As The Father Sent Me

Sent

The Delivery That Never Left the Truck

A few months ago, a delivery truck broke down right here in town. Inside were dozens of packages—each one labeled, sealed, and ready to be delivered. The driver had his route planned, addresses loaded, everything set to go. But halfway through the day, the truck sputtered, coughed, and died on the side of the road.

So there he sat—in the cab of a silent truck, watching the world go by. All those deliveries just sitting behind him, ready for someone’s doorstep but going nowhere.

No one got what they were waiting for that day. A mother didn’t get the medicine she ordered for her child. A teacher didn’t get the classroom supplies she needed. A family didn’t get the part to fix their refrigerator. Everything was ready to go—but nothing was sent.

That image stuck with me. Because it’s a picture of what can happen to us as the Church. We gather. We worship. We’re filled with truth, peace, and grace—and then sometimes… we stall out. We sit on the side of the road with the Gospel still in the truck.

But here’s the thing—later that evening, as the tow truck came to haul it away, the driver noticed something. One package—just one—had somehow slid out of the back door when he broke down. And when they returned the next day, there it was… sitting on a neighbor’s porch, delivered.

Somehow, despite the breakdown, one message still made it home.

And maybe that’s what Jesus was showing His disciples in John 20: that even when fear locks the doors and doubt stalls the engine, His Spirit still finds a way to move. “As the Father has sent Me, I am sending you.”

Because being sent isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being willing. It’s about carrying His peace, following His example, and trusting His Spirit to deliver what the world desperately needs.

The disciples were stuck—like that delivery truck on the side of the road. They were huddled behind locked doors, not because they didn’t believe in Jesus, but because fear had brought everything to a halt. Their faith was sealed up tight, labeled with good intentions but going nowhere.

And then—suddenly—Jesus shows up.

John writes, “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’”

He didn’t start with a lecture. He didn’t bring up their failures or their fear. He brought peace. Before He sent them out, He settled them down. Before He gave them a mission, He gave them His presence.

That’s how Jesus always begins—He meets us in our locked rooms. When anxiety traps us, when the “what ifs” crowd our hearts, when we feel stalled on the shoulder of life—He still finds a way in. And when He says, “Peace be with you,” it’s not a polite greeting—it’s a commissioning. It’s as if He’s saying, “What I’ve placed in you, I now want you to carry.” Because peace is never meant to be stored—it’s meant to be sent.

The world doesn’t need more opinions or arguments; it needs the peace of Christ that can walk through walls, calm storms, and heal wounds. When we walk into the chaos of someone’s life and carry His peace instead of our pride, His presence instead of our panic—people begin to see Jesus through us. You and I are the delivery route. Each day is another doorstep. Every conversation is a chance for the Gospel to arrive.

And maybe that’s why Jesus doesn’t wait for the disciples to feel ready before sending them. He knows peace doesn’t come after obedience—it comes with obedience. You carry it as you go.

Following His Example — Sent with Christ’s Pattern

When Jesus said, “As the Father has sent Me, I am sending you,” He wasn’t just giving a task—He was handing over a blueprint. He was saying, “The way I lived… the way I loved… the way I served—now that’s how I want you to go.” Think about that for a moment. Jesus didn’t send us out with a list of rules; He sent us out with His example. He’s not just our Savior—He’s our pattern. So how was Jesus sent?

He was sent in humility. Paul tells us in Philippians 2 that though Jesus was “in very nature God,” He made Himself nothing. He traded a throne for a towel, heaven’s glory for earth’s grime. He didn’t come marching in with status; He came kneeling in service. And that’s where real mission begins—not with pride or power, but with humility that bends low enough to lift others up.

He was sent in love. Love was the language of His ministry. Every step, every word, every miracle—flowed from the heartbeat of John 3:16: “For God so loved the world…” Love didn’t just send Him; love sustained Him. And if we’re going to carry His message, love must sustain us too.

