A Harvest In Here Graduate Sunday

Let me tell you my favorite graduation story. If you’ve heard it before, bear with me; it’s worth hearing again.

Renowned pastor and writer Will Willimon once recalled a confrontation he had while serving as Dean of the Duke University Chapel. Near the end of one academic year, he received an angry phone call from the father of a graduating senior who was active in campus ministry. She had recently surprised her family by turning down a job offer from a respected engineering firm in order to work on a clean water project in Haiti.

Her father wasn’t pleased, and he blamed the dean of the chapel. If my daughter hadn’t been so involved in campus ministry, he contended, she would never have entertained such a crazy idea. Willimon responded to the father’s tirade by reminding him that, in fact, he, and not the dean, had first introduced his daughter to Jesus; he had brought his child to church over and over again to hear the sacred stories; and so he had exposed her to God’s radical, risky love for the world.

Speechless for a moment, the father confessed, “But… we just wanted her to be a Presbyterian.”[1]

As it turns out, discipleship is not a spectator sport. As soon as Jesus discloses the compassion of God, as soon as he manifests God’s power to heal and restore hope, he sends his students “like sheep into the midst of wolves” to continue the work in his name. “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few,” he declares, so get out there.

Of course, there are no guarantees– no promise of a return on investment, no strategy for growing wealth or status– just the risks and rewards of kingdom work. Offer the peace and healing of God to everyone you meet, Jesus implies, and let the chips fall where they may. If things go sideways, you’ll know what to do; the Spirit will make sure of it.

And off they go.

Have you ever wondered why anyone would say yes to this commissioning for service? The father of that Duke graduate would have dissuaded the disciples; after all, it’s not exactly a prudent career choice by conventional standards. What’s the appeal?

It must have something to do with the one doing the commissioning, this mysterious rabbi who unveils the very heart of God; it must be the irrational effect of love. And as soon as they encounter it, the disciples can’t help but share it.

The following reflection puts it beautifully:

In this week’s Gospel, Jesus looks out at the crowds and is “moved with compassion.” But the word Matthew uses is stronger than it sounds. It’s not polite concern. It’s a kind of gut-wrenching, visceral disturbance. Jesus is shaken by the sight of humanity “harassed and helpless.”

But what’s equally striking is what doesn’t move him. He isn’t concerned with his reputation. He doesn’t stand at a distance to diagnose, correct, or vindicate. He doesn’t divide the world into the worthy and the blameworthy. Instead, he calls ordinary people and sends them into the mess — into the “in-between” spaces of broken relationships, social fractures, and inner turmoil.

As he sends his disciples, he tells them, “You received without payment; give without payment.” No transaction. No settling of accounts.

Something begins to shift in us when we go forth in that kind of freedom. We loosen our grip on reputation. We no longer need to prove we’re right, justified, or on the winning side. In that space, another kind of love becomes possible. A love without rivalry. A love that does not seek vindication. A love that… can look [even] at wolves [and perceive] their “sheepliness” — [can] imagine that even those who harm, betray, or accuse are, somewhere deep down, lost, frightened, and scattered.

This is the shepherd’s heart. It’s the same love we glimpse on the cross: “Father, forgive them…” Not as a moral achievement, but because, even there, Jesus loves his slayers. And now, that same love is being formed in us. The harvest, it turns out, is not just out there. It’s in here.[2]

The harvest is plentiful, friends! Through the Holy Spirit, God has poured more than enough love into your heart for your life’s work. Let that conviction be an encouragement to you today, graduating high school seniors; you, too, people of God at every stage of the journey. So take your cue from Jesus: offer the peace and healing of God to everyone you meet, and let the chips fall where they may. If things go sideways, you’ll know what to do; the Spirit will make sure of it.

[1] Related by The Rev. Terry Brandt, on the occasion of my installation at Sharon Lutheran Church, Grand Forks, North Dakota, September 8^th, 2013.

[2] streetpsalms.org/proper-6-11-year-a/.