The Bad News Good News (Matthew 10:16-42)

Sermon: The Bad News Good News

March 15, 2026

Matthew 10:16-42

By: John Gribas

When Pastor Mike initially asked if I would be open to preparing a message for today, he seemed a little hesitant. Apparently, hesitant about this particular section of Matthew he would be asking me to explore. 

I thought that hesitation was a little odd, to be honest. I mean…it’s scripture. And it’s a very familiar part of New Testament scripture. Not some weird Old Testament passage, sharing about God drowning almost all of humanity, or seemingly directing his chosen people to engage in child sacrifice or genocide, or a talking donkey, or a guy getting swallowed by a big fish, or mind-numbing genealogies, or bizarre purity rules and rituals. 

No, this was straightforward New Testament stuff. And not some baffling cosmic fantasy epic scene from the Book of Revelation. This was gospel material. Matthew’s gospel.

No problem, Mike. Piece of cake.

But after I read it and spent a bit of time with it, I started to see why this passage—Matthew 10:16-42—could be a little tricky.

“Tricky, how?” you might ask. Well, I’d say tricky because something I know about preaching—something I recall Mike really emphasizing himself when I was part of his preaching class—is that, whatever you do in a sermon message, whatever approach you take—it is essential that you find a way to share “good news.” That’s the point.

“Gospel” means “good news.” So sharing on this particular section from Matthew’s gospel should automatically mean I am sharing some good news, right?

Last week, Marlys did such a wonderful job of sharing good news. And the scripture she drew from comes right before the scripture for today. Jesus is sending the twelve to cast out unclean spirits and heal every kind of disease and sickness. And Marlys reminded us all that we, like these disciples, can consider our calling and play our part in ministering to a hurting world. To follow in the footsteps of the good shepherd who takes good care of the sheep. That sounds like good news to me.

Also, if we look back to the portion of Matthew 10 from last week, we can see that, in sending out the twelve, Jesus offers quite a bit of reassurance.

He tells them they are to focus on those who are familiar. Fellow Israelites. No need to get uncomfortable by engaging Samaritans or Gentiles.

He tells them they get to do a lot of awesome things. Share the good news. Heal sick people. Even raise the dead!

He tells them they don’t have to worry about payment or budgets or schedules. They can pack very light. People will take care of them. And if they meet anyone who isn’t keen on offering hospitality…no problem. No need to haggle or debate. Just move on to someone else who is keen.

For the twelve being sent out to do something likely a bit out of their comfort zone, and for us here today maybe feeling called to do likewise as Jesus followers, that is a lot of good news.

But there is a definite “turn” after that, starting in verse 16. Suddenly, it stops sounding much like good news. For example, Jesus says…

You are sheep, and there are going to be wolves.

Get ready for some flogging.

You will have audience with rulers and authorities, though you will be anything but the invited guest of honor.

Your own dear friends and family will hate you and betray you.

They call me “devil.” As my student, don’t expect anything different.

If you thought I came to bring peace, think again.

If you want to be considered worthy, love me more than father, mother, brother, sister. And this work comes at a cost. A cross. Your cross. Your very life.

I don’t know about you, but, to me, this all sounds like bad news. Very, very bad news.

And I understand why Mike was hesitant.

But don’t worry. Despite the promise of wolves and flogging and betrayal, there is actually good news here. More than first meets the eye. I guess we could call it the “bad news good news.” 

To begin, we need to remember that, in this passage, Jesus was talking to a specific group of individuals in a particular place and time. This group was “the twelve.” Those we know as apostles. The listing and naming of the individual members of this group to start Matthew 10 emphasizes who the chapter is about. Jesus summoned these twelve individual human beings. This message is to them in preparation of their being sent out. If the message includes some bad news…well…it is their bad news.

That might sound rather selfish. I don’t mean it to be. I’m not suggesting that we—we who are not apostles—should read this and think, “Wow. Those guys had it tough. That was some really bad news. Glad that wasn’t me.”

What I am suggesting is that, whether it is bad news or good news, we need to be careful not to just read scripture, note what Jesus said to specific people in a specific situation and place and time, and assume Jesus is saying that same thing to us today, in our specific situation and place and time.

One reason it doesn’t make sense to do this is because Jesus didn’t do it in his own time. That is, he didn’t go around making statements to people with the assumption that what he was saying had some kind of universal application to everyone. Not even to everyone who considered themselves his follower.

For example, consider the gospel story of the man in the land of the Gerasines who was filled with many demons—a “legion” in fact. Jesus cast out those demons, sending them into a heard of pigs. The healed man begged to be allowed to go along with Jesus as part of his ministry. But Jesus’ message and mission for this man was, “Go home and tell the people there how much God has done for you.”

No wolves. No flogging. Just home and a chance to share an unbelievable blessing.

