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Matthew 9:35 - 10:8

³⁵ Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness. ³⁶ When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. ³⁷ Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; ³⁸ therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”

Matthew 10

10 Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. ² These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee and his brother John; ³ Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus and Thaddaeus ⁴ Simon the Cananaean and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.

⁵ These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not take a road leading to gentiles, and do not enter a Samaritan town, ⁶ but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. ⁷ As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ ⁸ Cure the sick; raise the dead; cleanse those with a skin disease; cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment.

—

This week our Friday morning meditation group returned to the Hancock Point Chapel for the summer. Our leader, Angela Absher, is here from Colorado, and all of us who attend are grateful for her presence and teaching.

On Friday, Angela spoke about the importance of a meditation practice. When we benefit from meditation—through greater calm or clarity—the people around us benefit as well. The positive effects of meditation extend beyond ourselves. Angela also observed that one cannot practice meditation without becoming a more compassionate person. Those comments stayed with me as I reflected on today's passage.

The passage begins with Jesus traveling through cities and villages. He is teaching, proclaiming good news, and healing. Everywhere he goes, he encounters people who are hurting.

And then Matthew tells us—not first about what Jesus does, but about what Jesus feels.

"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd."

Jesus sees people. He really sees them. He notices their struggles. He notices their exhaustion. He notices their loneliness, their fear, their uncertainty about the future. And seeing all of this, his heart is moved. It is Jesus’ compassion that compels him to take action.

The Greek word translated “compassion” is a powerful one (splanchnizomai). It means to be moved in the depths of one's being. Jesus does not simply notice the crowds or feel sorry for them. Their suffering reaches into his very core. And from that place of deep compassion comes action. Compassion comes before healing. Compassion comes before sending. Compassion comes before ministering.

Many of us today feel something similar when we look around our communities. We see farm families struggling to survive. We see young people leaving small towns because opportunities seem scarce. We see divisions in our nation growing deeper. We see neighbors carrying grief, financial worries, health concerns, and quiet burdens they rarely speak aloud.

We see Creation groaning under environmental stress. We see people marginalized because of who they are, whom they love, or where they come from.

If we are paying attention to the world around us, our hearts ache. The question is: What do we do with that ache? Jesus does not tell his disciples to ignore it. Neither does he tell them simply to pray about it. What he says is, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few."

What does Jesus tell them to do? Pray. For laborers. And immediately after that, he sends them. They become the answer to their own prayers.

I imagine some of the disciples looked around and said, "What just happened?”

Perhaps we know that feeling. We pray for justice. We pray for peace. We pray for kindness. We pray for someone else to help. And sometimes God gently responds, "Yes. Go. You. I am sending you." There are people who need healing. There are people who need to know they are loved by God. There are people who need hope. 

Jesus Christ calls us each into lives of compassion and courage. This can feel overwhelming. The instructions Jesus gives are extraordinary: heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the diseased, cast out demons. Most of us do not feel qualified for that job description.

But perhaps we should notice something about the disciples themselves.

Matthew carefully lists their names. Peter, impulsive and flawed. Thomas, the doubter. Matthew, the tax collector. Simon the Zealot, a political radical. A group of ordinary, imperfect, sometimes confused people. Not spiritual superheroes. Just people. People who were willing to answer God’s call.

One of the most hopeful truths in this passage may be that Jesus does not wait for perfect people. Jesus works through ordinary people. People like us.

We can sometimes feel insignificant in a world of enormous problems. We may wonder whether our efforts matter. Can a meal shared at a community supper matter? Can a visit to a lonely neighbor matter? Can providing pajamas for a child going into Foster Care matter? Can advocacy for justice matter? Can welcoming a family that feels excluded matter? Can caring for Creation in our corner of the world matter? 

Our faith compels us to answer with a resounding yes! to all of these questions. Because the Kin-dom of God rarely arrives through spectacular displays of power. It comes near through ordinary acts of compassion. A phone call. A listening ear. A casserole delivered after surgery. Our voices raised on behalf of those whose voices have been ignored. A church that opens its doors wider than the world expects.

When we offer these small acts of kindness we become compassion in action. And our actions become cause for hope. For ourselves and for others. 

When we sing, “Whom shall I send?” the faithful response is not, "Send someone else." It is, "Here I am." Not because we are perfectly prepared. Not because we have all the answers. But because we are following Jesus.

The last words that we heard from the Gospel of Matthew this morning were of Jesus telling the disciples, "You received without payment; give without payment."

In a culture where almost everything has a price tag, Jesus reminds us that grace is different.

God's love, God’s grace, God's mercy are all gifts freely given. And because we have received them freely, we are called to share them freely. The church at its best is a community that understands this. A place where welcome is not earned. Where dignity is not conditional. Where compassion is offered freely to all. Where God's abundance is shared rather than hoarded.

This is a challenging text because it refuses to let compassion remain only as a feeling. It pushes us toward action. But it is also a comforting text because it reminds us that the work is not ours alone. Jesus sends the disciples, sends all of us, with his authority, his presence, and his purpose. And it is a hopeful text because it declares that God's kin-dom has already drawn near. Not someday. But here. Now. In every act of healing and reconciliation. In every moment when compassion becomes action.

The harvest is still plentiful. The laborers are still few. The need is still great. And Christ is still calling ordinary people to extraordinary love.

May we hear that call. 

May we trust that God's Spirit is already, and will continue to be, at work among us.

And when the voice of Christ asks, "Whom shall I send?"

May we answer with courage, humility, and hope: "Here I am, Lord. Send me."

Amen

Rev. TJ Mack – April 14, 2026