Is. 66:10-14; Gal. 6:14-18; Lk. 10:1-12, 17-20
We live in a time of turmoil. The headlines scream of political unrest, nations rising against nations, families being torn apart, natural disasters increasing in frequency and severity, religious intolerance fueling violence, and individuals wandering in despair, struggling to find meaning and purpose. Into this broken and chaotic world, Christ sends His people with a message that is as urgent and powerful today as it was when He first spoke it: "The kingdom of God has come near to you."
In Luke 10, Jesus appoints seventy others and sends them ahead of Him. These are not the twelve apostles. They are ordinary followers—unnamed disciples like you and me. Jesus sends them in pairs, vulnerable and dependent, like lambs among wolves. He sends them without money, without provisions, and without the comforts of predictability. Because their strength lies not in what they carry but in Who they carry—the presence and message of the Kingdom of God.
We begin with this simple but radical truth: God chooses to bring His reign into this world through His people. The messengers are flawed, the world is hostile, but the message is unstoppable. This is how God has always worked. In the Old Testament, He called Abraham, a childless wanderer, to be the father of nations. He called Moses, a fugitive, to challenge Pharaoh. He raised David, a shepherd boy, to be king. None of these people were ideal by human standards, but God equipped them because they were willing.
Just as God sent the seventy, He sends us into today’s world. He sends us into war zones, into communities divided by politics, into homes fractured by misunderstanding, into hearts plagued by hopelessness. And He sends us not with a sword, but with peace. “Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’”
Let us consider the plight of our world today. Wars rage in many corners of the globe—some declared, others hidden behind politics and propaganda. We recall Isaiah's prophecy: "They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore" (Isaiah 2:4). This is the vision of God's reign—a world transformed by peace, not dominated by violence.
Yet how do we bring this peace? First, by being present. The seventy did not transform towns by policy or power, but by presence. They entered homes, ate meals, healed the sick, and proclaimed the nearness of God. Likewise, we are called to be present in the world’s pain.
One of the most moving stories from Mother Teresa’s ministry happened on a typical day in the streets of Calcutta. As she and her Sisters of Charity were walking, they came across a man lying in the gutter—half-naked, his body covered in sores, and swarming with maggots. He had been abandoned, discarded like refuse, and was moments from death.
Most people passed by without a glance. But Mother Teresa knelt down beside him. She gently lifted his broken body and carried him to her home for the dying—Nirmal Hriday. There, she and the sisters washed his wounds, gave him clean clothes, food, and held his hand as he slipped into death.
He did not survive. But before he died, he whispered, “I have lived like an animal on the streets, but I am dying like an angel—loved and cared for.”
Mother Teresa didn’t change policy or start a campaign. She was simply present—a living vessel of Christ’s peace in a place of despair. That one act of presence brought dignity, peace, and a glimpse of the kingdom of God into a dying man’s life.
This story mirrors the mission of the seventy in Luke 10. Like them, we are not always called to save the world in grand gestures, but to enter the homes, sit with the hurting, and proclaim peace—sometimes with words, sometimes just with presence. When we do this, we incarnate the nearness of God's kingdom.
Secondly, we bring God’s reign through compassion. Consider the story of Joseph in Genesis. Betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, falsely accused, and imprisoned, Joseph had every reason to seek vengeance when he rose to power. But instead, he forgave and provided for his family in a time of famine. In Genesis 50:20, he says, "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives." Here we see a man who understood God's sovereignty and chose mercy. In a world that often mirrors the betrayal and injustice Joseph experienced, we are called to respond not with bitterness, but with redemptive love.
The seventy are told not to carry money or sandals, and not to greet anyone on the road. These instructions might seem harsh, but they serve a purpose. Jesus is urging focus and dependence on God. In times of natural calamity—earthquakes, floods, fires—we often see the best and worst of humanity. Relief efforts sometimes falter due to disorganization or self-interest. But there are also stories of selfless courage—firefighters in Australia who stood between walls of flame to save wildlife, or volunteers who braved floods in Kerala, India, to rescue stranded families. These are modern-day laborers in the harvest, sent out with no guarantee of success, but filled with compassion.
Jesus tells His followers that when they are welcomed, they are to heal the sick and say, "The kingdom of God has come near." Healing precedes proclamation. In a world filled with hurting bodies and broken spirits, our first mission is to heal—to restore dignity, to offer comfort, to listen deeply. This is seen in the ministry of the prophet Elijah, who fed the widow at Zarephath and raised her son from the dead. In 1 Kings 17, we find Elijah not just confronting kings but tending to the needs of the powerless.
When the disciples return, they are filled with joy: "Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!" Jesus acknowledges their power, saying, "I saw Satan fall like lightning," but He also redirects their joy. He reminds them, "Rejoice not that the spirits submit to you, but that your names are written in heaven." The true victory is not in signs and wonders, but in relationship with God.
This is crucial for our time. So much of modern life is performance-driven. People define their worth by achievements, appearances, or online approval. In this climate, many are spiritually exhausted, emotionally depleted, and relationally isolated. Jesus reminds us that our identity is not in what we do, but in who we are—beloved children of God, citizens of heaven.
Bringing God’s reign into the world also means confronting religious intolerance. Jesus sends the seventy to places that may or may not welcome them. He prepares them for rejection, yet commands them to offer peace anyway.
We remember the story of Daniel, who continued to pray in defiance of a royal decree. He was thrown into the lion’s den, but God preserved him. His steadfastness brought the attention of a king and the transformation of a nation. Daniel's faith in a hostile culture exemplifies what it means to bring God's kingdom near in the face of intolerance. Similarly, in recent history, we think of Martin Luther King Jr., whose peaceful resistance against racial injustice was rooted in the gospel. He, too, faced rejection and violence, yet his life proclaimed, "The kingdom of God has come near."
And what of the family, which today faces many trials—divorce, generational conflict, absent parents, and rebellious children. Here again, the message of the kingdom must take root. In the Old Testament, the story of Ruth and Naomi reminds us of family loyalty, restoration, and God's providence. Despite loss and displacement, Ruth's commitment to Naomi leads to unexpected redemption. In a society where families are fractured, we are called to be agents of reconciliation, modeling love, patience, and forgiveness.
Lastly, we speak to the lonely and searching individuals—those trying to find the meaning of their existence. The Book of Ecclesiastes speaks to this longing: "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity... What do people gain from all their labors?" (Ecclesiastes 1:2-3). The author wrestles with the emptiness of worldly pursuits. Yet in the end, he concludes: "Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of man" (Ecclesiastes 12:13). We find our meaning not in possessions, but in purpose. And our purpose is to love God and reflect His kingdom.
The call of Luke 10 is not an ancient relic, but a living commission. Jesus still appoints and sends. The harvest is still plentiful, the laborers still few. The wolves are still prowling, but the Lamb reigns victorious. God is calling you and me to be His ambassadors—to bring peace into conflict, healing into hurt, and hope into despair.
Satish