Shake It Off
A sermon about Luke 10: 1 – 11, 16 – 20
The Advance Team of Grace
Jesus sends seventy disciples out ahead of him, like any grassroots movement with limited time. These aren’t military recruiters or political operatives—they’re emissaries of peace, healing, and good news. The goal? Prepare people for the arrival of the kingdom, not by force or fear, but by the aroma of mercy.
Jesus tells them: Travel light. Enter homes with humility. Don’t let ego lead. In other words, don’t be the kind of followers who block access to the message by delivering it with arrogance, judgment, or spiritual superiority. And yet, here we are today: flooded with stories of Christians whose cruelty or hypocrisy has closed ears and hardened hearts.
Every week, I see folks on social media saying all religion is bunk because of the actions of people with enough religion to hate, but not enough to love. They might love Jeus but they can’t stand his followers.
The Cod Liver Oil Conundrum
I once heard a story about a woman struggling to give her dog cod liver oil. Every day, she wrestled the bottle into the dog’s mouth, convinced she had to force the medicine in. One day, the bottle spilled, and the dog eagerly lapped it off the floor. Turns out, the dog loved the oil—just hated the delivery system.
How many people crave the healing Jesus offers but gag on the delivery of bigotry, legalism, or shame? The problem isn’t the gospel. It’s the way it gets packaged.
What Jesus Didn’t Say
Jesus didn’t commission these disciples to create a religious empire. He didn’t say, “Take the city for Christ.” He didn’t demand they legislate belief or dominate public life.
He said: bring peace. Offer healing. Proclaim that the kingdom of God has come near.
And when he said that, he didn’t mean some far-off spiritual abstraction. He meant that every time people treat one another with dignity, show mercy, seek fairness, and pursue joy—the reign of God breaks in.
Of course, Jesus knew not everyone would want this new way. Some preferred the status quo. Some profited from injustice. Some just didn’t want to be bothered.
Shake the Dust
Rejection, Jesus said, is inevitable. Even when you bring love, some will resist. Even when your heart is wide open, some will call you soft, naive, or—in today’s language—too woke.
Don’t fight them. Don’t internalize it. Don’t let their dust settle on your soul.
Kick it off your sandals. Shake it off.
Not in denial, but in defiance. Not in bitterness, but in boundary.
Dirt, Dust, and Old Goats
You may have heard about the farmer whose goat fell into a dry well. Unable to rescue the animal, the farmer decided to bury him. But as he shoveled dirt into the well, the goat shook it off and stomped it down. With every shovel, the goat rose. Eventually, he walked out of the well—not buried, but elevated.
Sometimes people try to bury you with insults, shame, or projections. When they do, shake it off. Let what was meant to harm you become the ground you rise upon.
You can do that because the Spirit of the Living God breathes in you. Not to erase hardship—but to fortify you. To remind you: You are not who they say you are. You are not defined by their approval. You are not obligated to carry their projections.
Today, you can declare:
I will not absorb your bitterness.
I will not replay your judgment.
I will not bend my soul into a shape that makes you comfortable.
Goat Heads and Gospel Grounding
Pastor Susie once told us about goat-head stickers—those nasty, thorny burrs that wedge into your shoes and slice your soles if you step barefoot.
Some dirt is like that. It clings. It pierces. It shows up years later when you thought you were free of it. Especially when it comes from someone who knew you, someone who touched your insecurity and called it your identity.
That’s why Jesus doesn’t just say, “Move on.” He says, Rub the dust off your feet. It takes effort.
The Slow Work of Spiritual Maturity
That’s where our spiritual disciplines matter. Prayer, meditation, worship, community—they form the inner resilience to see rejection without becoming reactive. They build a groundedness that lets you consider criticism without crumbling under it.
Spiritual maturity is knowing who you are. Knowing whose you are. And not needing everyone else to validate it.
Otherwise, you’ll live bruised by every sideways glance. You’ll start assuming bad intent, or worse—morphing yourself to chase applause.
Maturity doesn’t always come with age. I’ve known elders still trapped by people-pleasing. And I’ve seen teenagers already standing in sacred freedom.
It’s not about age. It’s about awareness.
Sacred Resilience
The invitation to spiritual rootedness. To keep on your assignment to bring peace and healing and good news. Not to convince anybody but to embody what you know is right.
You don’t need to yell louder.
You need to love deeper.
The Gospel Was Never Meant to Be a Cage
So if you’ve been dragging around some old verdict someone handed you—
Some spiritual scarlet letter, some tired theology that told you you’re too much or not enough—
Shake it off.
If you’ve been trying to earn love that was already yours from the beginning—
If you’ve mistaken people-pleasing for discipleship,
Or confused quiet suffering for righteousness—
Shake it off.
Shake off what shame tried to graft onto your soul.
Shake off the lie that you’ve got to hustle for your worth.
Shake off the ghosts of gatekeepers who crowned themselves with authority God never gave them.
And once you’ve shaken it off—don’t just stand there in the dust.
Step in.
Step into the wide-open space of grace.
Step into the kind of faith that doesn’t need fear to keep you faithful.
Step into your voice, your story, your sacred becoming.
Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s neat.
But because the gospel was never meant to be a cage.
It was meant to be a key.
And the Spirit—the One who dances where she will—
She’s already got the playlist going.
She’s already whispering:
“You are more than what you’ve survived.
You are more than what they said.
You are mine. Let’s dance.”
So church—
Shake it off.
And step in.