"Come As (We) Are"

First Presbyterian Church
July 8, 2007
Peter S. Buehler
Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals…

When you go away from home on a trip, what do you take with you? What do you make sure to pack?

Changes of clothing, of course -- things to wear if it's hot or if it's cool, if the occasion is casual or dressy. Different types of shoes are a must, as are various toiletries and cosmetics. These days we pack our cell phones and cell phone chargers, our laptop computers, our hair dryers, probably a host of other electronic gadgets. We don't forget our credit cards, our debit cards, and our personal identification. We may need maps and Map Quest printouts to get where we need to go. We've got to have some reading material. We can't forget cash. Then there is always something obvious that we know we're likely to overlook -- socks and belts are what I tend to forget.

The fact is, even when we travel light, when we pare down what we pack, we still take a lot of stuff. Even if we're going away for a few days, our check list is lengthy. So it's amazing to hear the instructions that Jesus gives the seventy, these additional disciples we read about in Luke, as they prepare for their missionary journeys. It's the opposite of what we expect: he tells them what not to pack: Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals.

Essentially Jesus is giving the same directions he gave to the twelve disciples: Take nothing for your journey, no staff, no bag, no bread, nor money -- not even an extra tunic. In Mark's Gospel at least they are permitted a walking stick, but in Luke even that is omitted. Jesus says, in other words, Take nothing with you.

I find that inconceivable. I'm reminded of the report our youth gave us a few months ago of their mission trip to San Francisco and the day they were instructed to be homeless, to experience what homelessness was like -- to spend the day in the city with nothing on them but money for a one-way bus fare. The idea of doing that even for a day makes me uncomfortable.

Yet in the travel instructions he offers, Jesus is saying something important. What does it mean to be a missionary? Do missionaries constitute a small category of disciples, limited and exclusive, or is it a broader group, a wide category? Whatever our definition, Jesus wants us to begin by being personal; the main thing is to engage the people we meet where they are and how they are. To be focused and undistracted, and therefore fully present when we are in the company of others, able to share with them from the heart about faith, about life.

According to Jesus, being a missionary begins with asking for and accepting hospitality. For the seventy, this meant staying with the people who opened their homes, eating whatever food was set before them, not checking whether the neighbors were serving something better -- barbeque instead of soup, fondue instead of grilled cheese. The disciples were to pronounce Peace upon the houses they visited -- it wasn't just a social visit, they were to talk about things that mattered, that God is good and God was at work in the world.

Furthermore Jesus instructed the seventy that if they were not welcomed they were not to make judgments about that home or those people -- that was the Lord's business, not theirs. Whether they were kindly received or turned away, the disciples were to offer the same message: the kingdom of God has come near.

It was about as simple as it could be; we're struck by that today. Jesus' instructions are easy to remember and hard to forget. To be a missionary requires very little -- we don't need to take a single thing with us! Couldn't be simpler; no packing lists, no carry-ons, no last-minute purchases. At the same time, to be a missionary for Jesus requires a great deal: we get out of our comfort zone and depend on the hospitality of other people. Free of encumbrances, we are entirely ourselves, expressing personal truth: why faith matters, why God matters, how God's realm is the world we need to be living in.

The calling of Christians is to be personal. On the one hand, we tend to disqualify ourselves: we're not missionaries, we don't go to far-off places with religious tracts in hand, evangelistic sermons memorized, and proven programs to establish new churches and health care clinics and schools. We have an image in of what missionaries are and we don't see ourselves fitting that image. The word "mission" doesn't apply to us.

Or does it? The average Protestant congregation worshipping together on Sunday morning in America today is sixty people -- I wonder if the fact that Jesus called seventy people to go out in his name didn't suggest that we should set aside preconceived ideas about missionaries, that we are all invited in. The biblical word means simply those who are sent. It's not just about people with special qualifications; being missionaries in Jesus' name is more inclusive than exclusive. Jesus' instructions on what to take with us when we go out into the world are disconcerting because he tells us to leave extraneous things behind.

Which is most challenging! It's a very different way of thinking about who we are and how we live, how we go about our everyday lives. Personally, I'm always thinking about the things I need to have with me when I leave my house -- my wallet, my keys, my cell phone, letters to mail, the grocery list, the dry cleaning. But what Christ is saying is important: when you leave the house, he tells us, take your self with you. Take your smile with you. Take your blessing with you,
take your peace with you, take your openness to others with you, take your readiness to receive from others with you, take your faith in the God of grace with you.

