An image of me pursuing two of my missions—husband and dog companion—in 2005.
What is your mission?
What exactly are you planning to do when you leave this building, or when you log off this zoom call, and begin your new week?
What work or project will you take up in the coming days?
What are you preparing to do that is quintessentially you?
We all have a purpose. We all have something to do, or something to be, that matters. Most—probably all—of us have many missions at once, or different missions depending on the time of our lives, or the experiences we’ve had. I once thought my mission was church music, and so I became an organist and choir director. I wasn’t wrong, exactly, but my mission shifted. Then I thought my mission was couple and family therapy. Again, not wrong, but it shifted again. Then came deacon, and finally priest. But maybe my actual mission is being a good brother. Or maybe I have multiple missions, including priest, brother, friend, husband, companion of dogs. In recent days I’ve thought my newest mission is to save at least one life that is threatened by the destructive decisions of the Supreme Court. But some missions seem less noble, and yet prove their worth over time: I have a mission to keep pursuing the sport of long-distance running, not just because exercise helps me feel good, but because it has inspired two of my friends to pursue their own dreams for physical health, and the three of us keep encouraging each other. I think that makes it a mission.
Are you a parent or a grandparent? A sibling or a spouse? Maybe you find your mission in your work life, or maybe you needed to retire to really learn what your most important task is. You might have a mission here at Grace Church, serving on the vestry or another ministry. Maybe you’re politically active, or you are turning your property into a lush garden. Or you’re an artist, a musician, a poet.
What I don’t want, for me, for you, for Grace Church, for anyone, is to just be in maintenance mode. We can’t merely stay alive and keep ourselves comfortable. That’s not what the world needs, and it’s not what we need. We all need at least one mission. Even in our last days on earth, we can do one final mission: we can impart wisdom to those who are keeping vigil with us as we prepare to die.
Today we watch as Jesus sends seventy of his followers out on a mission, which is exciting for them, and finally thrilling, as they find that they are good at it! They can preach the Word, and their power grows. “Even the demons submit to us!” they say. Demons: not just spiritual beasts from the ancient world, a pre-scientific way to make sense of mental illness or other hard-to-explain phenomena. No, we have demons, too. We can relate to the ancient belief in demons. There are demons that tell us we aren’t good enough. There are demons that tell us we don’t need each other, or that some people are enemies. There are demons that try to pull us down into hopelessness, or worse, into nihilistic selfishness. There are demons that bedevil our politicians (and our courts!) with petty resentments and a desire to win for the sake of winning. There are demons that distract and disillusion us, making us complacent, indifferent to the widespread suffering that plagues our world today. We know about demons. And so we can learn from the seventy missioners, who were so good at their mission that the demons “submitted to them.”
Are we that good at our missions? If not, Jesus shows us how to do better. Here’s his advice.
Jesus says, “Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals. Greet no one on the road.” We can interpret this to mean: keep it simple; stay focused; don’t be distracted from what’s most important to your mission.
And when we’re on our mission, Jesus wants us to say things like, “Peace to this house!” Our missions, then, are missions of peace. We can and should fight for things! But our goal is God’s peace, which is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of justice.
Then Jesus says, “Do not move about from house to house.” He encourages stability. Don’t flit about trying to find the ideal situation, the perfect mission, the perfect church or spouse or grandchild or employer or political candidate—there are no such perfect persons or things. God is with you in this church, this relationship, this vocation, with all of their flaws, and all of your flaws.
And then Jesus assures his missioners—and also us—that we will meet resistance. Whole towns will push back on our mission and reject us. Sometimes people won’t like us. Sometimes people won’t agree with us. Sometimes we’ll really struggle. Jesus coaches us to wipe the dust of those towns off our feet, but “wiping the dust off our feet” isn’t meant to be a harsh rejection of the people who are resisting us. It’s better understood this way: they’re resisting us, but we’re not going to let that stick to us. We’re not going to let it keep us stuck. We’re going to keep holding on to ourselves, and stay on our mission. And for all we know, their resistance makes sense and we have something to learn by reflecting on it!
Here’s an example. If your mission is to be the parent of a teenager, you will meet with resistance quite often. That’s because teenagers are in a developmental phase where they have to resist: they are carving out their own identity, and they need to kick against control as a healthy part of their maturation. Your job is to keep to your mission: you’re a parent of a future adult who needs you to be empathetic but also firm, own up to your own mistakes, and hang in there with them. Keep to your mission.
Here at Grace Church, we have many missions up and running, and some resistance too. Sometimes people evaluate churches on a binary: either a church is in “maintenance mode” or “mission mode.” That’s not such a bad way to think, even though it’s not entirely accurate. Here at Grace, our overall mission was probably a lot clearer several years ago, before several transitions, and before the world around us began to change so quickly. If you said to me, “I think Grace is in maintenance mode, not mission mode,” I think I would understand what you meant. But we do have many missions going on here. In fact, we have more than we can count. There’s the mission of writing a parish profile, which will be followed by the mission of the rector search committee, which will be followed by the mission of incorporating the new rector. But there are so many other missions here! We are making music, serving those in need, studying and learning, praying for our friends, building connections in our Home Groups, providing pastoral care, rebuilding our creation-care ministry, teaching our children, learning from our children, and more. Each person in this room and on this zoom call has at least one mission at Grace Church, even if that mission is simply to say your prayers here, with faith and with love.
When the seventy missioners return to Jesus, he rejoices with them, and he says, “I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you.” Snakes and scorpions: this image fits our times. Our nation is celebrating its 246th birthday tomorrow, and we are not in good shape. Political warfare is wildly problematic, and democracy itself is threatened. The world is roiling in conflict, and the climate crisis is raging. Yet Jesus tells us that when we are on our mission, nothing will hurt us.
Note that he says this to people who mostly went on to be martyred! And Jesus himself was crucified. So “nothing will hurt you” is not literally true. I am spending my life on my missions, and at some point my life will be spent. My heart gets hurt quite often on my missions, and I can easily imagine getting physically shot (I live and work in the United States, after all.) I am—just like you—physically and emotionally vulnerable. And yet, the Crucified One is with us. We find Jesus when we come together, and when we break the bread. And so, even though there are lots of ways we can—and will—get hurt, nothing will hurt us in our essence, in our souls, because we are marked as Christ’s own forever. He defeated death by submitting to it, offering everything—even his life—in self-giving love. And so we go forth from here to do the same, to give everything away on our missions, held close by the risen Jesus, for the life of the world.
Don’t be frightened by your mission. You are vulnerable! But God is with you. You will tread on snakes and scorpions, and nothing will hurt you.
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Preached on the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Year C), July 3, 2022, at Grace Episcopal Church, Bainbridge Island, Washington.
2 Kings 5:1-14
Psalm 30
Galatians 6:1-16
Luke 10:1-11, 16-20