Who could have imagined that something which began
within such seeming limitations would sweep around the globe,
divert the course of human history,
and become an essential part of the language,
art and culture of countries not yet born.

If Jesus had painted a picture of where it was all heading
and had sent the apostles into "all the world" on this first journey,
I think they would have been overwhelmed.

Perhaps they would have thought him mad.
Perhaps they would have been too aware of their own shortcomings,
have been discouraged, and simply quit right then.

But whatever their reaction might have been,
it is fair to say that the Apostles were not ready for the lofty vision of all the world ­
they were not ready for such a lengthy journey.

So while Jesus tells them there's a harvest to be gathered,
he also defines the edges of this first field very carefully.

In the field outside my house, a new crop appeared this spring:
a series of long slender stems scattered around the property.
At the end of these stalks is neither corn nor grain
but rather wooden rectangular boxes ­ birdhouses.

The hope is for a harvest of bluebirds.
But, for the moment, we have more swallows than anything else.

I don't what breed of swallows these are.
But the adults fly with speed and grace, and if is not these exact swallows,
it is their cousins who make one of the longest flight of any birds.
If you put the Fall and Spring migration together
youšll have almost enough miles to circle the globe.

But the first evidence of new life in the bird boxes are the swallow's eggs.
They are not going anywhere. Days pass and the eggs hatch,
and in response to the constant care of feeding by the adults, the fledglings grow.
Feathers appear, and finally, it will be time for that first flight.

That first journey is likely not to be to South America, but rather to the nearest tree.
That first flight of baby birds is likely to include falling, bumping into things,
and if they are lucky, not getting eaten alive.

Our field has no contentious Samaritans or hostile Gentiles,
but our yard has two cats who are less likely to listen
to the Good News according to birdies
than they are to consume the unprepared messenger.

One can see why Jesus didn't send the disciples to South America on their first journey.
They had not yet experienced Pentecost. They did not yet have the full use of their wings.

Even Samaria and the provinces of the Gentiles were too far
and too risky for fledgling Apostles - for now.

Jesus needed others to fulfill the ministry he envisioned.
He called these twelve. He fed them with the word of God.
He taught them day after day. And then he sent them out.

Jesus sent them soaring, carrying his own authority. He had them travel light.
He had them travel to places where the strength they already had was likely to be sufficient.

On this first solo journey they stuck to house of Israel
like barn swallows nesting under the eaves of a family home.
The Apostles might not be received everywhere with open arms on this first time out,
but they weren't likely to pounced upon in a way that would end
their ministry before it really took off.

We know a good piece of the rest of the story.
We know that the apostles grew in strength, courage and ability.
We know that sometimes they fell, or bumped into things:
just think of the stories we read in Holy Week.

But we also know that the Apostles, and their successors through the ages,
have proclaimed the Good News in an ever widening range.
Even to the ends of the earth. Even to South America.

The apostles were ordinary people.
They came from different lines of work and different political viewpoints.
But when they allowed themselves to be caught up in the work of God,
both they and the world began a journey which transformed everything.

You and I are ordinary people. God is calling us too.
The harvest is still plentiful. Laborers are still needed.
And the strength and knowledge we have right now, is enough to start.

If we want to be drawn into the ministry which Jesus began, there is a place for us.
God has a way of whispering the flight plan into our hearts.
Listen.

Softer than the fluttering of passing wings,
somewhere within you, the Word of God is moving.
Listen.

I do not know to what God may be calling you.
Maybe you are supposed to fly to South America.
Or maybe your first work of healing is to take place inside your own skin,
so that a place can be prepared in which the Lord can dwell.
Whatever the work is, you are ready to begin, now.

God does not send us out to do the impossible knowing that we will fail.
The Lord takes no delight in broken wings.

God may call us to things that seem improbable from where we stand,
but if we will consent to fly, our sense of the possible will be forever changed .
His eye is on the sparrow.
His gaze is on you and me.

We have been given wings.
We are being called.
We are leaning forward into the wind.
And all it takes to soar is one simple, terrifying, breaktaking leap.