When we leave home we are focused on what we need to do. Jesus says, when you leave home, be focused on what you need to be. Because being in relationship with others, especially with strangers, is at the heart of being Christian. Being free of the stuff that gets in the way -- our luggage, our baggage. It's the way the Lord comes to us: hands open, arms open, eyes open, heart open. When we visualize Jesus we don't see him carrying anything; his eyes are ready to take in the person or the crowd that is before him at the moment. What a wonderful freedom!

Jesus would limit what we carry around with us so that we are more ready to be ourselves, to be human, to be ready to listen without being in a hurry to be somewhere else. He would have us be ready to talk about important things,  sharing the hope we have, the joy of living in peace, the peace that passes human understanding.

I had an experience on my vacation, something that occurred to me that I wanted to share with you. Something that reinforced the difference that church makes. Kati and I spent a good part of our time away hiking, mostly in Yosemite; it's something we love to do. We had spectacular weather -- cloudless skies every day, ideal temperatures for hiking, just warm enough and just cool enough.
We carried what we needed: Jesus says no backpacks, but in the Sierra you really do need to bring along things like bottled water and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And a light-weight jacket, and a camera, and some sunscreen, and some trail mix (the kind with M&Ms).

We did see magnificent sights: rivers and waterfalls, wildflowers, birds and animals, expanses of mountains capped with snow. One trail took us from Tuolumne Meadows out to North Dome, a huge mass of bare granite directly across Yosemite Valley from Half Dome. Up close -- or what seemed like up close, half Dome was probably still a mile or two away -- it was hard to believe how perfect and powerful a monolith of rock can be. We said to each other, My Goodness, Oh my, Wow, This is incredible, I can't believe this, and so on. Standing there across from Half Dome, we sounded like an awe-struck 12 year-olds. We both felt a sense of privilege to be able to view God's magnificent creation in this special way.

Then came Sunday. On vacation, you know, even ministers have to decide about going to church. Like you, when you're on vacation, it's tempting not to. After all, no doubt, the church is unfamiliar, the people are unfamiliar, the pastor is unfamiliar, the hymns will probably be unfamiliar -- lots of reasons to not make the effort, to choose instead to stay home. We rationalize: Well, I'm always in church; one Sunday away isn't going to matter.

By this time Kati and I were in Truckee, north of Lake Tahoe, and there was a United Methodist church quite nearby, so the excuses seemed weak. And it wasn't as though we weren't interested; our friends had spoken warmly of this church, and we felt drawn to it. The people were outgoing and genuine, the church seemed to smile. About fifteen minutes into the service the pastor offered a prayer, and he spoke to an issue that was weighing on me. I couldn't believe it, how those few sentences, those exact words, found me and filled me up. God was near! The sermon was thoughtful and sincere; we went forward with the congregation to receive communion and felt privileged to be part of the community.

Following the service, I had two thoughts. First, I was so glad we'd gone, that staying home hadn't won out over a deeper desire to worship. I was personally reminded that worship can be a life-changing hour; something can be said or felt or heard that is such a profound blessing. For me, the hour on Sunday was transforming; it changed everything. You've had the experience; you've been taken by surprise in this way by grace, by the Spirit.

My other thought had to do with the experience of being in a community of people, even strangers, gathered for worship, as compared to being "out in nature." After all, Kati and I had been out in nature a lot that week, walking up and down in God's creation. I thought of the number of times I'd heard people remark that for them God is in nature, that they don't need church, that the outdoors is their sanctuary -- and I thought to myself: it's not the same! Yes, we can feel close to God when we're in forests and on mountains and beside the ocean; we feel, often intensely, a sense of awe and gratitude, refreshment and joy. But there is no substitute for church, for being in worship, hearing the promises of God, singing God's praises, being drawn into the healing of prayer, being addressed graciously with well-chosen words, passing the peace of Christ with people we have never met before but with whom we have a powerful connection. On Sunday in worship we sense not only God's mystery but also God's kindness -- that God is personal! That God is not distant but near.

Actually Sunday morning is a day when Jesus' instructions are easy to follow. We don't need to bring anything with us to church but ourselves. No baggage, just come as we are. We leave other things at home, we bring with us what is most important: our needs and our hopes, our doubts as well as our faith. We bring with us that part of our selves that is thankful, the candle flame of gratitude flickering in our souls. We bring to worship unspoken words, even our desire to let God transform us and bless us again.

We can hardly believe that God provides us with blessing, with joy again and again. We come and God is ready for us; we come to church and our friends are ready for us.

And we are ready to respond. Leaving worship, we're missionaries. We are among the seventy whom Jesus commissions and sends out. We don't take other things with us, our willingness to share ourselves and our peace are enough.

The world, our neighbors, are waiting. In Jesus Christ, the kingdom of God has come near.