Proper 9C 2025

Text: Luke 10:1–20

I. You Were Appointed—Not a Volunteer

“After this the Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them on ahead of him…” (Luke 10:1).

We live in a world that thrives on volunteerism. Serving others is rightly celebrated. We require our high schoolers to complete service hours. Communities organize projects. Neighbors show up for one another. We value those who go above and beyond—not because they have to, but because they choose to. And that is something to be grateful for. But this is also what makes most volunteer service praiseworthy in our culture: it is optional. You give your time when you have the time. You serve when it fits. And that is precisely where the Church must be different. Service in the body of Christ is not something extra. It is not something you do if you are interested or if you have the time. It is part of the life Christ has given you. He did not ask for volunteers. He called disciples.

This idea that serving God is something ‘extra’ that we do— that we serve God when we have the time or the interest— there is a term for that. That idea is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace”—grace that demands nothing, grace without discipleship. “Cheap grace means justification of sin but not of the sinner.” It rejoices in forgiveness because it believes that forgiveness allows you to continue just like you are.  “Because grace alone does everything, everything can stay in its old ways.” 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship, ed. Martin Kuske et al., trans. Barbara Green and Reinhard Krauss, vol. 4, Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2003), 43.

You get upset because the world no longer respects the church. Well, why does the church deserve any respect, when you have taken the the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ— purchased with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death— and you have turned that grace into “a cheap cover-up for [your] sins, for which [you] shows no remorse and from which [you have] even less desire to be set free“ (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship, ed. Martin Kuske et al., trans. Barbara Green and Reinhard Krauss, vol. 4, Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2003), 43.)?

“Cheap grace is the mortal enemy of our church” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship, ed. Martin Kuske et al., trans. Barbara Green and Reinhard Krauss, vol. 4, Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2003), 43.). The grace Christ gives is not cheap. It is costly—not because you must pay for it, but because it calls you to follow. It calls you to come and die to yourself. It demands everything, because it gives everything. And because it is real, it raises you to new life in Him.

Look again at the way Luke tells it. “The Lord appointed seventy-two others.” They were not nominated. They did not volunteer. They were appointed. Chosen. Sent. Not according to their preferences or availability, but according to His Word. That is what makes this so jarring to our old nature. Because costly grace does not leave you in control. It calls you away from the life you are building for yourselves and it places you in the hands of Christ.

This cheap grace is not just a misunderstanding—it is the default position of our sinful nature. It is the lie that tells you Jesus is here to make your life easier, that discipleship is for the spiritually ambitious, and that your life is your own unless you choose otherwise. But grace is not cheap. It cost Jesus everything. And it lays claim to everything in you. The moment you treat His call as optional, you are wasting that grace; you are taking advantage of that grace; you are no longer following Christ—you are following yourself.

II. The Field Is God’s—But You Still Doubt

“The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few…” (Luke 10:2).

That is one of the best-known mission verses in the Bible. And most of the time, when we hear it quoted, it is in the context of church work. “The harvest is plentiful,” so let us pray workers in the harvest field— let us pray for pastors, teachers, missionaries. And rightly so. The Church needs faithful workers in the public ministry. That is not in doubt.

But what often goes unnoticed is what Jesus says next: “Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest.” Did you notice what Jesus said about the harvest? Whose harvest is it? His. The field is not yours. The fruit is not your doing. The results do not belong to you. It is His harvest. His work. His field. And that changes everything.

Because if the field is His, then so is the schedule. So is the success. So is the pace of growth. So are the setbacks. And yet—how often the old Adam in us demands to be in control. We want to measure progress. We want to see results. We want ministry on our terms, in our time. But dying to yourself means letting go of your grip on the timeline. It means trusting that the Lord of the harvest knows His field and knows what He is doing—even when you do not. It means believing that faithfulness matters, even when it is hidden, even when it is slow, even when it is hard. And that faith is not a generic optimism. It is trust grounded in Christ, who has already made you His own.

III. You Are Sent in Weakness—And You Despise It

“Go your way; behold, I am sending you out as lambs in the midst of wolves.” (Luke 10:3)

That is not how you would design a mission strategy. Lambs in the midst of wolves? That is not reassuring. That is not strong. That is not safe. But that is exactly what Jesus says.

It would be one thing if He said, “I am sending you out as warriors.” Or, “I am sending you out with fire from heaven.” But He does not. He sends His people in weakness. Vulnerable. Exposed. Without purse, bag, or sandals.

And that is more than a travel instruction. That is a deliberate stripping away of visible support. He sends them without provisions, without preparation, without funding—because they are to learn that the success of their mission will not come from what they bring, but from the One who sends them.

