he killed and cooked up for us. That's a true story. Andy for me, the highlight of the trip was watching the walls separating us, fall horizontal and become tables of communion.

The last night of the week, we held a community cookout followed by Eucharist. Everyone was laughing and cutting up and doing their thing as they had been doing all week; except this time, Bo wasn't sitting across the room, buried in his phone: right there in the middle of the fellowship was shy, aloof Bo, with a grin on his face as wide as the New River Gorge itself. Had everyone just met, or was this a class reunion? Either way, this wasn’t the 90210, this was West Virginia, and it was holy ground. And I swear it was "almost heaven."

There are many ways God could have saved the world. He could have snapped his fingers, waved his heavenly wand, and voila New Creation appearing like a rabbit out of the magician’s hat. God could have done that. He’s God. But God did something different. Actually it would be better to say that God is doing something a little different.

He is choosing the self-doubting, the burdened and the fearful – the sheep. They will surely be scared; but their very fear will not hold them back. Instead they will rely on the Good Shepherd. And they go out and love the world by listening it into new life. And they will do this while staying close to their Shepherd’s heart – so close that the peace of his life will begin to flow through them. And everywhere they go will be "almost heaven."

Friends, this is our story. We have work to do. We are being sent out.

As steady and as constant as a heartbeat, may we feel his peace sustaining us, rising among us, and pulsing out into the world.