Names Written In Heaven

Jesus has just turned his face towards Jerusalem in Luke’s Gospel account. He does not have much time left in his earthly ministry. Knowing this, he sends forth seventy followers, saying, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” Jesus’ suggested packing list consists of nothing but his blessing of peace and his instructions to ignore those whom they meet on the road. Instead he prompts his followers to focus on meeting people where they are, where they live. They are to extend peace and to heal the sick in their homes.

The instructions for following Jesus are radical. Go forth without a coat, extra clothes, or spare sandals. Take no supplies for the journey and instead rely upon Jesus. I am not good at this. When I travel I want supplies for every potential scenario I might encounter. Yet, Jesus requires that in lieu of a material crutch we rely instead on the kindness of others and upon his peaceful presence.
Today’s gospel reading reveals that the seventy have safety returned. Not only this, but they have succeeded. They have relied solely on the power of their Savior. As they return they excitedly proclaim what they have done, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!” These followers have put their trust in God.

We too are travelers on a different journey, but still sent by Christ into the world to provide his healing and his peaceful presence to those whom we meet. Yet, in this context, this public service of healing and Eucharist, we come to Christ for refreshment, healing, and the spiritual food of Christ’s Body and Blood. As I hurry around preparing for this service I sometimes forget that this is a time not just for you to be refreshed, healed, and fed, but also for me to experience Christ’s peaceful presence in this place.

Over the weekend a seminary classmate and one of my best friends Clay Towles committed suicide. As I continue to experience the pain of this loss I swing from denial to guilt to rage and I land in heartbrokenness. I long for God’s healing to wash over me. I yearn for Christ’s compassion. I ache for the soul of my friend.

While I am certain that Christ comforts all of us who come to him, Jesus urges us to look beyond earthly healing to see the ultimate aim of our lives. “Nevertheless do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” Christ writes our names in heaven as he remembers us who follow him.

Whenever we gather together we remember Christ, putting together the body of Christ. Yet when we gather as the Body of Christ we not only recall Jesus, but we also draw together all His followers across time and space: our loved ones who have died, the saints of ages past, the saints living on the farthest shores and the saints who have yet to come. My friend Clay loved the Eucharist. He was almost always in chapel. And I believe that he now is even closer to God’s banquet table. We may struggle to feel God’s healing in this moment or even in this lifetime, but Christ remembers us in heaven and asks that we too might remember him as we gather together around his table together with all past, present, and yet to come.