The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost-The Rev Melanie Lemburg
The Very Rev. Melanie Dickson Lemburg
The 4th
Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 9C
July 6, 2025
When faced with an upcoming journey, I
have a tendency to overpack, especially if I wait and pack at the last
minute. I’ve been thinking about this
tendency of mine this week in the light of our gospel reading—when Jesus sends
out 70 disciples to go out ahead of him and to proclaim his mission. He gives them specific instructions about
what to take (not very much), where to stay (don’t move around from house to
house), how to engage with the people where you stay (eat what they give you,
offer your peace but if they don’t receive it, then move on to the next
town). By our modern standards, these
are some austere travel instructions, and it makes my little over-packer heart
anxious just to think about it.
But there’s much that we can learn from
today’s gospel reading. Some of the
highlights of this story include that Jesus sees abundance where others see
scarcity (“the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few”). Vulnerability is implicit in discipleship
(take nothing with you and eat whatever they give you). The faithfulness of the 70 leads to successes
that have unexpected results (not only do they spread the good news but they
discover that even the demons submit to them).
And even though the 70 disciples receive great power from God, the
greatest benefit of their faithfulness is that their relationship with God
develops and deepens through their trust in God and not in their own power.[i]
But this way of traveling, of being in
the world requires a certain degree of risk.
Here’s what another writer writes about this passage: “In commissioning
seventy disciples, Jesus invites them-and us-into practices of risk. Risk traveling lightly. Risk rejection and
welcome. Risk protest and proclaiming
the good news of God’s kingdom, which is coming near to every circumstance. This passage nurtures our capacity for
risking…”[ii]
It’s interesting to think about my
tendency to overpack, or to over plan in light of this. Perhaps it is my own attempt at ‘risk
management.’ And it has led me to wonder how Jesus calls us, even now, to take
risks in our life of faith, in our discipleship? What does it look like right now in our lives
of faith, to heed Jesus’s call to not overpack, to take less than what we need,
to be vulnerable and open to both hospitality and to rejection, to live into
his call to boldly proclaim the good news of God’s healing and restoration? What are the ways that we are called to this
kind of discipleship both in our upcoming journeys and in our everyday lives? Who are the companions that Jesus is sending
us out with, so that we are not alone on the road? Where is God’s peace revealed in our lives,
so that we may share it with others?
I will confess that in these final weeks
with you, I am trying to resist the temptation to overpack, over plan for you
and for me for our separate futures. We
are all being called to the risk of uncertainty, of not having the itinerary
completely nailed down. The temptation
is to try to stuff our suitcases full of everything we might need. But the call of Jesus is to be fully present
in this moment, to risk trusting God and also trusting our companions on the
way. And our gospel reading reminds us
of all the ways God shows up with abundance even when we expect scarcity, of
the ways God provides in the midst of our risk and uncertainty.
So this week, I invite you to think
about how Jesus is calling you to risk in your discipleship, in your living out
your faith. I invite you to examine
where you might be overpacking in your life or in your faith right now. Where is God calling you to risk both
hospitality and rejection?
In closing, I’ll share with you writer
Kate Bowler’s Blessing for Uncertainty.
“Blessed
are you who live here. The space between simple categories and easy answers.
You who wonder why this is your life, why you got this diagnosis, or why you
still struggle with infertility, or why you haven't found your birth
parents, or why you can't kick this addiction, or why your kids haven't come.
Blessed
are you who built a home on uneasy ground, who, despite your trying, your
asking, your searches haven't found the satisfying feeling of discovery and
blessed are you who never will. This is not an easy place to live outside of
certainty, outside of knowing, outside of the truth.
But
blessed are you who realize that love and beauty and courage and meaning can
still be found here amid the unease and frustration and sleepless nights.
May
you be surprised by your capacity for ambiguity, for the way it makes you a
great listener and a good friend for you or someone who knows how to feel your
way around in the dark and squint for the stars. I wish it were easier, dear
one, I wish I could have the answers you seek, but for now, may you find
comfort in the fact that you are not alone. Here in the gray, we are all
learning to live in the uncertainty of the unknowing.
So
blessed are we who live here together.”[iii]
[i] This section came from a homily I
preached on these lessons at St. Thomas on July 7, 2019.
[ii] Quote by Hierald E. Osorto in
Everyday Connections: Reflections and Prayers for Year C. Heidi Haverkamp, ed. WJK: 2021, pp 366-367
[iii] Shared on Kate Bowler’s Facebook
page on June 26, 2021 https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1FD8KjPGmy/
Comments
Post a Comment