My Friend Ray
The laborers are few
For the longest time I treated evangelization like A side project, something to do when i don’t feel inspired. Like A checklist of prerequisites.
?Waiting for the right words to come.
? When the timing is perfect.
? When my theology is tightened down.
? When the conditions feel right.
? When I'm not too tired.
? When the person seems receptive.
I was adding conditional terms that may apply to the gospels like they came as a disclosure.
This Sunday's gospel shows Jesus seeing the crowds—not from A distance, not with A kind sentiment, but truly suffering with them.
The ancient Greek word “splagchnizomai” is defined as compassion. It means to suffer together/with; to be moved to one's core. When something towards another person is so profound that we take on their suffering as our own.
Jesus sees the people harassed, helpless, like sheep scattered in the dark with no one guiding them, and he doesn't just feel bad about it. He suffers it.
Then he looks at his disciples and says something we've diluted into nothing:
"The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore, ask the lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest."
Do you hear the urgency?
Jesus didn't say:
Not when everything is in place.
Not pray about whether you might consider going.
Not if you feel called, maybe explore it.
The harvest is now.
And there aren't enough people willing to cut it.
The comfortable excuse
Here's where the conviction hits me: I had been building this narrative that before I could evangelize authentically, I need to be settled. Spiritually mature. Theologically certain. Morally upright. I need to have my own house in order. All of those are important, but its not authentic when it’s A lie I was telling myself.
Because what I really meant was:
I don't want to be rejected.
I don't want to look foolish.
I don't want to impose.
I want to be liked.
So I created A whole delusional theology around respecting people's autonomy and not being pushy and taking the holy spirits work out of the equation by compromising the transformative message the gospels deliver each of us.
I was afraid, and through my fear it became easy to become “intentionally ignorant” in avoiding the truth to preserve comfort.
But jesus isn't asking about comfort. He's asking for willingness.
What willingness costs
When jesus sends out the twelve, he sends them defenseless. No staff for protection. No extra clothes. No backup plan. No security. They're supposed to depend on the hospitality of strangers for food and shelter. To trust that someone will open A door and take them in. In today's time, that's almost uncomprehensible.
That's not missionary strategy. That's radical vulnerability
And it's designed to be.
Because you cannot evangelize from A position of power.
We cannot witness to Christ's incarnational love while protecting ourselves, managing our image, keeping people at A distance until we've vetted them properly.
The harvest doesn't wait for our readiness. The villages don't get another chance because you need to pray about it more. The people scattered without A shepherd don't become less lost because you're being cautious.
"Therefore ask the lord to send laborers."
Jesus isn’t asking you to think about it. He's not asking for your prayer group's discernment.
He's calling you to go!
The hard part
If you're thinking someone else will handle it—a priest maybe, or a missionary, A professional evangelist—you've already disqualified yourself. Because the harvest waits for no one's readiness and calls for willingness.
Who willingly walks into a neighborhood they don't know and knocks on doors.
Who willingly sits with tax collectors and sinners and doesn’t worry about reputation.
Who willingly speaks the gospel to the person in the grocery store even if it's awkward.
Who willingly promotes their faith.
It waits for people willing to be uprooted by its opportunity, but opportunity doesn’t wait forever. So whether we are ready or not, thinking about readiness isn’t providing an answer.
And waiting doesn't provide preparation.
When the harvest is ready, the bounty demands action to reap the bounty before it spoils.