Jesus is doing great stuff. He’s traveling around teaching, and curing, and proclaiming the "good news of the kingdom." But he looks out at his world and it looks a lot like our world. He sees a lot of people who don’t know the Good News of the kingdom; who spend their lives trying to pretend that they are not really so bad, so God should love them. They can’t imagine that the Christ would come (and even die) for the ungodly. Jesus sees lots of people who put their trust in money and position and power and violence. They can’t imagine how much God loves them just as they are, warts and all. They can’t imagine how much God is willing to sacrifice to love them. Jesus looks out and sees a world a lot like ours, full of people who are lost, who are like "sheep without a shepherd."

And he comes to a conclusion that should make us pause. He comes to a conclusion that is exciting, and a little frightening. The Son of God comes to the conclusion — that he needs help. You see, these peculiar, troublesome Human Beings have to be reached one at a time, face-to-face, person-to-person, and Jesus is only one person, one face, and he needs help. So he commissions the twelve.

"Start with Israel," he says. "Go tell them the good news that the kingdom has come near. Cure, raise, cleanse, cast out. Travel light; don’t take money or bags or extra clothes. Don’t waste your time in a place where you are not received. Shake the dust off your feet and move on."

These are powerful (and a little frightening) instructions. They are all about proclamation and trust and urgency. Proclaim the Good News; trust in God and not material things; and don’t get bogged down. You have a mission — trust God, travel light, and travel fast.

Well, you know, that’s hard. I put my trust in God, and not material things. I do it lots of times. And then I take it back. I get scared, and I take it back. It’s fine in theory, but when I get scared, when something taps into my insecurities, I want the security of material things (even though I know material things don’t offer real security).

My friend Rick Callaway, our Canon to the Ordinary (the Bishop’s "right hand man"), and his wife, Wynn, recently bought a recreational vehicle. They’ve had it for a while now, and I asked Rick what it’s like to travel in one of those things (I never have). He said he really liked it, but what has amazed him is what he’s seen in the RV parks. "It’s amazing what people bring in those things," he said. "Every amenity you can think of and more. Satellite TV’s, huge grills, smokers, motorcycles, All Terrain Vehicles, small cars, large screen TV’s, patio furniture —it’s amazing," he said. It seems to be a metaphor for the human condition: we start off wanting to travel light, and we end up trying to bring all our stuff, all our baggage with us.

But Jesus told the twelve then, and he tells us now, that he needs our help. "Focus, proclaim, travel light, be urgent." How does that apply to us at St. John’s?

Well, first, I think it means that we can never be about survival or maintenance. We have to always be about mission. Jesus’ instruction would have been very different if he had wanted them to be about survival. They probably would have been a lot more like the Boy Scout Manual: "Be prepared. Go slowly. Plan everything. Take lots of stuff you might need. Be prepared."

I told you when I came four and a half years ago that I would not be in a survival mode here and I would not be about maintenance. Everything has to be about our mission. But I want to tell you, that is too hard a posture for me to maintain alone. Our whole community has to be committed to being all about our mission. Because I can get frightened; I can get frightened when the financial situation looks bad, or when attendance is down, or when people leave the church, or when people who have been "pillars" move away or die (as has happened a lot lately). It can hit all my fears, all my insecurities, and then I feel a strong pull toward being in a survival or maintenance mode. And then I need you to correct me, to remind me. And when you feel that pull toward survival or maintenance, maybe I can correct you. That’s what community is all about; we remind each other to set our bags down, to focus on our mission, to trust God.

You might have noticed that we’ve been doing some sprucing up around here lately. We’ve repainted in the stairs and part of the Education Building, and we’re going to replace the gold carpet (thank God!). The Vestry is also dealing with our need in the not too distant future for a new roof. What I want you to know that whenever we are making decisions like that, we need to ask ourselves, "Are we acting out of a mission mode, or a maintenance or survival mode?" I’m not sure we’ll always get the answer right, and I’m not sure we won’t disagree about the answer, but I’m absolutely sure that we are asking the right question: "Are we acting out of fear, or are we advancing our mission to proclaim the Good News?"

