The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 9C

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/