How often does the Church feel this same tension? We dream of doing more—reaching more, serving more, growing more. But we are so often brought up short by the numbers: the budget is tight, the people are tired, the resources feel thin. And yet, that is exactly how Jesus sends. Not with abundance in hand, but with trust in His provision.

And that’s what makes serving God so frustrating at times—even frightening, at times. If we have the resources in hand, we do not have to trust. If we know how the project will be funded, or how the work will get done, or where the support will come from, then we can move forward with confidence—not in God, but in ourselves. That feels safer. More practical. More certain. But Jesus sends us without guarantees. He sends us in weakness, so that our strength cannot become a substitute for faith.

If trusting in God’s timing and trusting in His ability to produce a harvest does not absolutely crucify your sinful nature, then this probably will. You are not sent in power, but in humility. You are not sent with answers for everything, but with the Word that gives life. You are not sent to dominate or persuade, but to proclaim. To serve. To love.

And when that weakness begins to feel like failure, remember: He did not send you as wolves. He did not ask you to be warriors. He asked you to trust. Because He knows what He is doing—even when it looks like you are surrounded by wolves.

IV. You Speak Peace—But Not Everyone Wants It

“Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace be to this house.’ … But whenever you enter a town and they do not receive you…” (Luke 10:5, 10)

The message Jesus gives His followers to proclaim is one of peace. “Peace be to this house.” That is not just a greeting—it is a declaration. It is the peace of God breaking into the world through His Word. It is reconciliation with the Father. It is the announcement that the kingdom of God has come near. And that peace comes not because the house is worthy, not because the people have earned it, but because Jesus is near.

But not everyone wants that kind of peace.

We tend to think that peace is something everyone desires. And they do—but only if it comes on their terms. The world wants peace without repentance; it wants peace without the cross; it wants peace without surrender. And so the peace you are sent to speak will not always be welcomed. Sometimes it will be ignored. Sometimes it will be resisted. Sometimes it will be rejected outright.

St. Paul once wrote that the message of the cross is “a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.” It still is. The peace of Christ is not reasonable. It is not marketable. It is not safe. It is a word that wounds before it heals, that kills before it makes alive. And the world will never be comfortable with that.

That rejection does not mean you failed. It does not mean the message was wrong. It means the message is real. Jesus Himself says, “The one who hears you hears me, and the one who rejects you rejects me.” You are not the first to be rejected for speaking peace. And you will not be the last.

If trusting in God’s timing; trusting in His ability to produce a harvest; if being sent out in weakness and humility does not crucify your sinful nature, then being sent out to proclaim peace that sounds like foolishness to most of those who hear probably will.

But here is what matters: the peace you proclaim is not your own. It is His. You are not sent to invent a message that will be well received. You are sent to speak the Word that brings life. And that Word is never wasted. Even when it is resisted, it does what He sends it to do.

So speak it. Speak peace—to the house that welcomes you and to the one that does not. Speak peace—not as sentiment or silence, but as truth rooted in the crucified Christ. You are not responsible for the results. You are responsible to be faithful.

V. The Kingdom Has Come Near—Through the Cross

“9 Heal the sick in it and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’” (Luke 10:9).

Jesus tells His messengers to proclaim, “The kingdom of God has come near.” But that nearness is not just spiritual. It is not just emotional. The kingdom has come near in the person of Jesus Christ—who is on His way to Jerusalem. On His way to rejection. On His way to the cross.

The kingdom does not come through programs or popularity. It comes through blood. It comes through the cross. The peace that you are sent to speak, the kingdom that you are sent to proclaim—it all comes from His death and resurrection.

And that kingdom has come near to you. In your baptism, you were joined to the crucified and risen Christ. In His body and blood, you are nourished for the journey. In the Word you speak and receive, His reign breaks into the present.

The seventy-two were sent publicly, as evangelists. But their sending points beyond itself. Every believer is called in baptism. Every believer is joined to Christ and carries His Word into daily life. This is not a second-tier discipleship. This is the shape of Christian life: to live in the world as one who belongs to the crucified and risen Lord.

So you are not sent to build the kingdom. You are sent to proclaim that it has already come. And you are sent into the places He has put you: into your home, your community, your work. That is where the kingdom breaks in—not through force or visibility, but through the hidden work of God in the vocations of His people.

If trusting in God’s timing; if trusting in His ability to produce a harvest; if being sent out in weakness and humility; if being sent out to proclaim peace that sounds like foolishness to most of those who hear— if none of that crucifies your sinful nature, then perhaps this will. You go not to achieve something for God, but because God has already done everything for you.

VI. Rejection Is Real—But It Does Not Define You

“16 “The one who hears you hears me, and the one who rejects you rejects me, and the one who rejects me rejects him who sent me”” (Luke 10:16).

