Our Posture: Sent As Sheep Among Wolves

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Lord, I thank You again for Your presence. We have sung of Your faithfulness, that You are a firm foundation. We have sung that You are our living hope. God, these are powerful words. Would You move them from words and ideas to firm convictions that are deep, settled, rooted deep in our souls, and translated into our lives, so that we would be a people who reflect the light of You, Jesus.

I pray that You would help us. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Amen.

Here we are in this passage that we have been going through, Matthew 10. Jesus sends the Twelve. I’ll just read the whole thing—it won’t hurt us.

These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel. As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give. Do not get any gold or silver or copper to take with you in your belts—no bag for the journey or extra shirt or sandals or a staff, for the worker is worth his keep. Whatever town or village you enter, search there for some worthy person and stay at their house until you leave. As you enter the home, give it your greeting. If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it. If it is not, let your peace return to you.”

I want to declare some really good news.

As we talk about evangelism, we talk about sharing your faith—something some of us have a hard time doing. We are free. You are free from the pressure to force the kingdom of God anywhere. God’s gracious, loving presence is already at work everywhere.

Take the pressure off. Take the weight off your shoulders.

God is already at work everywhere.

I’ve seen this happen over and over again. I remember sitting in an RV parked in the backyard of a house behind our church. Paul Doan lived in this RV, a guy who came to our church every once in a while.

I was sitting in his RV, which was his home. He’s an older man, a former dart champion. He showed me an Albuquerque Journal article from the ’80s. He had also been affiliated with a motorcycle gang in his past and had the scars to prove it. He had a scar that reached three-quarters of the way around his entire neck.

This is the story he was sharing with me in his RV as he counted change that he had collected from the vacuum cleaners at the car wash he serviced as a part-time job.

We were sitting at his table, and he was sharing the story of when he was in a knife fight and died on the operating table. I don’t want to get too graphic, but because of that big scar, he had almost died.

He said, “God saved my life. I would not be here if God had not saved my life that day.”

Then there was a knock at the RV door.

Paul said, “Come in.”

Another older gentleman walked in. He was the owner of the property where Paul’s RV was parked. He asked Paul for a cigarette. Paul gave it to him. He lit up, heard Paul sharing the story, and said, “You know, Paul, I would not be here except for the grace of God who saved me.”

Then he began telling his own story.

In his forties, he had been in a horrific car accident. The Jaws of Life had to rescue him. Many bones were broken, but he survived.

He said, “I wouldn’t be here but for the grace of God.”

I’m just sitting in this RV, listening as cigarette smoke fills the room. I’m listening to these two older men declare that the kingdom of God had been in their midst—that God had been at work in their lives.

And I’ve got to say, God’s been at work in your life.

I am amazed.

God has saved you.

I asked, “How do you see God at work in your life now? Today?”

And we chatted. We talked.

We are free from the pressure of bringing the kingdom of God anywhere. God’s gracious, loving presence is already at work everywhere.

The harvest is plentiful.

God is already ahead of us. We don’t have to create it. We don’t have to grow the field. We just have to come by, see how God is at work, and name it.

Look—some things are growing here. Some things are growing here. Good news is growing here.

We’ve been looking at Jesus’ instructions to His disciples. How do we bear witness to the kingdom of God?

A couple of weeks ago, in Matthew 9, Jesus sees humanity harassed, hurting, and helpless, and He’s moved with compassion. He says, “The harvest is plentiful. Pray to the Lord of the harvest”—the One doing this work—that laborers would be sent.

Then He instructs His disciples: “Let’s go. Let’s go to this harvest.”

Last week, He talked about the message. What are we going to say? What are we going to embody? What is the news that we will announce?

It’s the kingdom of God.

Last week we talked about how the kingdom of God is the promises of God made to Israel and fulfilled in Jesus—in His whole story: His life, death, resurrection, ascension, and return.

In Jesus’ life, all God’s promises to Israel are fulfilled and expanded to everyone, everywhere. Israel becomes this doorway of blessing to all people and all nations.

So we have a King who leads us into abundant life—Someone who gives direction and purpose to our lives in the way of love. We have a family of unconditional belonging, a kingdom kinship. We have a return from exile, forgiveness for the sins we have committed, for the ways we have contributed to the suffering of the world, and for the ways we’ve distorted love.

