Luke 10 might be read as suggesting that the authority given the disciples is the power to enter into a village and “tell them what is what.” I would suggest, however, that the story invites us to find an authority, an authenticity, whose source is Christ, in the midst of those to whom we are sent, be they far or near.

That invitation is found in the repetition of Jesus’ command to eat and drink what is provided for you (Luke 10:7-8).

It is curious that Jesus would repeat this admonition. The first time, one might say, “Yes, eat what they give you, don’t go around to the richest house with the best food.”

But when the charge is repeated almost immediately, one has to pause and ponder.

Here are the seventy are sent out to all the places that Jesus is to visit, filled with great power to heal and to exorcize, and Jesus is concerned that the missionaries not spend time over the wine-list or order à la carte!

What is so important about receiving table hospitality that the charge is made twice?

On a trip to Guatemala trip we encouraged our people, frightened that the food and water would make them sick, to eat what was set before them because by doing so we were acknowledging the gift that our hosts were giving us.

Indeed, every time we sat to eat rice and beans, we received not only the standard fare of most of Latin America but, more profoundly, also a steady diet of honor and humility.

To be served rice and beans prepared over a stone oven fueled by wood in dirt-floor houses on the only little table in the house was an honor.

To be told the stories of our host families’ lives over the meal was an honor.

To have the tiny house in which we were guests had been rearranged so that we might be comfortable was an honor.

The tendency, of course, was to raise one objection or another, that what was set before us was not to our taste or, more typically among our group, that it was too much for a poor family to spend on rich North Americans.

These objections were both true, perhaps, but for the sake of the gift and for the sake of learning to receive, it was important to eat what was set before us.

And when our host village offered up an entire pig to be roasted to feed our entire team, it was truly humbling.

Nobody else in the village was eating roasted pork tamales, so I had to wonder, Is this the “wage” that the laborer deserves (10:7)?

Not the food, but humility in the presence of gracious hospitality?

And is this not what we are in there to “do.”

We want so eagerly to do mission, to get on with it, to bring help to those in need, to preach good news to those who live without hope.

So: “What’s the matter? You so busy you can’t set down to eat something?”

Before we begin to proclaim or heal or build anything, we are told twice to be served by the folk we are intending to serve.

Where do we find strength and courage and grace infusing our life together?

Perhaps people in your neighborhood would rearranging their homes and their hearts to receive you?

You have noticed it. You have felt the calming peace of Christ when you have been invited into sacred moments in the life of someone who is near.

You have fallen to your knees at the quiet faithfulness of the people who are close to you.

It is an overwhelming honor to be invited into the hearts of people, to have them share their hopes and dreams, faith and doubts.

Where are our persons of peace?
Next door?
At work?
At the bar?

Our calling in the text is to proclaim the reign of God with as much power as possible, to heal the sick and cast out demons, and to announce boldly the nearness of God. But if we are to do so, it will be from the authority given to us as we encounter Jesus in the generosity of those to whom we proclaim.