But Jesus’ calling and sending is certainly not always warm and fuzzy, and it was not only the twelve whose calling included some “bad news.” A bit later in Matthew, in chapter 19, a very rich young man engaged with Jesus, seemingly interested in learning more about what it meant to follow. Jesus didn’t promise wolves or flogging. But he also didn’t say, “Go home and share how you have been blessed.” 

Nope. He said, “Sell everything you have and give it to the poor. Then come follow me.”

I can’t help but wonder if that rich young man would have preferred a flogging.

When Jesus calls and sends, he calls and sends individuals. He calls and sends them at particular times and in particular ways…because he knows them. Because he knows us. He knows you! That is the point. And that is reflected here in Matthew 10. And that, I am suggesting, is good news.

I noticed something really strange here in Matthew 10. And I think this strange thing actually reinforces the point I am making—the idea that when Jesus calls and sends, he does so from a place of deep knowing and understanding. Here is the start of today’s passage:

“See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Beware of them, for they will hand you over to councils and flog you in their synagogues; and you will be dragged before governors and kings because of me.”

So…wolves, flogging, being dragged before authorities. Bad news.

But then Jesus shares something. It appears to be a kind of reassurance. A consoling message to ease their fears. Jesus says, “Do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say; for what you are to say will be given to you at that time; for it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.”

Okay, I’m a communication professor. I’ve taught my share of public speaking classes. I know that speech anxiety is a real thing. But if I were one of those disciples, I think what I would have wanted to hear for consolation is something like, “Yes, there will be wolves, but I’ll make sure they are toothless,” or, “You will be flogged, but don’t worry. It won’t hurt.”

Come on, does Jesus really think these disciples are concerned about what they are going to say more than being flogged and dragged unceremoniously in front of a group of angry ruler-wolves?

Yes. He does. And he’s right. Because he knows. 

He knows these men. He called them. These were fishermen. They knew the daily pain of hard, back-breaking work. Their hands that bore a thousand scars from the rope and netting that cut into their flesh as they dragged fish in were simply the price of making a living. They were common folk. Poor. Laborers. Lower class. Being powerless and even abused by those privileged and in authority was an unchangeable reality.

What they were not is eloquent. They were not orators. I think it makes all the sense in the world that their top-of-the-list worry was, “What will I say?”

And Jesus knew, and he offered them some peace. Some “good news.” 

“Don’t worry,” Jesus told them. “The Holy Spirit will be with you and will show you what to say.”

In fact, Jesus actually offered them quite a bit more bad news good news.

He told them that it is possible to be wise like serpents and still remain innocent like doves. That embracing the vulnerability of the call to love did not mean they had to throw out critical thinking or common sense.

He told them that their choice to follow may cause others, even their dearest friends and family, to react in surprising ways. Sometimes very surprising. As hard as that might be, they were not responsible for those reactions. It was not their job to find some kind of ministry “success” with all and that all would understand and appreciate but, instead, to persevere and endure. To keep loving. And sometimes loving means knowing when it is time to move on. And it is okay to do that—to move on to a new opportunity for ministering.

He told them that, as overwhelming and dangerous as the lies and deception and cover-ups of this world seem, the truth of the way of love will prevail. So they should just continue to proclaim that truth. And in that proclaiming, they need to remember their ultimate value to their creator. 

He told them to keep their eyes on him, their teacher. Their mentor and model and master. It is tempting to look at broader circumstances—others’ negative reactions, the threat of opposition or penalty, even persecution—and to measure and question the rightness of our efforts in light of these circumstances. 

But Jesus seems to be saying, “Look to me. Note the circumstances stemming from my work and ministry. Sadly, this is what happens sometimes when the way of love clashes with brokenness in the world. The rightness of your efforts will be revealed when the love you share is then shared with another—when what you do leads to a cup of water being shared with a little one who needs it.”

I have suggested to you that we should not read this scripture passage and assume that what Jesus said to the twelve is what he is saying to us here, now, and today. And that is true.

But…I do think there are still valuable things we can take away from this passage. Perhaps the most important one is this: Listen for the voice of Christ. Listen for your calling and sending. If and when you are called, trust that it will come from a deep understanding of who you are. 

It is quite possible that, somewhere along the way, the calling will come with some bad news. Your efforts aren’t appreciated as you would have liked. Those who were with you at the beginning have lost heart or lost interest. It seems to be requiring more time and effort and giving than you first expected. The impact you hoped for…you are just not seeing it. Maybe the pastor who inspired you and supported you and helped equip you for this calling is suddenly called elsewhere to inspire and support and equip others.

If along the way your calling seems to come with a bit of bad news, remember Matthew 10 and keep listening. I think the voice of Christ will also offer the reassurance and consolation you need.

And that, dear friends, is good news.

Amen.