When they reject you, Jesus says, they are not ultimately rejecting you. They are rejecting Him. And the One who was rejected has not left you alone. He walks with you into every place He sends you.

This is where the cross meets your life most clearly. To follow Christ is to bear rejection. To be His is to live as one who dies and rises daily. Bonhoeffer once wrote, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” That is not morbid—it is freeing. Because it means that your worth, your identity, your security is not in your reception. It is in your redemption by the blood of Christ. It is in His resurrection.

The sinful nature wants to be liked, wants to be respected, wants to see results. But you are not defined by any of those things. You are defined by Christ. And He has already written your name in heaven.

VII. Rejoice in What God Has Written—Not in What You Accomplish

“19 Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you. 20 Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven”” (Luke 10:19–20).

Have I cheered you up yet? Doubtful. Have I inspired you to strive for more and greater in your Christian life? If so, then I have failed at my job. But consider how this episode ends. 

The seventy-two returned with joy: “Even the demons are subject to us in your name!” And who could blame them? They had seen the power of God firsthand. They had spoken the Word and watched evil retreat. They had stepped into the harvest field with nothing but the promise of Christ, and they had seen it bear fruit. Their joy was real, and Jesus does not deny it. He does not dismiss their joy. 

As one of God’s people, you are called to a life of dying and rising. But in that dying and rising, you are also called to a joy found nowhere else. In your dying and rising, in your waiting for God’s timing, in your going out in weakness and humility, you will get to see the power of God firsthand. You will speak the very Word of God and watch evil retreat. You will step into the harvest field with nothing but the promise of Christ, and you will see it bear fruit.

Jesus does not deny their joy. But He redirects it. “Do not rejoice in this… but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

That is not a scolding. It is an invitation. An invitation to a deeper joy. A joy that is not built on outcomes. A joy that does not depend on how others respond. A joy that holds firm when your words fall on deaf ears, when your efforts seem fruitless, and even when you are rejected.

Yes, you will see fruit. God will give successes. He will show you moments when the seed takes root, when the Word does not return empty, when your labor in the Lord is not in vain. And when those moments come, give thanks. Rejoice.

But do not rest your hope there.

Because there will also be days when the field seems barren, when the people are indifferent, when your strength fails, when you wonder if you are doing any good at all. And in those moments, too, rejoice.

Rejoice that your name is written in heaven. Rejoice that the One who calls you, sends you. Rejoice that your identity does not hang on what you accomplish, but on what Christ has already finished.

You are not sent to prove your value. You are sent because you are already His. The One who died for you lives for you. And your name—your real name—is written not in the records of this world, but in the Lamb’s book of life.

As Bonhoeffer once wrote, “God’s merciful love lives in the midst of its foes.” Jesus “died on the cross alone, abandoned by his disciples. It was not two of his faithful followers who hung beside him, but two murderers.” That is the kind of Savior who sends you. Not one who waits for your success, but one who enters your weakness. One whose mercy embraces the scornful and the fearful alike. Your joy is not found in escaping the wounds of this world, but in knowing that Christ bore them for you—and still sends you into them with His promise intact.

And the message of Grace that you are sent out to bear witness to is not the message of cheap grace. It is the message of real Grace— Costly Grace. “It is costly, because it calls to discipleship; it is grace, because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly, because it costs people their lives; it is grace, because it thereby makes them live. It is costly, because it condemns sin; it is grace, because it justifies the sinner. Above all, grace is costly, because it was costly to God, because it costs God the life of God’s Son—“you were bought with a price”—and because nothing can be cheap to us which is costly to God. Above all, it is grace because the life of God’s Son was not too costly for God to give in order to make us live. God did, indeed, give him up for us. Costly grace is the incarnation of God“ (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship, ed. Martin Kuske et al., trans. Barbara Green and Reinhard Krauss, vol. 4, Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2003), 45.).

That is why you rejoice. That is why you go. That is why you speak.

Conclusion

You are not a volunteer in the kingdom of God. This is not something extra. It is not a side project. It is not a good work you offer when your schedule allows.

It is your calling. It is your cross. It is the life you were baptized into—the life of dying and rising, of following Jesus, of being sent in weakness and speaking peace.

And yes, that life will wound you. It will crucify the old Adam in you. It will ask more of you than you thought you could give. But it will also give you more than you could ever ask for.

Because through it all—through success and through sorrow, through fruit and through failure—your joy does not rest in what you accomplish. Your joy rests in what He has written.

You are His. You are sent. You are sustained.

And your name is written in heaven.

Where will the call to discipleship lead you? What decisions and painful separations will it entail? …Only Jesus Christ, who bids you to follow him, knows where the path will lead. But you know that it will be a path full of mercy beyond measure. Discipleship is joy.

—Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship, DBWE 4:40

Amen.