Parenting is a skill that has to be learned as you go along.  There are no shortcuts and learning the fundamentals takes about eighteen years, per child.  Which must be one reason it feels so good to become a grandparent.  By then, you finally know enough to be a good parent so that, when your kids leave their children with you for the weekend, you can spend the entire time – spoiling them rotten.  All of which sets you up to savor the moment your kids come home and ask you – how to handle spoiled children. 

By then, of course, you know and, for the first time, your children want more than the car keys and some extra cash; they actually want your advice because they are hoping to become good parents themselves by the time they become grandparents.  Does that sum up good parenting?  A never-ending cycle of giving the best you have to offer as you go along, hoping that, someday, those you love the most will actually receive what you have to give.  According to Jesus, that’s something of what’s involved in being a follower of his, too. 

This is what’s called a descriptive text.  It describes something that happened between Jesus and the twelve disciples.  It does not necessarily prescribe what our experience with Jesus will be like.  For his own reasons, Jesus gave those twelve the “authority,” to cast “unclean spirits” out of people, and to “cure every disease and sickness.”  Nothing in scripture teaches that every follower of Jesus will have the same powers.  Otherwise, we’d all recognize a demon when we saw one and have the power to cure cancer.  Nothing is more dangerous, in interpreting scripture, than to make every description of what happened a prescription of what will or should happen as we follow Jesus.  But, there are fundamental principles here that can help us become better people and disciples with each passing day.  Jesus called the disciples, gave them spiritual gifts and sent them out into the world to make a good difference.  Jesus does the same for all who follow him.  We are called, spiritually gifted and sent out to do good.  Which means living in a never-ending cycle of giving the best we have to give – as we go along.

As we go along – giving.  Luci Wayman has tried to train me in how to deal with people on the streets who ask for money.  She’s tried to help me understand better ways of helping people than giving them cash.  But, the other day, Nancy, Jerry Spivey and I were downtown at the Farmer’s Market and a man came up to me with a disfigured face a very sad story.  Before I knew it, I was dipping into my wallet and wishing him a good day.  We were in a hurry, you know, on the way to the hospital to see someone who was sick. 

That whole event has bothered me ever since.  Not that man asking me for help.  And, not even the thought of how he might easily mishandle the cash, as though I handle mine all that well.  But, the way I responded.  Thinking I was doing him a favor.  And, wondering now if I was helping him or just trying to get rid of him.  Is that how Jesus helped me?  Helps me?  One translation of Jesus’ instruction reads, “‘Freely you have received, freely give (NIV).’”  In the same way we’ve received from God we are to give to others.  Giving people aren’t worried too much about what time it is.  Giving people are more worried about people.  Giving people measure the worth of their days more by what goes out than what comes in.  Giving, like parenting, is more art than skill.  More passion than process.  Jesus spoke of free giving.  Giving people define freedom more in terms of opportunities for service than opportunities for self. 

What if I’d given that man five minutes of my time?  Any chance it might have meant as much to him as five dollars?  Five minutes of respect, dignity, a listening ear, compassion.  Some of the same that Jesus has so liberally given me free of charge.  However far Jesus has to go with that man of the streets, he has at least as far to go with me in getting us both further down the road toward giving than taking.  Kingdom ministry is not something that happens as much on a mission trip to say, Laredo.  It’s a way of giving, as we go along. 

As we go along – traveling light.  Jesus told the disciples that what they really needed, had to have, would come to them as they did their good work and God provided through the generosity of others.  On the surface, these are curious instructions if you’re going on a long journey.  Like an umbrella in the summer or a jacket in the fall, isn’t it better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it?  Jesus seemed to believe that there was something essential to faith work that demanded traveling light.

The disciples were to “‘proclaim the good news.  The kingdom of heaven is near.’”  There is a message we preach by what we say.  There is another message we preach by what we live.  We all know which gets the better hearing.  There’s something contradictory about preaching to others what it means to trust God but only if we never have to put our 401K at risk.  There’s something contradictory about preaching peace while living fretfully.  With rare exception, the more we pack, the more we fret.  The more people see us fretting over getting and keeping more stuff, the less they will listen to us when we speak about faith.  What connection do you think there is between material simplicity and spiritual substance?  Does traveling light more likely validate our message to others about trust?

