“Understand me, I’m sending you out like sheep in the midst of wolves; so, you will have to be as cunning as snakes and harmless as doves” (Matthew 10.16).
It may be a false one, but I have a memory of seeing the teaser posters for the film Ghostbusters that showed only the no-ghosts symbol on a black background and the words, in white font, Coming to Save the World This Summer. Back in those pre-internet days, there was no way a kid from Memphis had any means to find out just what was coming. Or that it would be a movie I’d watch more than a dozen times before that decade ended.
Ghostbusters was the second-highest grossing film of 1984. And, it was inescapable. It’s theme song, sung by Ray Parker, Jr. dominated the radio and you were hard-pressed to find anyone who didn’t know who they were gonna call.
But it’s that original tagline—the mysterious promise that whoever was behind this symbol was going to be responsible for saving the world—I’ve thought about the most lately. It made you curious. You had to wait, to wonder, and to be surprised by a movie that starts with such low stakes—out-of-work university employees trying to find a steady job—but whose climax holds the fate of our world in the hands of four guys no one would have picked for the responsibility.
The same could be said of the early followers of Jesus. None of them were looking for steady work, in fact the majority already had a life that paid the bills and kept the family dry. But none of these people—men or women—were who anyone would have chosen to help save the world. They were, perhaps like the Ghostbusters, the last people you’d expect, or choose.
Over their heads, the Ghostbusters—Peter, Egon, Ray, and Winston—find themselves tasked far beyond what they ever imagined and doing the most absurd (and dangerous) thing to save the world. And, when you think about it, that’s what Christians have been called to do for centuries—to do something as absurd as loving those you encounter, to treat all of Creation as beloved of God, to sit somewhere other than at the head of the table.
Neither you or I will likely save the world this summer, at least not all by ourselves. But who knows what actions or words that we may do or say will have an impact on the lives we encounter. There’s no way to predict what might make a difference through the spontaneous, loving responses we give to the world around us. Particularly when we dare to live as if our small contributions can make such a difference in the lives of so many.
Jesus, may I live courageously today to love as you loved; so the world may be changed.