Revisiting the person of peace: A response to A. Matthews

Interdependent messengers of profound peace

The Seventy(-two) go in weakness, reliant on God and others. This woefully small group must “implore” the Lord of the harvest to send more workers (10:2). Like lambs among wolves, they may face opposition, even violence (10:3). They travel light: Jesus prohibits purses, bags, or even sandals (possibly meaning a spare pair). The bag (pēra) was associated with wandering Cynic philosophers (Edwards, 2015: 306). Perhaps being mistaken for one would be an advantage: Cynic virtue preaching was mostly tolerated in the region (Betz, 1994: 456). But the Seventy(-two) preached a new kingdom, and this could get you into trouble (e.g., Matt 2:1–18). However, they are not “warriors [who] establish the kingdom of God by force. Rather, they go bringing greetings of peace” (Gadenz, 2018: 334). This is the root cause of their vulnerability. They proclaim a kingdom that challenges the coercive powers of this world but were unable to use coercive power themselves. This vulnerability required a radical openness to the grace of God and the protective hospitality of others.

But these messengers did carry one possession: profound peace. After the equipment ban, the possessive pronoun in verse 6 (“your peace”) is striking. In the Bible, peace is an expansive term. It implies divine activity to bring comprehensive well-being, “nearly synonymous with messianic salvation” (Danker et al., 2000: 287–88). Although the Seventy(-two) face dangers and troubles, they have tasted the peace with God that the Messiah brings, transforming every part of their lives.

This profound peace is an “entity that can be transmitted and possessed or returned” and the Seventy(-two) are “capable of extending the peace that is God’s to others” (Green, 1997: 740). The Seventy(-two) must greet every house by saying “Peace to this house” (10:5). More than a simple greeting, this is “a prayer-wish for the house to enjoy the blessing of peace from God” (Carroll, 2012: 504). Luke specially highlights that this peace seems to have its own agency: if the people are not ready for messianic peace, their peace returns to them, and the blessing is ineffective (10:6). ⁵ Later, the Seventy(-two) are commanded to heal, demonstrating that the blessing was not empty words: peace and healing were closely associated in Jewish and early Christian thought (Ridgway, 1999: 143). The healings also demonstrate physically what they now proclaim verbally: the kingdom has come near (cf. Luke 7:21–23).

So, this is the first impact of Jesus’ words. It formed a community of Seventy(-two) disciples, to go forth in weakness, depending on God and others. But though their pockets are empty, they bring profound peace. They bestow this freely, with miracles in attendance, and explain that the kingdom has come near.

Interdependent children of hospitable peace

We turn now to the second character in this encounter: the “child of peace.”

This “child of” construction is “a striking Hebraism, meaning one whose character is shaped by peace, as one is shaped by father and family” (Edwards, 2015: 307). A similar idiom is used for James and John, the “sons of thunder,” presumably to indicate a fiery temperament (Mark 3:17). The child of peace is not merely a gentle person, but someone “open to or ready for the salvation that is now coming into the world” (Nolland, 2008: 552). There may be a future aspect here: “child of” language sometimes denotes what people will become (Marshall, 1978: 420). Therefore, the child of peace may not initially be a follower of the Messiah, but quickly becomes one. They receive much from the messengers: although the child of peace is singular, their whole household receives corporate blessing (10:5). The community’s physical vulnerabilities are met through healing; their eschatological vulnerability is met through the kingdom message (10:14).

But as well as receiving, these welcoming homes also give generous hospitality. Jesus’ words greatly dignify the children of peace: he previously described his disciples as workers in the Lord’s harvest field. Now, hospitality is called the workers’ wages (10:7). By feeding the workers, these receptive homes become agents of the Lord of the harvest himself. In a further dignifying move, the receptive homes are characterized by peace, just as the gospel messengers are. We should note that the “child of peace” idiom does not carry demeaning overtones. Some sectors of Christian mission have shamefully used child language to denigrate others. For example, early 20th century British missiologists spoke of the “civilising work of missions among the child-races of the Empire” (Ogilvie, 1924: 58). But Luke 10 uses child language in an honoring way. These children of peace are not infantile subordinates to a missionary “adult”. Rather, the child idiom denotes how much these dignified actors have been shaped by divine peace.