A mother brought her son to Gandhi one day and asked him to tell her son to stop eating sugar.  Gandhi told her to go away and come back in two weeks.  In two weeks she returned and Gandhi told the boy to stop eating sugar.  The mother was baffled.  “Why didn’t you tell him to stop eating sugar when I came two weeks ago?” she asked.  Because, Gandhi said, two weeks ago I was still eating sugar. 

Do we have anything to say to others about trusting God if our appetites for what is spiritually shallow are as voracious as their own?  Sure, we need food, shelter and clothing.  Jesus told us that our Heavenly father is compassionately aware of that.  It is also true that those who take to the road of discipleship will have to live constantly checking their backpacks for unnecessary luggage. 

As we go along – letting go.  Jesus told his disciples to be sensitive, as they went, to those who would have an interest in what they had to say.  To invest themselves where people gave a hearing. 

To let moments of rejection only serve as encouragement to look elsewhere for better opportunities.  Not everyone would want what they had to offer, not even their offerings of peace.  “‘If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake the dust off your feet as you leave . . ..’”  Easier said than done, right?  There are three principles here however, that would make us all better people.  We should be sensitive to those who seem to have an ear for what we have to say, not invest ourselves where they do not and leave the judgment of what all that means to God. 

The disciples wanted to give the gift of the gospel.  Some would receive it.  Some would not.  It was a precious gift.  But, some would find it worthless.  Sodom and Gomorrah are the archetypical Old Testament models for unchecked paganism and rampant immorality.  But, they’d had less opportunity than those who would hear the gospel.  Jesus said that they would find God’s judgment more tolerable than those who later heard the gospel and refused to accept it.  The greater the privilege, the greater the responsibility.  But, only God knows who has had what and who deserves what.  It’s his judgment, not ours.

Not everyone will have an ear to hear or heart to accept what we have to give.  Some will simply ignore us.  Jesus wasn’t kidding about sending us out “like sheep into the midst of wolves.”  Some, even some Christians, will be rude, even mean (not all wolves live in the woods).  Our tendency, when others reject us, is to strike out.  To treat them as they’ve treated us.  But, only God knows who deserves what.  Sometimes, we’ll even try repackaging our gift, trying to be market sensitive so everyone will find it appealing.  Then, we only prostitute ourselves to the wishes and whims of whomever we meet next and end up with a gift no one can use. 

Let go, Jesus said.  Let people be responsible for their own choices; “‘shake off the dust.’”  Leave judgment to God.  We don’t get to choose who will want what we have.  In a mysterious way we may never understand, they will choose us, like strangers who find us on the street.  When they do, Jesus said, make your investment there.  When they don’t, let go and move on.  Someone will want and need our unique gift.  Whatever you do, Jesus said, spend your energy giving, not judging.

I’ve had this friend for some thirty years whom I’ve invited him into nearly every significant moment of my life.  Only one thing bugs me about him.  We never talk, and I mean never, unless I call first.  When I call, we always pick up the conversation right where we left it off and it’s as genuine as anything I’ve ever known.  Until the recent past, I haven’t made a significant decision in all these years that I didn’t ask his opinion first.  He just made a very significant career change.  I heard about it third-hand.  He was excited to tell me all about it, when I called.  For some reason, he doesn’t need my friendship as much as I need his.  I don’t know why. 

What I do know is that we never get hurt more than when we expect or need others to love us the way we want to love them.  There is no heavier luggage to tote through life than the unrealistic expectation that everyone is going to be graciously responsive and treat us in loving and kind ways.  Only God knows why this friend doesn’t need what I have to give.  Our lives have gone different directions over the years, maybe that’s part of it.  I don’t know.  He just doesn’t seem to need what I have to give.  One option is to keep calling and pouring more of myself into that relationship hoping for a different response. 

On the other hand, I recently got a call from a person in another city who’d read something I’d written.  I didn’t seek her out.  She’d found me, through a friend, via the Internet.  She’d gone through a horrible, tragic divorce and was near suicide.  Something I’d written helped her take a step back from the brink.  I’ve been wondering, lately, where I should invest my next nickel on a phone call. 

What do you think Jesus would have to say about that?