Why does it feel like obeying God is not only a daunting task, but something that must be done for God to be happy with us? Does it have to be that way? What if obedience is much more about freedom than it is about chains?

“He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics.” – Mark 6:6-9

I keep thinking about the disciples’ ministry of obedience as they journey with Jesus in the middle of Mark’s gospel. 

They go where they are sent with next to nothing in their possession but the power of Jesus’ compassion and the reliance upon open homes. They go with the ability to bless those in want and be released from feeling responsible for those who do not. Sent out two-by-two with authority over unclean spirits, the disciples call people to repent, cast out demons and heal the sick. 

This sounds like less of an evangelistic outreach program and more like blind warfare with open hands and empty pockets. Their only recourse to opposition was the dust they shook off their sandals — and this seems more therapeutic than threatening.

As the disciples go, they practice the presence and patterns of Jesus — inviting themselves over, as he often does, preaching kingdom allied repentance, passing on power to those who reach out for help and passing by those who push against hope. Jesus’ example in these encounters, whether he is welcomed by them or not, is gracing everyone with his presence; demonstrating to each person the holy hospitality of God. 

However he commissions the disciples for their journey, it doesn’t seem like Jesus is giving a locker room pep talk. His sending seems more like a parent’s prayer over their children at bedtime. It’s as if he is giving them the authority for a good night’s sleep and good dreams to encounter the divine… a call to be assured like Joseph and unafraid like Mary. Parents, who in their own moments of rest encountered the messengers of God before He was born to them. 

Because Jesus sends them, they are marching as victors against unclean spirits — as bringers of peace in the face of nightmares.

They are not sent to sleepwalk through the motions but to rest in the Spirit’s leading. The freedom to obey is not characterized by anxious daydreams but by the ability to rest while dreaming. There is no pressure here.

They can go in confidence because Jesus has sent them.

In this rest, the disciples will find the freedom to be themselves—becoming more like Christ. They aren’t clinging to their image-bearing selves as something to exploit over others but instead, take the form of Jesus by living in humility and invite themselves over to the place of the other. 

There is no mastery to this. The disciples follow the lead of the One who does not force or coerce. He does not violate or dictate. If the disciples look like they have marching feet, it’s only because Jesus has already washed them. Though the motivation of reciprocation is so often suggested to us, they don’t respond to the compassion of Jesus out of obligation. Or at least that’s not what Love requires of them, or us. That’s not what love looks like. They aren’t asked to hand over everything, they’re just told to not cling to anything. Those are not the same things. 

They go in obedience because that is where freedom takes them. 

I still don’t think I have grasped what this means for me in real life. The more I obey the words of Jesus, the more free I become. The more free I am, the less I cling to the chains that I’ve been loosed from. This is the lesson the Israelites are learning as they keep leaving Egypt in the Exodus. This is the obedience we keep learning as we leave our old nature. When we learn this, we live with greater freedom, not less.

The disciples are not sent as slaves. They are sent to be free. And the more free they become, they continue learning obedience. 

This is the kind of freedom that releases us from our own sufficiencies. 

Wrestling with whether or not we need bread, or bag or money on our belts is the great mystery — because we DO need those things! But, maybe not the way we’ve always thought we’ve needed them. Maybe there’s something about Jesus’ version of hospitality that removes us from the chains of what Stephen Jenkinson calls, our “addiction to competency.”

I think it takes a godlike humility to rely on others’ hospitality and no one is “greater” at this than Jesus. This is the amazing thing: We are not asked to do amazing things for God to change the world, we are invited to rest in the Father’s will by doing his will. This is what Jesus does and it is most clearly seen in his death on a cross. He invites himself into our death so that we can be raised to his life. Jesus does not invite himself over because he needs things from us. He came to serve us. Whether he is the servant on a cross or a servant in our house, his becoming less means our becoming greater. This is how he obeys and this is the way we freely live for others.

Becoming like the humble God in the power of Jesus is to cling to nothing else but the Spirit that guides you. If doors open, you walk through them. If doors close, you keep walking. If the world changes, you’ve partnered in the mystery — and if it seems as if it’s not changing, it might mean you’re not yet a witness to it. It might mean that instead of seeing men walking, you see trees walking (Mark 8:22-26). 

But is not that clarity much greater than blindness?

Is it possible that the traditions of man (Mark 7:8) and the “yeast of the pharisees” that Jesus warns his disciples against (Mark 8:14-21) is the idea that we need to do and be more for God to be the God we think God wants to be? I’m not advocating for laziness or slothfulness. I’m not suggesting that idleness is the way of the cross. I’m just wondering if the yeast of the pharisees is believing that we need all the loaves to do what we believe to be the Lord’s work when the sufficiency of the Bread of Life is inviting us to be satisfied. This is the satisfaction that recognizes he will feed the masses with whatever we’ve got, no matter how small.

“Changing the world” is not up to us and it’s not the purpose we are given. The goal of “doing amazing things for God” is a distraction, maybe even an oppression. For we witness the deliverance of God in our decrease. We rely on his strength and provision as we offer our weakness and our lack. Our responsibility is found in our willingness to be nothing, cling to nothing, and, as we go, point to the One who is nothing but good.  

He is the One who is never not compassionate and his compassion is always setting us free to obey. That is, in fact, what is best for us and in his goodness he only wants what’s best for us. 

Obedience is a release of chains. It’s a freedom to bear the Spirit’s fruit by being loosed from the desire to become a master of outcomes. It’s a bearing of all things temporary and an embrace of eternal blessing. It’s the power to resist the temptation to replace our fear of disorder with our attempts of fleshly order and instead make room for all things to be made new. 

It’s a freedom to wear one tunic instead of two and enter into the rest of Jesus in the home of another.  

Unhindered and under no pressure, we have been set free to obey.