The same question applies to our programs as well. Last week, lots of you signed up to be involved in the Supervised Visitation Program. Frankly, if my primary interest were to increase membership at St. John’s, I’m not sure that would be the way to go (in the short run, at least). If we were acting out of a survival mode or a maintenance mode, we would do something that would serve the people who might be potential members. Y’all all know lots of ways that churches do that.

But we’re not. It’s unlikely that the people we encounter in a Supervised Visitation program are going to join the church. I would love it, but I doubt it. The bottom line is that we’re not doing this because it will benefit us by yielding a return on our investment in the form of new members or a larger budget. We’re doing it because it is what Christ is calling us to do, to walk into the midst of some of the greatest heartache we can imagine and try to bring reconciliation. We’re doing it because our motivation is to be faithful, not prosperous. It is a way that St. John’s has traveled light, and trusted God, and I’m proud of you for it.

So we as a church have to always be asking ourselves whether we are about our mission, or just about maintenance or survival. We as individuals have to ask the same thing. Do you feel a sense of urgency to share the Good News of God in Christ? Do you think of that as your mission? If not, maybe you haven’t heard the Good News — really heard it, not with your ears, but with your heart. What a profound thing St. Paul tells us this morning, that "while we were still weak," before any of us did anything to deserve it, "Christ died for the ungodly," for you and for me. It’s sometimes hard to accept that kind of profound gift. We Americans (who have a market economy in our blood) aren’t really very good at accepting gifts, especially when they mean everything and cost nothing. It makes us feel beholding, obligated, and we don’t like that.

Well, once you have really heard the Good News of God in Christ, you are beholding. The gift is free, absolutely free. God loves you absolutely freely. But once you take that gift, believe and rejoice in God’s love, then you have an obligation. The obligation is to pass it on, to gift again. And the gift you can give is to share the Good News with someone else.

Now, I know that some of you are thinking, "I’m not qualified to do that. You’re the one who’s been to seminary. You’re the one who is trained to talk about theology and doctrines and such. I’m not good at that, and I’m not even good at expressing myself."

I know that some of you think I should be the one talking about God to folks outside the church. But you’re wrong. I’ll do what I can, but I’ve told you before that you have an advantage over me that I will never be able to overcome. You know, College Park is a pretty small town (sort of like Mayberry, really), and people know what I do for a living. People see me in my shorts and sandals in the grocery store — they know I’m a priest. They see me out walking with Charlotte — they know I’m a priest.

Metaphorically speaking, I’ve got my collar on all that time. And that’s a disadvantage, because people expect me to talk about God. A lot of people, especially unchurched people, they think I’m just doing my job, earning my living, when I do that. You have the most wonderful advantage — you can surprise them. And you don’t have to be articulate, and, please, don’t try to talk to them about theology or doctrine. Drop your baggage about whom you should talk to or whether you are well trained enough, or good enough, to do it. Just share with them the gift God has given you, and what it has meant in your life. Gift again. If you’ve heard the message with your heart and not just your ears, you will want to share the gift.

A Presbyterian minister tells the story of a woman from Angola who had moved to America and joined his church. She went to a meeting on evangelism at the Presbytery. In their church, as in ours, there were discussions of plans, and techniques, and statistics, and mission strategies, and training, and printed materials, and media outlets.

After much discussion, they turned to her. They knew that Christianity was growing rapidly in Angola, and they asked her what methodology the church there used. She was embarrassed. "Well, we don’t have media outlets, and we don’t give pamphlets to people," she said. "We don’t have any! We just send one or two Christian families to live in a village. And when people see what Christians are like, they want to be Christians themselves."

I find that story convicting on lots of levels.

We are not on a survival mission. We are not on a maintenance mission. We, we as a church and we as individuals, we are on a mission to proclaim, to gift again. Stay focused. Travel light. Be urgent.

It is important. There are so many who are lost, and Jesus, the Christ, the eternal Son of God, has asked for our help.