He was sent to seek and to save. Jesus didn’t wait for people to come find Him. He went looking. He entered broken homes, walked dusty roads, and sought out those others ignored. Luke 19:10 says it clearly: “The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” That’s intentional. That’s pursuit. That’s love in motion.

And He was sent to serve. Mark 10:45 tells us, “Even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.” Service wasn’t a side project—it was His posture. He showed us that greatness isn’t about climbing higher; it’s about stooping lower.

And here’s where it lands for us: To live a sent life isn’t about adding something new to your schedule. It’s about allowing Jesus’ pattern to shape your steps right where you already are. It’s being humble in the heated conversation. Loving the person who tests your patience. Reaching out to someone who’s been forgotten. Serving in the quiet spaces where no spotlight shines. When you follow His pattern, even ordinary moments become holy ground. Because the way He was sent—that’s the way we go.

Relying on His Spirit — Sent with His Power

When Jesus said, “As the Father has sent Me, I am sending you,” He didn’t stop there. John tells us, “And with that, He breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” That moment matters. Because it reminds us that Jesus never sends us without also sustaining us. He doesn’t hand us a mission and say, “Good luck.” He breathes His own life into us—His strength, His courage, His power.

Think about it: the same breath that spoke the universe into existence…the same breath that raised dry bones to life in Ezekiel’s vision…the same breath that filled the lungs of Adam in the garden…now fills the hearts of His disciples. This is more than encouragement—it’s empowerment. The Spirit isn’t an optional upgrade for the Christian life; He’s the engine that makes movement possible.

We can have the best intentions, the right theology, even the clearest calling—but without the breath of the Spirit, we’re like that delivery truck with a full load and no ignition. The packages are ready, the route is mapped—but nothing moves until the power comes on.

And maybe that’s what Jesus was showing them. That peace isn’t carried by effort, and His pattern can’t be lived out by sheer willpower—it’s all fueled by the Spirit. When we rely on Him, courage replaces fear. Compassion replaces apathy. Movement replaces stagnation. The Spirit turns hesitation into obedience. He takes ordinary people—timid, unsure, unqualified—and makes them bold carriers of divine hope.

So when you walk into a hospital room, a classroom, a meeting, a kitchen—wherever you go—you don’t go alone. The same breath that filled those first disciples fills you too. Because a sent life is not about pushing harder—it’s about yielding deeper. It’s not powered by adrenaline; it’s powered by the Spirit of the living Christ breathing through you.

And that’s how the Gospel moves forward—even when the world thinks it’s stalled. Even when it looks like the truck’s broken down, His Spirit is still delivering grace in ways we can’t see.

The Package That Still Made It Home

Remember that delivery truck we talked about? The one that broke down on the side of the road, full of packages that never made it to their destinations? By the world’s measure, that day looked like a failure. The engine was dead. The route was cut short. Everything was still sitting there—except that one small box that somehow slipped out the back and landed on a porch.

Here’s the twist. A few days later, the driver got a call. It turns out the package that “fell out” wasn’t random—it was the most urgent delivery on his route. Inside was the medicine a mother had been waiting for to help her sick child. That one package—the one everyone thought was lost—was the one that mattered most.

And that’s the beauty of God’s sending. Even when you feel stalled, even when fear locks the doors, even when you think you’ve failed—His Spirit is still moving. He’s still delivering hope through you, often in ways you’ll never see. You may think you’ve broke down—but God’s already sent something through you that’s still on its way to someone’s heart.

A word you spoke in love. A prayer you prayed in faith. A moment you showed up when no one else did. That’s how His message keeps moving.

Because a sent life isn’t about success—it’s about surrender. It’s not about making the delivery perfect—it’s about trusting the Sender to get it there. So, as Jesus said, “As the Father has sent Me, I am sending you.” Go carry His peace. Follow His pattern. Rely on His Spirit.

And when the day comes that you feel stuck on the side of the road, remember—His message is still on the move. Somehow, by His grace, one package will still find its way home.