Therefore, I describe the hosts and guests as interdependent. Both are characterized by peace. Both have needs. But both also meet each other’s needs: whether needs for shelter, or salvation. As these two groups join the dance of interdependency, food is shared, salvation is announced, and the hurting made whole by the Messiah’s peaceful power. The kingdom truly has come near.

The sending of the Seventy(-two) in written form

We have investigated how Jesus’ discourse formed the Seventy(-two) for mission, and how the first generations of Jesus-followers applied it to their own work, probably through oral tradition. Now we ask how Luke’s written account formed communities for mission.

Luke probably wrote his gospel in the second half of the 1st century to a mixed group of Jews and Gentiles in an Eastern Mediterranean city (Moxnes, 1994: 387). Luke emphasizes that Jesus called “Seventy(-two) others” (Luke 10:1), beyond the original Twelve. Perhaps Jesus chose the number symbolically to prefigure the Gospel’s worldwide reach: while uncertainty remains whether Luke originally wrote 70 or 72, both numbers were used symbolically to represent all the nations of the earth. ⁷ Surely this encouraged Luke’s readers: mission is not restricted to the Twelve, or even to Jews. They too could serve the Lord of the harvest.

There is no indication that Luke’s audience took this passage as a prescriptive methodology to be scrupulously applied. But Marshall (1978: 351) is likely correct that “the basic principles . . . were regarded as of lasting value for the church.” ⁸ The early church quoted or alluded to Luke 10 frequently, for a range of purposes. In the 2nd century, Tertullian was familiar with the blessing of peace (Luke 10:5) and commends its use, though more to bless fellow believers than in evangelism (Evans, 1953: 36–37).

The Apostolic Didascalia (probably 3rd century) also references Luke 10: “They who enter a house and say, “peace be in this house” both are proclaimers of peace and do bring peace. If then thou preach peace to others, still more does it behove thee to have peace with thy brethren” (Connolly, 1929: 55). Although the focus is on peace within the church, the Didascalia assumes the audience also “preach peace to others,” possibly even using the blessing of peace from Luke 10.

So, in summary: Jesus’ sending speeches during his earthly career continued to form interdependent messengers of profound peace in the early church, who sometimes encountered children of peace, such as Cornelius. There are hints, even into the 3rd century, that elements of this paradigm continued, even if the specific instructions to the Seventy(-two) were discontinued.

Becoming interdependent messengers in the 21st century

Interdependency does not come naturally to many Christians. For Koyama (1979: 52–53), “Christianity has become a one-way traffic religion.” Because a true missional reading should critically examine ourselves (Hunsberger, 2011: 316) I must acknowledge that my own tradition of anglophone evangelicalism has been especially guilty of one-way traffic. Charles and Rah would agree: for them, the “Western mission model” frequently casts others as “heathens” whose main role “is to simply receive the message and the charity of their benevolent, generous, and well-educated missionaries” (2019: 33).

Charles and Rah draw out historical threads that lead to this one-way traffic Christianity. The conversion of Emperor Constantine was a crucial step. Dazzled by power and wealth, “the Christian imagination shifted from a mindset of suffering to a mindset of exceptionalism and triumphalism” (2019: 72). This mindset of exceptionalism rears its head throughout subsequent Western history (and in other situations too; but my task here is to evaluate my own background). This mindset tempts us to think in hard dichotomies: we and they. We are powerful and capable. They are inferior and needy. We may dominate them; we may pity them. But we do not learn from them or receive from them. Crusaders, intoxicated by exceptionalism, not only massacred non-Christians but also displaced non-Latin clergy from Jerusalem (Irvin and Sunquist, 2001: 398). The modern missionary movement came not to exterminate, but to evangelize and educate. But we still discern a mindset of exceptionalism. Many missionaries in the late 19th century decided that “an apprenticeship of several decades under the European master would be necessary” for African churches (Shaw and Gitau, 2020: 275). Today, the language of “church partnership” is common. Sometimes, these partnerships are shining examples of interdependency. But sometimes they are partnerships in name only: one church provides all the resources, and all the control. Such partnerships make “all the mistakes of our colonial past once again” (Dyer, 2017: 45).