We also receive healing—for the wounds we have received from those who have sinned against us and failed to love us.

A return from exile—from the wasteland that sin, death, and Satan churn up. We are welcomed home from exile into the presence of a living hope, a living, loving Savior.

The presence of God is at work in our hearts—healing, restoring, reconciling. The presence of God, as William said, is at work in us, at work between us, and at work through us.

This is the gospel. This is the good news: the kingdom of God.

Today I want to talk about our posture.

How do we carry the good news? Because it matters how we carry it.

Some of us have experienced really painful interactions with Christians. They’ve tried to share good news with us, and it’s felt like bad news. People have felt belittled, overrun, pressured, controlled, manipulated. Maybe we’ve done that to people as well.

So we shrink back from proclaiming the kingdom ourselves.

One reason we shrink back from obeying Jesus’ call to go and declare this good news is because the posture of the church—the posture of followers of Jesus—has been historically pretty problematic for about 1,700 years.

We have carried this really good news in really bad ways, in ways that have been bad news for a lot of people.

I’m going to root it all the way back to Constantine.

Anyone heard of Constantine, the Roman emperor?

Around A.D. 300, he was about to go into battle the next day as a Roman general against another Roman general, both vying for power.

That night he had a vision. He saw the sign of the cross blazoned in the sky, and here’s what he believed Jesus said to him:

“In hoc signo vinces.”

This is the only time I’ll use my classics degree. It’s Latin:

“In this sign you will conquer.”

He went to battle, and he won.

“God has given me the victory.”

Then he declared the whole Roman Empire Christian. They painted crosses on their shields and proceeded to conquer the world in the sign of the cross, marrying imperialism, conquest, violence, and war with the good news of Jesus.

The power of empire began to co-opt the power of God’s kingdom.

The problem is, the power of God’s kingdom is not like the power of the world.

From the Roman Empire onward, we’ve largely inherited a coercive, controlling, superior posture in evangelism.

Now, there have been exceptions throughout church history. The monastic movement—pretty good stuff. Saint Francis of Assisi. Saint Patrick. They challenged this entanglement of empire and gospel.

But in general, the ways of evangelism we’ve inherited have unconsciously—and sometimes consciously—assumed a posture of superiority, control, and conversion by manipulation.

This has made good news not so good.

Because posture matters.

How we carry the message matters.

As one podcaster I heard earlier this week said:

“Evangelism, to many of us, sounds like pressure—like scripts, like arguments to win, like certainty performed at really high volume. If we get louder and more certain, we win.”

But this is the complete opposite of the way Jesus engages the world.

It’s the complete opposite of the way Jesus was present.

When we look at Jesus, we don’t see someone forcing conclusions or demanding instant agreement.

We see Someone inviting.

We see Someone asking questions.

We see Someone telling stories.

We see Someone eating with outsiders and honestly welcoming doubt and conversation.

He calls people not to believe in something, but to follow Someone.

Jesus was present with people and for people—never controlling, never coercive, never manipulative.

He came vulnerable.

Scripture says He did not have a place to lay His head.

He relied on the support of women.

He was mostly—I can’t think of an occasion, though maybe you can—but He was mostly, if not always, a guest.

Rarely was He the host.

He hosted tables, but not homes. He didn’t have one.

He was a guest in people’s homes, completely dependent on the hospitality of others—the very people He came to save.

He was dependent on them.

Vulnerable.

All of His miracles, it seems to me, flowed out of conversations.

There was a conversation, then the need emerged, and then came the response.

Often Jesus would ask, “What do you want Me to do for you?”

The blind man cries out, “Son of David! Son of David! Heal me!”

It seems obvious.

But Jesus asks, “What can I do for you?”

The man says, “It would be nice if I could see.”

Jesus asks because He doesn’t impose.

He doesn’t coerce.

He doesn’t manipulate.

He responds to the person, to the story, and to the place where He finds them.

So Jesus teaches His disciples to carry the message of the kingdom the same way—with a posture of humility, vulnerability, dependence, curiosity, and dignity.

