Summary: When we discover the world is a risky place and our unfinished lives are in constant peril, we turn to the God who has the power, grace and persistence to hold us to the end.
The woman's face was pale. As she approached the back door after the worship service, the pastor could see she was upset. Her normally vivacious eyes were frozen. It was a sharp contrast to the rest of the people in church that morning. The congregation had just concluded the service by singing a stirring rendition of Martin Luther's well-known hymn, "A Mighty Fortress is Our God." After hearing the thunderous rapture of the pipe organ at full volume, spirits were high. But not for her. The pastor asked, "Are you all right?"
"No, not really," she replied. "I've been singing that hymn for most of my life. But for the first time, I noticed a phrase that I had never noticed before. It is the line, 'The body they may kill, God's truth abideth still.' Pastor, I didn't expect to hear something like that in church."
It is a stark line. Perhaps it lingers from Reformation days long ago when doctrinal matters were a matter of life and death. Throughout church history, there have been scores of controversies woven through the tapestry. Good Christian people have disagreed over the meaning of Bible verses. Factions have formed as some folks discerned differing theological themes and then fought over them. And sometimes, those were the internal battles within church walls.
Externally, whenever the followers of Jesus took the Gospel to new territories, they often encountered pushback, opposition and even threats on their lives. It may be hard for us to comprehend, but the commandments to love God above all else and love neighbor as self have been fighting words in some places. That has been happening since the Bible was written. In the Acts of the Apostles, saints died by swords or stoning.1 The apostle Paul often found himself in danger for preaching the good news of God. Living the Gospel can be risky business.
Followers of Jesus might not be surprised at this. A few verses before today's text, the Lord declared, "A disciple is not above the teacher."2 Simply put, whatever happened to Jesus could happen to those who follow him. Jesus treated all people with dignity and paid the price for it. He told the truth and was condemned as a result. Completely committed to God and heaven's ways, he made enemies and they took his life away. If we live by Jesus' model, we will not be exempt from suffering or even the possibility of dying for our faith.
Given the times we are in, Gospel work can be risky work. Our actions and words can create controversy. As Gene Robinson, the retired Episcopalian bishop, once said, "You can preach a judgmental and vengeful and angry God, and nobody will mind. But you start preaching a God that is too accepting, too loving, too forgiving, too merciful, too kind -- and you are in trouble!"3
Our scripture text prepares us for any conflict stirred up by spreading the Gospel. In the 10th chapter of Matthew's book, Jesus sends out his followers to expand his work. They are commissioned to preach, heal the sick and confront the structures of evil. He calls them to make a constructive difference wherever they go, and to do so in his name. This is risky work. Heaven knows that it will not be easy.
Yet Jesus was not afraid. In this brief passage, he says to us, not once but three times, "Give up your fear!" There is no reason for us to shrink from doing the work of God even if it turns out poorly.
Here is something to remember. We may serve the Gospel message, but we ourselves are not the message. The good news is greater than us. In fact, if we try to serve Christ and fail, the message will still prevail. The truth about God will be told. The secrets of God will be revealed.
One of the painful missionary stories of the nineteenth century was that of a small-town physician, Marcus Whitman, and his young wife Narcissa. With the best of Christian intentions, they heard the call of God to serve as mission workers in the Oregon territory. Marcus and Narcissa risked their lives crossing the Rocky Mountains. Arriving among the Cayuse tribe, they began to preach and teach the Christian faith, establishing a small church, school and medical clinic. It was demanding work and the churches in the eastern United States did not provide much support.
Hundreds of eastern settlers began to follow the Whitmans westward, bringing the worst impulses of their civilization. They killed off buffalo herds that the Cayuse tribe stewarded for their survival. The settlers imported attitudes of superiority, finding infinite ways to denigrate the native people they declared to be heathens. Worst of all, they brought viruses for which the Cayuse had no immunity.
In 1847, a measles epidemic decimated the Cayuse community. Dr. Whitman and his wife immunized as many children as they could, white and Cayuse alike. However, the Cayuse children had no immunity to the mild vaccinations. Many of them died. The tribe was suspicious of this east coast medicine and blamed the Whitmans for dispensing poison.
On the morning of November 29, Dr. Whitman conducted a funeral for three Cayuse children who had died of measles. He spoke of Jesus, the consolation of the Gospel and the hope of resurrection. The father of the children could not bear what he heard. Later that day, he brought Cayuse warriors into the mission compound, armed with tomahawks and guns. They killed the Whitmans and many of their colleagues, believing their children had died due to "bad medicine" brought to them from the white medicine man.
That tragedy prompted further retaliation from the settlers, including the forced removal of the Cayuse people from their land.4 An initial act of Christian compassion unraveled due to cultural misunderstanding, distrust and violence. To paraphrase Martin Luther's hymn, "bodies they did kill."
And yet, even in those conflicted circumstances, wasn't the Gospel proclaimed in word and deed? Yes, it was. As the rest of Luther's hymn lyric declares, "God's truth abideth still."
What is the message to proclaim from the rooftops? What is the secret to be disclosed? Simply this: all of us matter to God. Each life has infinite value. No exceptions. Our value comes from the God who created us in the divine image and numbered the hairs on our heads.
Marcus and Narcissa Whitman risked everything to declare God's love to strangers in a different culture. Were they impatient and unyielding in their approach? Certainly, at times, but they were doing the best for Christ as they knew how. We can grant them that.
The leader of the Cayuse people grieved his three children. They were lost to a disease he did not understand and a cure that was dispensed prematurely. Did their father understand that the Whitmans were trying to save his children, not destroy them? Maybe not. When pushed to extremity, a father's love for his children provoked righteous anger. We understand that, too.
All of us love imperfectly. We don't always see the implications of our actions. Our concern for others is expressed inadequately. God knows we are imperfect saints. Yet the core message of the Gospel persists. God believes all of us are worth loving, saving, rescuing and -- ultimately -- healing. There is a greater power at work in the world than our incomplete expressions of that power. This is the secret that will be revealed. God's love for each person is complete. Nothing can take that love away.
As commentator Thomas Long notes:
There is nothing that the world can do that is able to eradicate the Gospel or destroy God's loving and watchful care over the faithful. The world can forbid missionary activity and enforce it by throwing those who bear witness to the kingdom in jail, but "nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known" (Matt. 10:26). The world can even kill those who serve the Gospel, but the murderers are not to be ultimately feared. They may have momentary power over bodily life, but they have no power over the soul. Only God has that. Only God is to be feared, and God, who counts the hairs on our heads and who does not fail to note even the falling of a single common sparrow, can be trusted to treasure those who serve the kingdom (Matthew 10:28-31).5
Love like that is a mystery, a holy gracious mystery. We bow before the all-powerful God who announces a strange dominion that will outlive our human weaknesses. God's curious kingdom comes with the declaration that all of us are worthy of it. His Good News cannot be hidden. That secret is now disclosed for all to hear.
No matter what happens, in life or death, we never need to be afraid. Not now, never. We are God's people. Nothing can snatch us away from the One who numbers the hairs on our heads. And God will finish what we cannot.