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“Welcome Signs”

July 6, 2025

Psalm 66:1-9; Luke 10:1-11,

Our first Scripture reading for this morning comes from Psalm 66. Hear now the word of God.

Psalm 66:1-9

Make a joyful noise to God, all the earth;

2     sing the glory of his name;

    give to him glorious praise.

3 Say to God, “How awesome are your deeds!

    Because of your great power, your enemies cringe before you.

4 All the earth worships you;

    they sing praises to you,

    sing praises to your name.” Selah

5 Come and see what God has done:

    he is awesome in his deeds among mortals.

6 He turned the sea into dry land;

    they passed through the river on foot.

There we rejoiced in him,

7     who rules by his might forever,

whose eyes keep watch on the nations—

    let the rebellious not exalt themselves. Selah

8 Bless our God, O peoples;

    let the sound of his praise be heard,

9 who has kept us among the living

    and has not let our feet slip.

Our gospel reading for this morning comes from the gospel of Luke, chapter 10, beginning in verse 1:

Luke 10:1-11:

10 After this the Lord appointed seventy-two[a]others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. 2 He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.3 Go on your way; I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. 4 Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals, and greet no one on the road.5 Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ 6 And if a person of peace is there, your peace will rest on that person, but if not, it will return to you. 7 Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. 8 Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; 9 cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’[b] 10 But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 11 ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.’[c]

This is the word of the Lord, thanks be to God.

Let us pray,

May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all of our hearts, be pleasing and acceptable to you, our rock and our redeemer…

Our Scripture reading for this morning tells the story of how the Early Christians shared the good news of Jesus Christ with the world. They didn’t hire a marketing firm to create a viral ad campaign about the gospel of Luke. They didn’t try to seize Rome, burning the city to the ground, and declaring the start of a new nation. No, they did it by traveling around, in small groups, giving and receiving hospitality.

Hospitality is the art of caring for guests. Sometimes guests are people we know well. Sometimes guests are strangers. The laborers begin their ministry by giving hospitality to the towns they enter. They go out in pairs. Because pairs are less intimidating than groups. They carry no purse, no bag, and no sandal with them. Because they don’t want their stuff to distract from their ministry. When they enter a town, and its people welcome them, they are to eat what is set before them, cure the sick, and say that the kingdom of God has come near!

I want to spend a couple of minutes reflecting on the difference between giving and receiving hospitality. Giving hospitality allows us to do good things for others. It allows us to recognize someone else’s need and we do our best to meet that need. We like to give hospitality because it doesn’t require us to be vulnerable about our needs with others.

Receiving hospitality allows us to be with others. Where we allow our guests to care for our needs. Where we are vulnerable about our needs with others. The 72 carry no purse, no bag, and no sandal with them so that they can learn to receive the hospitality of the towns they enter.

Early in their journey, the laborers realize that some towns they enter won’t welcome or receive them. Some towns just refuse to provide the laborers with hospitality. Jesus instructs them to tell the unwelcoming town:

Even the dust of your town we wipe from our feet as a warning to you. Yet be sure of this, the Kingdom of God has come near.

Here Jesus reiterates what he said a few chapters ago in Luke. Disciples of Jesus do not respond to a town’s lack of hospitality with violence, ridicule, or anger. The laborers cannot steal a town’s chicken if the town refused to feed them. You can tell the town that the Kingdom of God has come near with or without their hospitality. You shake the dust off of your feet and you move on to the next town.

What Jesus is saying here is that it matters more how we respond to how a town treats us than how a town treats us. People won’t remember how a town treats us, but they will remember if we threaten to burn it to the ground. As followers of Jesus all of our actions tell people about the man we follow. If violence is not a possibility for Jesus, then it cannot one for his followers.

This week I’ve been thinking about how we might adopt the early church’s practice of receiving hospitality. Jesus tells the 70 that they are to eat what is set before you. I’m usually willing to eat what is set before me. Except when it comes to coffee. One thing you should know about me is that I am a coffee drinker. Some might even say a coffee snob. I have a particular way I like my coffee- medium roast with half and half. I have (strong) opinions about coffee beans, and brewing methods.

However, I’ve come to realize that not everyone drinks coffee. Coffee is not a popular morning beverage in many other parts of the world. In France they drink either espresso, or Nescafe. Espresso has so much caffeine in it that it makes me see sounds. Nescafe is an instant coffee that (to me) tastes like muddy water. In Nepal they drink sugar with a little bit of tea. In Russia they drink black tea. Or vodka. Or both.

So, depending on where I am in the world, I have to adjust my expectations for what I’ll be drinking in the morning. Yet when someone offers me something to drink, I do my best to drink it. Whether it is Nescafe in France. Sweet tea in Nepal. Vodka in Russia. Or burnt coffee at a church potluck. Even though it’s uncomfortable to drink something other than the one you are used to, I know I will not die without my morning coffee. But I may make it harder for folks to hear what I’m saying about Jesus. If I refuse to drink something prepared for me with care and love. 

I think its particularly hard for Americans to receive hospitality. Because we live in a culture that encourages us to rely on ourselves. Not our families, our communities, and certainly not strangers. Our culture also tells us that our individual preferences are more important than our relationships with our neighbors. 

One of the reasons that I love to travel is because it forces me to rely on the hospitality of strangers. Forcing myself to eat what is set before me reminds me that God is in control, not me. That God continues to provide for me through the strangers I encounter. And that at the table God is bringing all peoples and nations together.

When I began my call here at Coraopolis, I wasn’t sure what to expect. My name was on the bulletin, yes—but everything else was new. The sanctuary layout, the rhythms of the staff, even the where to plug my coffee pot in at is new. Everything felt like a mystery. But then the gestures of hospitality began to appear. A welcome sign the preschool kiddos made and hung outside of my office door. A member who showed up just to give me a tour of the building. A child who waved shyly as I was unpacking boxes of books in my office. Then beamed when I remembered her name. None of it flashy. None of it scripted. But all of it sacred.

It reminded me of what Jesus tells the seventy in Luke 10—“Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house.’” He sends them out not with power, but vulnerability. Not with certainty, but dependence. And as I’m settling into this role, I’ve realized that receiving hospitality is a spiritual practice all its own. It takes courage to show up empty-handed and open-hearted. It takes trust to let others care for you. And that’s not just true for pastors—it’s true for congregations, too.

So as we enter this new season together, I wonder: how might you practice receiving hospitality? It might look like showing up to a small group where you don’t know everyone yet. It might mean accepting help when you’re used to being the one who gives it. It might even mean being open to new ideas or ways of doing things—not because the old ways were wrong, but because God is still speaking, still moving, still drawing near. Jesus promises us that when we welcome one another with open hands and humble hearts, the kingdom of God comes close. Let’s receive it together.

Thanks be to God,

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.