Notice in this passage—and also in Luke 10, the parallel passage—that Jesus frees the disciples from any notion that they are the ones bringing the kingdom of God.

They don’t bring it with their resources because they’re not supposed to bring any.

They don’t bring it with their money.

They don’t even have an extra cloak.

They go vulnerable.

The posture is one of humble, vulnerable dependence on the people they are going to.

They go as people in need.

Did you notice that?

Jesus says, “Go into a town,” and you’ve got nothing. Then He says, “Stay with somebody.”

The first act of hospitality—the first act of good news—is not from the disciples.

It’s from the people to whom they go.

Jesus sends them vulnerable, dependent, needing shelter.

They need it.

They don’t have any food.

They don’t have money to buy food.

They need the people they are going to.

Let them feed you.

Be present in their midst.

Presence.

William mentioned it before.

Presence.

If you come away with nothing else, I hope you come away with this:

Presence precedes proclamation.

Presence comes before proclamation.

The presence of God goes ahead of our proclamation.

The presence of God is always ahead of us, already at work.

The harvest is plentiful.

The laborers are few.

Go into the harvest.

But God is already at work.

Our presence in a place ought to precede our proclamation of the goodness and mercy of God.

Before we proclaim, we become present to the place and to the people.

We enter a place humble and dependent.

Jesus says we stay in a home as a guest—listening, learning, paying attention, looking for how God is already at work in that place.

How is the harvest ripe here?

How is the kingdom already springing up?

When we see it, we name it.

There’s the witness.

We bear witness to what God is already doing in people’s lives.

Then we cooperate with it.

Heal the sick.

Cast out demons.

Raise the dead.

And proclaim, “The kingdom has come near.”

Look at what God is doing.

Look at what He’s doing.

Jesus says in Matthew 10:16, right after the verses we read:

“I am sending you out like sheep among wolves.”

To this harassed, hurting, and helpless crowd—people who are like sheep without a shepherd—Jesus says, “I’m sending you as sheep.”

There are three characters in Jesus’ metaphor:

• Wolves.
• Sheep.
• A shepherd.

The wolves are the bad actors. The wolves are the systems and the people who prey on the weak. They’re the ones harassing and hurting the sheep.

Then there’s the Shepherd.

The Good Shepherd who leads us in paths of righteousness, who leads us into green pastures and beside still waters, who anoints our heads with oil, who prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies, who is with us now and always. His goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives.

I want you to notice something.

How many shepherds are there?

One.

One Shepherd.

And that Shepherd is not us.

That Shepherd is not you.

I think one of the posture problems we have as Christians in the West is that we often go into contexts as shepherds when Jesus calls us to go as sheep.

We’ve got the answers.

We know what people need.

We can provide what they need.

We’ve got the resources.

We come not empty-pocketed and empty-handed—we come full of everything people need.

We know what they need.

We know what we’re communicating.

We know what they need to believe.

We go in as shepherds.

We have the answers.

We know it.

But Jesus is sending us as sheep.

It changes everything.

The posture of a sheep acknowledges:

“I am among the harassed, hurting, and helpless.”

And I go into the midst of harassed, hurting, and helpless people.

The only difference between me—a harassed, hurting, helpless sheep—and the people I’m going to is that they aren’t yet able to see their Shepherd.

I can see Him because I’ve met my Shepherd.

I’ve met the Shepherd who provides, guides, and protects; who has brought me out of exile and is healing me and restoring me.

So I go to other hurting, harassed, helpless sheep and say:

“I’m a hurting, harassed, helpless sheep too. Come with me. Let’s go to the Shepherd who can help us, who can guide us, who will give us direction and purpose, who will save us from the cliff we’re all heading toward.”

Come on.

As someone once said, we’re all beggars.

The only difference for someone who’s met Jesus is that we’re beggars pointing other beggars to where we found bread.

We have a Shepherd.

We’ve met Him.

And this changes everything.

I’ve realized over ten years of being in the International District and learning this that this shepherd mentality is really hard to shake.

It’s hard for us as American, Western Christians to shake it—especially being the provider.

Our church provides a lot of resources for folks, and subtly, destructively, it creeps in until I’m the shepherd.

