Our Name are Written in Heaven

Grace and peace to you all in the name of Jesus Christ. Today, we step into a powerful passage—Luke 10:1–11—a text that offers us more than a mission strategy. It is a window into the spiritual authority, urgency, and joy that characterize the life of those who are sent by Christ.
 
In 1729 at Oxford, John and, shortly after, Charles Wesley formed a prayer-and-study group known as the “Holy Club”. It began simply—a few students committed to reading Scripture, praying diligently, fasting, and caring for the poor and imprisoned. Though initially mocked— “the Methodists” became a label of derision—their disciplined, Christ‑centered life didn’t stay hidden. Instead, it drew attention and later inspired a movement that transformed the church and society. This collaboration between the Wesley brothers embodies key spiritual truths. They began "two by two," mirroring Jesus’ sending of the seventy‑two. In mission, we’re not lone heroes—we are companions. Their habits of reading, prayer, fasting, and service were not just piety—they were kingdom rhythms that shaped everything. Though mocked, they persevered, and their disciplined witness birthed a revival that reformed individuals and nations.
 
The passage begins with an important detail: “The Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them on ahead of him, two by two…” This is not a mission of superstars. Jesus does not send the elite; He sends ordinary disciples. This is the same Jesus who walked the dusty roads, who heals and forgives, who knows us by name—and He sends us. You and I are part of that same line. God has always worked with and through people—never out of necessity, but out of grace. And He never sends us alone. The “two by two” reminds us: We are companions on this journey, We are accountable to each other, We are supported by community.
 
Jesus looks at the world and sees it with the eyes of harvest. Where others see chaos, He sees opportunity. Where others see sin, He sees people in need of the Gospel. He doesn't tell them, “Go solve everything,” but “Pray to the Lord of the harvest.” This is spiritual work—harvest that is gathered through prayer before action. In Wesleyan theology, we speak of prevenient grace—God at work before we arrive. Prayer aligns us not just with the task, but with the timing of God.
 
Jesus doesn't sugarcoat the mission: "I am sending you out like lambs among wolves." There’s no false promise of ease. Yet, paradoxically, the disciples carry peace, not swords. “Peace to this house.” We go not in fear, but in peace. We go not to argue, but to bless. We go not to dominate, but to witness. Our spiritual authority is not in coercion but in communion—offering the peace of Christ and trusting that where it is welcomed, the Kingdom draws near. If they accept you, stay. If they reject you, shake the dust off your feet. But either way, say this:
 
“The Kingdom of God has come near.” This is crucial: The Kingdom comes whether people respond the way we hope. We are not defined by results. We are called to faithfulness, not success.
 
This is a deeply spiritual perspective. The Kingdom is not a project; it is the in-breaking presence of God. While our passage today ends at verse 11, in verse 20, Jesus tells the disciples: “Do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” That is the heart of it: The deepest joy is not what we do for God, but what He has done in us. Not the miracles, but the relationship. Not the power, but the belonging.
 
During my time serving as a pastor in Mexicanos City, San Salvador, I met a humble family that made a lasting impact on our church. They were very poor—a single household with at least five children, ranging in age from 2 to 11 years old. Every Sunday morning, without fail, those little ones would arrive for Bible School. Their clothes were worn, and their shoes were often mismatched or broken—but their faces glowed with joy and eagerness to hear the Word of God. One Sunday, after seeing them sit so attentively and leave quietly, one of the parents in our congregation said something that would change everything: “What if we don’t just teach them the Bible… what if we share a meal too?”. That simple question became a holy invitation. Soon, every Sunday morning, before Bible School began, we started offering breakfast—not just to those children, but to any who came hungry from the surrounding community. And here’s the beautiful part: the idea didn’t come from abundance, but from compassion. Many of our own families had little to spare—but one by one, people began bringing a little rice, some beans, tortillas, eggs. Somehow, there was always enough. This breakfast ministry lasted over two years, and it became a sacred time. What started as food became fellowship. People who had never spoken before—rich and poor, churched and unchurched—began to see each other as brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters, this text invites us to reframe how we think about mission, ministry, and discipleship. You are sent ahead—wherever you live, work, or serve. You carry peace, not anxiety. You proclaim a Kingdom, not an opinion. You go with joy, because your name is known in heaven. Let us be that church—one that walks boldly into a world of wolves as lambs, because the Lamb of God walks with us. Amen.