The Savior's Secret Agents

In Nomine Iesu
St. Mark 9:38-50
September 30, 2018
Proper 21B

Dear Saints of Our Savior~

If anyone ever says to you, “You look like a pastor,” don’t take that as a compliment. It’s happened to me before. I tell someone what I do for a living and they say, “Oh, sure. You look like a pastor.” I try not to be insulted by that, because I think what they really mean is: “You look old, and your wardrobe is a bit outdated.” It’s true that members of the clergy do have a way of sticking out. The religious elite are often easy to recognize.

But on the positive side, this makes it easy to spot imposters—people pretending to be pastors—charlatans acting like apostles. That’s how this morning’s Gospel reading opens up. The disciples spotted someone driving out demons in the name of Jesus who didn’t look the part. “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” He wasn’t a card-carrying member of the disciples club—didn’t have the synodical seal of approval. He wasn’t properly credentialed—was exorcising demons without a license. This was a lawsuit waiting to happen, so the disciples moved to shut down that unauthorized operation.

What the disciples are actually demonstrating here is that the Old Adam in each of us is a total control freak. He likes to have things his way and according to his rules and standards. He doesn’t like it when things get messy around the edges. And that’s a problem—especially in the church, where things are sometimes messy and unpredictable. Here was some guy going around casting out demons in the name of Jesus. People were trusting in Jesus because of him. He was proclaiming the Savior’s power in places where the disciples were not. You’d think this would be cause for amazement and joy. But not so for the disciples. To them, this was a clear cut case of an outsider impersonating insiders like them. He wasn’t one of the chosen twelve and so they sought to stop him.

The disciples elected to make a power play and exert their control over the situation. Sure, Jesus might have been the CEO; but they were the Board of Directors. We do that too in our life together as the church. We shoot people down for taking the initiative—or just for trying a new approach. Everybody tries to defend their own turf and get their own way. Power plays are the name of the game: “I’m the pastor here so we’ll do it my way.” Or,
“I’ve been a member here for fifty years so we’ll do it my way.” Or,
“I give more money than most so we’ll do it my way.”
We treat the church like an exclusive country club where money and power and status and bylaws are the most important things—instead of treating the church like a family of sinners gathered around Jesus and His gifts of forgiveness.

The disciples were no doubt expecting to be praised by Jesus for their vigilance. In reality, they were acting like over-zealous third-grade hall monitors who were tattling to the Teacher. But Jesus turns the tables on them—and on our Old Adam too: “Don’t,” said Jesus. “Don’t stop him, for no one who does a mighty work in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me.” Jesus wanted them to know that, despite all their power plays, the power belongs to Him and to His Word. The disciples were just the instruments—the hands and mouths that Jesus was using to accomplish His purposes. And if Jesus wants to utilize some freelance exorcist out on the fringes, well, that’s His business.

It turns out that “Team Jesus” has a much bigger roster than anyone could imagine. “The one who is not against us is for us.” That is a very inclusive approach, wouldn’t you say? We always want to make things exclusive with ourselves in control. But that’s not the way of Jesus.
It turns out, our God is sneaky. It turns out He doesn’t need insiders like us with our boards and by-laws and membership cards. He’s got His secret agents scattered all over the place—just like the anonymous exorcist in today’s text who didn’t have all the right credentials. Or perhaps, like in Russia, where the pious old grandmother baptized her grandchildren after the communists took over all the churches and killed all the priests. Or like the total stranger who comes along with a cup of cold water and a gentle word of good news about Jesus Christ for some poor, thirsty soul. Or like that friend of yours who loved you enough to confront you when you were secure in your sin (and needed confronting). Oh, your God is sneaky. He’s got His secret agents all over the place; and most of the time they don’t look anything like a pastor.

This means that no one is absolutely necessary for the success of God’s kingdom. And maybe that’s what was hardest for John and the other eleven disciples to swallow—their own non-necessity. It alarmed them that there were others who could drive out demons in Jesus’ name. If they didn’t do it, others would. If they couldn’t do it, others could. The twelve weren’t necessary, just as none of us is necessary. Important, yes. Loved, you bet. Died for and redeemed, certainly so. But not necessary. God can and will get it done, even without you and without me. You can’t bear the burden of necessity (even though we all try). That burden will break you down and burn you out.

As a pastor, I see this all the time—in others and in myself. It’s all up to me, we say. I’ve got to get results. I’ve got to beat the cancer. I’ve got to heal my marriage. I’ve got to get straight A’s. I’ve got to be the perfect parent with the perfect kids—the perfect pastor with the perfect counsel—the perfect Christian with the perfect witness. But I’m here to tell you, you can’t do it. You can’t bear that burden and Jesus doesn’t expect you to. Don’t make an idol out of yourself—out of your own importance and your own indispensability.

Pastors are particularly prone to this kind of thinking, just like the disciples were. We start to think that the success of the congregation depends on us—on the power of our personality, on our wisdom, on our ability to teach and lead and inspire. When the truth of the matter is that the church always draws her life from Christ—that Jesus sustains and builds the church—despite the pastor and despite all the self-proclaimed movers and shakers.

Here’s a little something I’ve come to appreciate over the years: The salvation of the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders; it rests on the shoulders of Him who stretched out His arms on the cross for you. Solving and fixing all the problems in your life doesn’t rest on your shoulders; it rests on the shoulders of Him who stretched out His arms on the cross for you. He can bear it. We cannot. God calls us each—not to be perfect—not to be failure-free—but simply to be faithful—to trust in Him and not in ourselves.

Being faithful means having the faith that God will get the results He desires—in your life, in the life of His church and around the world. Being faithful means that you leave the results to Jesus. It doesn’t all depend on you. But it does all depend on Jesus. He proved His faithfulness on the cross. And He always gets the results we need. In Him is forgiveness for our idolatry of ourselves—forgiveness for our push for perfection that pushes Jesus aside as if to say, “I don’t need you, Lord.”

The truth of the matter is that He doesn’t need you—but He has chosen you to be His own nonetheless. He has chosen you and washed you and clothed you and fed you and forgiven you. We have a word for all that in the church. That word is “grace.” By that grace you have been saved. And by that grace you are able to go out and live each day with confidence and joy—liberated from the need to succeed because Jesus has given you His success. Jesus has given you His perfection through faith; and you can’t add to that.

Your God doesn’t need you, but He chooses to use you in the indispensable work of your vocations. Remember, your God is sneaky. And He’s got His secret agents stationed all around the world. And I’m going to let you in on a little secret; you are one of them—one of the Savior’s secret agents. At your workplace, in your home, in your neighborhood, in the classroom and here in your congregation your sneaky God is using you. You are the salt of the earth, carrying the flavor of Jesus’ life, and death and resurrection wherever you go.

So stop thinking it all depends on you. Your choices, your words, your actions, your performance—they are all important. But Jesus’ words and deeds matter more. His Word is the final word. His death for your sins and His resurrection mean that nothing can separate you from Him, or Him from you. It’s not all up to you. It’s all up to Jesus. Everything depends on Him. And Jesus never fails.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.