One of my most valuable lessons from my Sabbatical last summer wherein which I got to walk the Camino across northern Spain, is the critical importance of what I’ve come to call “despair breaks.” A despair break allows a bit of a pause before a breakdown when one is overwhelmed; it takes up space and time that could be spent pushing through a problem, but rather allows the despair to well up and be acknowledged and then one can ask themselves, “what’s the next right step?” I took despair breaks in a tea shop in Paris when I couldn’t find my way and on top of the Pyrenees Mountains after I thought I would literally be blown away by the gusts of wind, and I’ve carried despair breaks back home and have found them immensely helpful when things feel impossible or too difficult or hopeless. They might not be for everybody, but for me, despair breaks are the perfect way to acknowledge that something is wrong, but these breaks don’t let me stay in the despair because they help me ask what’s the right next step.
Our short gospel passage today concludes a three-week journey through Matthew Chapter 10. Two weeks ago, Deacon Kellie reminded us that when Christ gathered his disciples to give them instructions about how they were supposed to go out, one of the first things he instructed them to do was to travel light, to accept hospitality, and to be on guard for the work ahead. Last week, Father Steve picked up where Deacon Kellie left off, and reminded us that the mission that Christ gave his disciples, and therefore to us, is to take up the swords on the way to peace; that those who find their life will lose it and those who lose their life for Christ’s sake will find it. And this week, we hear the end of Christ’s commission to the disciples, and I like to imagine it’s a bit of an opportunity for the disciples to take a despair break and to learn to ask what’s the next right step.
We have the luxury of spreading out this great commission over three Sundays and this paired with thousands of years of distance make it easier to hear, even when it challenges us. According to Matthew chapter 9, Christ had been healing people all over: a paralytic man was able to walk, the woman who bled her whole life was healed, the daughter of the religious leader thought to be dead was restored to life, two blind men instantly able to see, and finally, casting out demons as they passed by. Christ responds to all of this, “the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” And that’s just the run up to him gathering the disciples to tell them to cast out demons on their own, heal the sick, raise the dead, take no payment, plan no details of where you go or, as Deacon Kellie put it, pack light for the journey. I can just imagine the eyes of the disciples, wide as can be, in awe and amazement not only at Christ’s miracles, but that Christ was tasking them to do the same.
I imagine Thomas trying to get every detail down in his head so that he wouldn’t miss any parts of the mission on which Christ is sending him. I can picture James, the son of Zebedee, cutting his eyes to his brother, John, beside him, ready to get to work, but more than a little intimidated by what it might entail. And I can feel Peter on the edge of his seat, champing at the bit to live into this mission before Christ has finished the instructions. Because the instructions don’t stop there, the disciples were also tasked with doing this work without fear. Before they can wrap their minds around the fact that Christ is giving these apostles the capacity to perform miracles in Christ’s name, they are also instructed to do it without fearing for their life. They are instructed that the path to the kingdom of God is lined with systems of power that must be upended, and that, as Father Steve put it, the path to peace is filled with swords.
And this is where I imagine Andrew’s face growing cloudy, and Bartholomew’s eyes darting around as he began to think how one might face their own potential death without fear, and I can sense Matthew doing mental calculations about the cost-benefit analysis of actually following Christ. The mission that Christ has laid before them is no small thing, and it is essential to remember that part of those first apostles’ mission is our mission as well. To be a follower of Christ is not just to bear the name Christian, but it requires something of us.
Over the past three Sunday’s we’ve heard the exact moment that these 12 disciples, these 12 students of Christ, became apostles, that they were sent out not just to learn about the kingdom of heaven, but to go and make it a reality. It is no small thing to follow Christ. It is no small thing to follow Christ—not for those original 12, and not for us. If you’ve found yourself over the past two weeks struggling to hear the great commission, hearing that we can’t plan and prepare as much as we would like or that we might have to take up struggles and fights that it may be easier to avoid, I’d like to invite you into a bit of a despair break.
These last few verses of Matthew chapter 10 re-center the apostles and us in the core of this mission. That we are sent by God to do this work in the world – to love others as God has loved us, to share God’s great gifts, and to work toward the liberation of all. And if you find yourself in need of a despair break because the weight of the world seems too much or the vast and expansive nature of the mission to which we are called feels impossible, I hope you can let yourself take a bit of a despair break. But I also pray that you can let yourself marvel about all the ways in which God has equipped you for the work in the past and imagine all the ways in which God will equip you in the future. We are called to this work, not because any of us are more special than another, but because our faith convicts us, because we know that the swords on the way to peace are worth taking up and that a life following Christ is better than a life we could ever plan.
So, let yourself take a break to wonder about all the ways in which your faith takes the shape of the cross, take a break to dream about the work we have been given to do, and take a break to rest in God’s infinite capacity to equip, even us, to do this work as we figure out the next right step.
A sermon delivered to the people of Christ Episcopal Church in Bowling Green, KY on Sunday, July 2, 2023 for Proper 8A.
Becca Kello 