“Take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff, for laborers deserve their food.”

— Matthew 10:9-10

Jesus sent out the twelve with work to do. He sent them with instructions to “cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those with a skin disease, cast out demons” (Matthew 10:8). They have serious work ahead of them.

As I write this, I am planning a short trip to Pittsburgh. I have my seat picked out on the airplane. I have already paid for airport parking and booked a hotel room for the night before my flight. When I arrive, I will stay at a retreat house where I have stayed many times before. I will have a room with a reasonably comfortable bed, a shower, and all the necessities. They will feed me, and they already know I am a vegetarian, so I should not have to survive on bread and mashed potatoes for a week.

And even with all of that in place, I am still planning.

I am planning what to pack and what to wear. I have been checking the weather forecast. I am considering which books to bring and whether I need both my computer and my tablet. I am doing hair-washing girl math. Some of you know exactly what I mean.

I will be gone for four days. Four days. That is all.

Jesus sent out the twelve and told them to take no money, no luggage, and no extra clothing. It is as though Jesus has never met me.

I need my stuff.

I need a plan.

But that is not the kind of evangelism Jesus has in mind.

In fact, it almost seems as though Jesus does not want the disciples—now apostles—to be too prepared. They will not be in control. They will not be self-sufficient. They will have to depend on the very people to whom they are bringing the good news.

What would that kind of evangelism look like in the church today?

What would it look like to share the gospel without pretending we have everything figured out? What would it look like to enter relationships not as experts or rescuers, but as people who also need grace, hospitality, and community? What would it look like to receive love and care from those we think we are serving?

I do not know.

Most of the evangelism I have practiced involved carrying an entire church building on my back.

Maybe I should try Jesus’ way and see what happens.

Beloved, I pray you find freedom from the burdens you were never meant to carry. I pray you discover God’s generosity in your empty hands and your left-behind suitcases. And I pray that as you share the love of Christ, you will also be surprised by the love of Christ shared with you.

Postscript: I write these devotionals several weeks ahead of time. When I wrote this, I was indeed still planning my trip to Pittsburgh.

I have now made the trip and returned home.

And let me tell you, if you have ever wondered whether the Holy Spirit has a sense of humor, she does. A big one.

The trip to Pittsburgh was a complete disaster.

Our flight was diverted from St. Louis to Memphis because of weather, then sent back to St. Louis. As we hydroplaned across the runway during landing, I overheard the flight crew discussing an overheating issue with the plane—the same plane we had just flown on and were supposed to reboard shortly.

Then there was the weather.

When we finally left St. Louis, we experienced the roughest takeoff I have ever endured. About forty-five minutes into the flight, the captain came on the intercom to announce that our plane had been struck by lightning during takeoff. Instead of landing in Pittsburgh, we were diverted to Baltimore.

We deplaned, hurried across the airport to another gate, boarded another aircraft, and finally arrived in Pittsburgh around 10:00 p.m.

I was scheduled to lead opening worship for the meeting at 4:30 p.m.

That opportunity had long since passed.

So perhaps the lesson is this: make whatever plans you want. Pack the suitcase. Reserve the seat. Check the weather. Wash your hair on the appropriate day.

And then remember that God will do what God will do.

See you next week, beloved.