A power dynamic emerges.

I remember a woman who had a young son.

Her car broke down in front of her house, and they were living in that car.

I was in kind of a fatigued season of life—it happens every couple of weeks.

She was friends with one of our neighbors, and there were people coming and going. Traffic. Her little kid crying. Trash was beginning to accumulate.

And I knew what this woman needed.

She needed better friends.

Better habits.

A better job.

She needed to get her car fixed.

She needed to move.

That’s all I could see.

I was aggravated.

Annoyed.

Judgmental.

After a few negative interactions with her over several days, I called the cops on her.

She left.

Or rather, her car got towed and impounded, and she found someplace else to go.

But not before leaving a note on my front door.

A pretty long note.

A really angry, convicting note.

As I read it, the Holy Spirit deeply convicted me.

I realized I did not see this woman the way Jesus did—with compassion.

I did not see her as a fellow hurting, harassed, helpless sheep.

I saw her as someone whose story I already knew.

Someone I had the answers for.

Someone I needed out.

I did not seek to listen.

I did not seek to hear her story.

I did not seek to know her.

I did not pay attention to how God was already at work in her life.

I missed the opportunity to be present.

To ask God,

“How are You at work here?”

Or to ask her,

“What’s happening?”

How is God’s kingdom breaking in?

How can I cooperate with what You’re doing in this woman’s life?

How can I point to what You’re already doing and join You in it?

We’re free from the pressure of bringing the kingdom anywhere because God’s presence is already at work everywhere.

We have to have the posture of a sheep in order to see it.

Here are a couple of shifts I think need to happen.

There’s a lot more that could be said about all of this, but if we took Jesus’ words seriously about going into a town dependent, without anything—if we thought about missions in ways not infected by colonialism, imperialism, paternalism, and all the other “-isms”—there would be a couple of shifts.

First, a shift from certainty to curiosity.

Often our posture as the church is one of certainty.

We’re certain about the message we proclaim.

We’re certain about what people need.

But here’s the thing:

No two people are the same.

No two places are the same.

So it requires presence in a place and presence with a person before we understand exactly what we are proclaiming and exactly what they need to hear.

Where does the good news of the kingdom intersect their life?

Instead, we often go in with a cookie-cutter gospel.

We share it as though it’s a one-size-fits-all message that can fit on a napkin.

We’re nervous, so we just blurt out this generalized gospel.

God works through it by His grace.

But what if, instead of approaching people with preconceived certainty about what they need to hear, we shifted to curiosity?

Careful, caring listening.

Asking people to share their story.

Actually, you usually don’t even have to ask.

If you listen…

If you wait…

If you’re present…

People will tell you their story.

Pay attention.

What excites them?

What are their fears?

What do they dream of?

What are the pains of their past?

What are they excited about in the future?

Where do they experience doubt?

Where are they struggling?

What’s working?

We listen.

We’re curious.

We ask questions.

We’re not bringing the kingdom.

We’re paying attention to where it’s already showing up.

We’re playing I Spy.

“I spy the kingdom.”

And when we see it, we name it.

“I see it. Do you see it? I hear how God has been at work in your life. I hear how God is at work right now. Do you see it?”

We’re looking for what’s already present.

The second shift is from providing to depending.

We like to be providers.

It’s hard to be dependent.

But this is a shift from asking, “What can I give?” or “What can I do for you?” to asking, “What is God already doing, and how can I be served?”

Notice again—I’ll emphasize this once more—the disciples arrive empty-handed.

They don’t have money.

They don’t even have a change of clothes.

This immediately puts them in a posture of dependence rather than provision.

The first act of good news isn’t performed by them.

It’s performed by the people they’re sent to.

They receive a meal.

This creates a dynamic of interdependence from the very beginning.

It lays the foundation for what the kingdom of God is meant to be: an interdependent community of shared life, where we serve one another and bear one another’s burdens.

When we go with a posture of dependence, we honor the people we’re going to.

We communicate:

“You matter.”

“You have something I need.”

“I am a helpless, hurting, harassed sheep, and I need you just as you need what I bring.”