In these three examples, the mindset of exceptionalism acts like an ocean current, dragging the Western church into unhealthy forms of mission. Of course, the situations are complex, and exceptionalism is not the only factor. Also, many Christians successfully swim against it. But the powerful current still tugs at all those in the Western missionary movement. I see it in my own heart, and in my instinctive suspicion of theology or practice different from my own.

In recent years, a fruitful conversation has asked how the church can regain a “two-way traffic” (or to use Bosch’s phrase, “vulnerable”) posture (Hof, 2016: 176–218). ⁹ I believe that Luke 10 contributes much to this conversation. As noted above, both the Seventy(-two) and the children of peace are vulnerable. But both parties are also agents of the Lord of the harvest. Luke 10, therefore, takes a wrecking ball to the mindset of exceptionalism. “[T]he stereotypical framework of ‘givers’ and ‘receivers’ is broken. By contrast, both [the Seventy(-two)] and their hosts are given the opportunity to find their place in God’s mission” (Paas, 2019: 58).

Within this delightful interdependency, Luke 10 still reserves a special place for proclamation. The Seventy(-two) have received messianic salvation and must preach it to others. But surely to say that one group possesses salvation must inevitably breed toxic exceptionalism? Not necessarily, says Newbigin. God’s salvation never comes “direct from above, like a shaft of light through the roof.” The gospel message must be passed from one person to another, and this is a beautiful thing. It “binds each to the other” in common humanity (1978: 78).

So, in practice, there is still a need for messengers of peace to enter every situation that has not heard the kingdom announcement. But the gospel messenger should tread lightly. They must proclaim and teach—this is the messenger’s work. But they also listen to and learn from their host community, and their reflections on the gospel. The messengers will serve in love, but also be served in humility. Together, the messenger of peace and the children of peace demonstrate kingdom life, “characterized by mutuality, reciprocity, and interdependence . . . a denial of the myth that we can live self-sufficiently” (Manchala, 2012: 161).

The person of peace strategy

Finally, we will consider the specific application of Luke 10 in the contemporary Person of Peace (PoP) strategy. While some 19th-century thinkers saw Luke 10 as programmatic, (e.g. W [sic], 1854: 285) PoP methodology in its current form was codified by Thomas Wolf (1969). A popular articulation defines a person of peace as “a lost person who accepts you and your gospel message. He becomes a channel of evangelism to his network of relationships (family, friends, neighbors, co-workers). He may not accept your message immediately, but he does not reject it and is open to learning more and more. Within a reasonable time period, he does believe” (Smith and Kai, 2011: 64).

In the 1990s, lay Bhojpuri church-planters used this strategy extensively. David Garrison described this work in his influential booklet (and later book) Church Planting Movements. In part due to Garrison’s influence, the PoP method is now widely used by Church Planting Movement (CPM) practitioners, who seek “a rapid multiplication of indigenous churches planting churches that sweeps through a people group or population segment” (Garrison, 2004: 21).

How do we assess this strategy? Matthews (2019: 192) contends that the Luke 10 instructions were only for the Seventy(-two): if they were eternally normative, then why is the rest of the New Testament silent about people of peace, and evangelism in Acts so different from the village preaching of Luke 10 (194)? I appreciate Matthews’s critique and agree that the early church did not adopt Luke 10 as an inflexible methodology. However, Matson’s work discussed in the previous section convinces me that the early church did indeed see themselves as finding children of peace (even if they did not use the term), in continuity with the Seventy(-two). They found these people in a wide range of settings: after miracles (Acts 10; 16:25–34); through intentional visits to places of prayer (Acts 16:13); through public preaching at synagogues (Acts 18:4–8). The early church did not follow the Seventy(-two)’s pattern of moving systematically, village by village. Nor did they focus solely on households (Acts 8:26–40). But it does appear that they almost instinctively sought out responsive people, who would join the movement together with their household. I therefore propose a middle path: “finding the person of peace” should not be elevated as the single most important missionary task. But the general principle of finding receptive people and households does chime with New Testament missional practice and remains valid today.

However, I do have some concerns about the PoP strategy as currently practiced, and suggestions for improvement.