Once we’ve received that hospitality, once we’ve been present—listening, learning, and paying attention to where God is already at work—then we can cooperate with what God is doing.

We can name what’s happening.

People are healed.

People are restored.

The dead are raised.

And we say,

“The kingdom of God is near.”

I think in our church—New Creation—we’ve sometimes led with resources.

We’ve taken the posture of providers.

We’ve tried to do this humbly.

We’ve tried to do it respectfully.

Without expectation.

We’ve communicated very clearly, “We don’t expect anything in return. You can come just as you are.”

Even as we share a meal together every week—everyone brings food—sometimes people can’t bring food.

Those who can’t bring food often feel like they’re always on the receiving end.

It unintentionally creates a division.

It creates a sense of difference.

We’re in the power position as providers, and over time people begin to feel increasingly uncomfortable.

Eventually they just begin to fade away and stop showing up.

So I’m curious what might happen if we shifted from leading with provision to becoming dependent.

Really, this comes from the posture of recognizing,

“I’m a sheep, just like you’re a sheep.”

And other sheep have things this sheep needs.

What if we intentionally began receiving from our neighbors?

What if we became creative in receiving the good gifts they have to offer?

Then we would begin creating a culture of interdependence.

Of mutuality.

Of honor.

Right from the beginning.

I think this is what Jesus is setting up here.

So here’s the question:

How is your posture in sharing the good news of the kingdom?

Which shift is most needed in your life and relationships right now?

Is it a shift from certainty to curiosity?

Or from providing to depending?

Let me ask you this:

Are you willing to learn from God about God through an atheist?

Might they have something to teach us?

Are you willing to learn from a poor person about economics?

They might have something to offer.

Are you willing to learn from a Muslim about hospitality…

…about generosity…

…about community?

Are you willing to learn from a child about wonder…

…acceptance…

…honesty…

…and friendship?

This is the posture Jesus invites us into.

And the pressure is off.

The pressure really is off because God is already present and already at work everywhere.

We don’t have to force the kingdom anywhere.

We’re simply naming how we see the love of God already present and already at work.

And we ask,

“Do you see it too?”

We’ll talk more about this.

There’s much more to say.

But for just a moment, I invite you to be still.

Ask yourself that question.

Ask the Holy Spirit:

“What is my posture?”

“What are You saying to me right now as we talk about the good news of Jesus and the world that desperately needs it?”

We are a harassed, hurting, and helpless people.

Humanity is harassed, hurting, and helpless.

And the good news of the kingdom of God is really, really good news.

So we get to share it.

It can change the world.

People finding Jesus as their King—a loving Leader who leads them into liberation, health, and healing…

…who provides a family…

…a kinship that changes everything…

…that brings belonging and support…

…that brings people out of exile…

…and the very presence of God, available and at work, healing, convicting, guiding.

Isn’t this what the world needs?

This is what the world needs.

So we get to proclaim and be present as we follow Jesus into the places where He already is.

I want to lead us in a confession.

We’ll just take a moment.

You can read it.

Let’s ask God.

I’ll give you a couple of minutes.

God, we want You to keep speaking.

We want to be curious about what You’re leading us into.

About what You’re revealing concerning our posture.

God, we thank You that You are enough.

That Your presence is really what changes lives.

Your presence.

I even heard it in the testimonies of Ben and William.

You were present and at work in their lives.

And people joined what You were doing.

And new life was born.

God, we want to be free.

We want to receive the gift of no pressure.

We want to step into the calling of having eyes to see, ears to hear, and courage to proclaim where we see You at work.

Help us, God.

Would you stand?

Let’s say this prayer together, and then we’ll ask God for strength.

Let’s say it together:

Gracious God,

We confess we have too often gone as shepherds instead of sheep.

We have carried certainty instead of curiosity,
control instead of dependence.

We have wanted to be the answer instead of bearing witness to Yours.

Create in us a clean heart, O God.

Renew a right spirit within us,
and give us eyes to see where You are already at work.

Give us the freedom to go with empty hands.

Let Your kingdom come, not by our force,
but by Your presence.

Let’s declare this together:

We are free from the pressure to force the kingdom anywhere. God’s gracious, loving presence is already at work everywhere.

Amen.