Humble Instruments in the Hands of a Miraculous God – Heal the Sick, Raise the Dead - A Matthew 10:8 Reflection

It’s one of those verses that, if you scan it, might make you do a double-take, perhaps even spill your morning coffee. "Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out demons. Freely ye have received; freely give." Now, if you’re anything like me – a seasoned Christian, perhaps with a few miles on the odometer, certainly enough to remember rotary phones – that "raise the dead" bit still packs a punch. It's not exactly on the typical Sunday morning bulletin alongside "bake sale" or "potluck sign-up."

Jesus, in His infinite wisdom and boundless power, was sending out His twelve disciples on a mission trip unlike any other. This wasn't a cozy retreat to learn about spiritual growth; this was a frontline deployment, a divine commando raid on the forces of darkness and human suffering. And the marching orders? Well, they were nothing short of astonishing. They weren’t just told to hand out pamphlets or sing a few hymns. They were commanded to do things that, frankly, sound like superhero feats.

The big questions that naturally bubble up are: What did this look like for them on the ground? How in the world did they prepare for such a daunting assignment? And, perhaps most importantly for us folks sipping our sweet tea in sunny Florida today, was that command ever quietly, or perhaps loudly, rescinded for the rest of His followers? Let's dive in, shall we, with a casual spirit and maybe a chuckle or two along the way.

Imagine the scene: Jesus, fresh from demonstrating His authority over every conceivable ill – sickness, storms, demons, even the grave itself – gathers His handpicked team. These weren't exactly theological giants at this point; they were a motley crew of fishermen, tax collectors, and zealots. Super-saints? Hardly. And then He drops the bombshell: "Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give."

You could probably hear the crickets chirping, followed by a nervous cough from Peter, perhaps Andrew nudging Philip, whispering, "Did He just say... raise the dead? Like, actual dead people? It’s a command so radical, so beyond human capability, that it immediately points to its divine source. This wasn't about the disciples' inherent skill or impressive theological degrees (they had neither). It was about the power of God flowing through them.

The crucial intent, however, comes with that last phrase: "Freely you have received; freely give."

This wasn't a franchise opportunity. There were no licensing fees, no spiritual merchandise to peddle, no charging for divine intervention. It was an emphatic declaration that the power they were about to wield wasn't for personal gain or prestige. It was a gift, a manifestation of God's grace, and it was to be shared without expectation of earthly compensation. In a world full of snake oil salesmen and religious hucksters, Jesus laid down a clear marker: His kingdom operates on generosity, not greed. You can almost imagine Him giving them a stern look: 'And don't even think about setting up a " Miracles for Money" booth at the market.' I'm watching you, Bartholomew."

This entire command underscores Jesus's mission: to bring the Kingdom of God tangibly to earth, demonstrating His authority over sin, sickness, and death. The disciples were merely extensions of His ongoing ministry, signposts pointing to the arrival of something truly revolutionary.

Now, when we think of "procedure," our modern minds conjure up images of detailed flowcharts, meticulously labeled diagrams, and perhaps a 300-page instruction manual (probably written in Swedish and then poorly translated). So, what was the detailed "procedure" for healing the sick or (gulp) raising the dead?

Well, if you scour Matthew 10 and the parallel accounts, you’ll find... surprisingly little in the way of step-by-step instructions. There's no mention of specific incantations, no precise hand gestures, no required herbal concoctions, and certainly no CPR techniques. This wasn’t a medical school curriculum; it was a divine delivery.

Their "procedure" seems to have been remarkably simple: go, preach, and act in faith. Jesus had demonstrated various ways: a touch, a word, sometimes even just the sheer force of His presence. The disciples, being His apprentices, likely emulated what they had seen. They spoke with authority, laid hands on the sick, and presumably, for the truly audacious tasks, such as raising the dead, they prayed fervently and declared God's will.

The lack of a rigid protocol is, in itself, a profound lesson. It tells us that the power wasn't in their technique, but in the One who commissioned them. It wasn't about mastering a spiritual trick; it was about being utterly dependent on God. Can you imagine them trying to write a "Raising the Dead for Dummies" book? Chapter 1: "Locate Corpse." Chapter 2: "Ensure Corpse is, in fact, Corpse-like." Chapter 3: "Speak with Authority (from the diaphragm, please)." It would be absurd, precisely because the power was never their own. It was a spiritual demonstration, not a human formula. They were merely the conduits, the humble instruments in the hands of a miraculous God. This also meant that they couldn't take credit for the miracles, further reinforcing the "freely give" principle.

Their preparation was simple: travel light, rely heavily. If there wasn't a detailed "how-to" manual, what was their preparation like? Did Jesus put them through some spiritual boot camp, a Navy SEALs program for divine intervention? In a sense, yes, but it was far more organic and relational than institutional.

Their primary preparation was being with Jesus. For months, they had walked with Him, listened to His teachings, witnessed His miracles, and absorbed His heart for humanity. They saw Him heal the lame, open blind eyes, cast out demons, and even raise Jairus's daughter. This immersive apprenticeship was their real training. They learned by observation, by imitation, and by sheer proximity to the Son of God.

Beyond this profound practical discipleship, Jesus gave them very specific, albeit counterintuitive, instructions for their journey:

• "Do not get any gold or silver or copper to take with you in your belts; no bag for the journey or extra tunic or sandals or a staff." (Matthew 10:9-10). In essence: Travel light, boys! No credit cards, no expense accounts, not even a spare pair of socks. This wasn't about minimalist living; it was about radical dependence. They were to rely entirely on God's provision through the hospitality of those they encountered. This stripped away any illusion of self-sufficiency. If they needed food, shelter, or even clean clothes, they had to trust God to provide it through the kindness of strangers.

• "And into whatever town or village ye shall enter, inquire who in it is worthy, and there abide till ye go thence." (Matthew 10:11). Find a decent host, stick with them. No hotel hopping, no spiritual Airbnb. This fostered deeper relationships and prevented them from becoming itinerant spiritual tourists.

• He also warned them about rejection and persecution (Matthew 10:14-23). They weren't going to be universally applauded. Some towns would reject them, and they were told to shake the dust off their feet as a testimony against them. They would be "sheep in the midst of wolves," needing to be "ye therefore wise as serpents and harmless as doves." This wasn't a walk in the park; it was a mission fraught with peril. Their preparation, then, was as much about resilience and spiritual fortitude as it was about miraculous power. They were prepared to be sent out, utterly reliant on God, facing potential hardship, but armed with unparalleled authority.

  
  

And now, the million-dollar question for us Christians in the 21st century: Was that astonishing command – "heal the sick, raise the dead..." – a one-time special for the original twelve, a limited-time offer that expired with the apostles? Or does it still apply to us, the folks navigating U.S. 1 traffic and trying to figure out how to work our smart TVs?

There are, of course, varying perspectives and good arguments on both sides. Some would argue that this specific commission to the twelve was unique, tied to the foundational period of the church. The apostles were given extraordinary signs and wonders to authenticate their message and establish the early church in a world hostile to the gospel. Once the New Testament was written and the church firmly established, these "sign gifts" were no longer universally necessary in the same way. The age of the spectacular, they might say, has passed.

However, other interpretations suggest that while the context and intensity of the command may have been unique to the apostles' foundational role, the spirit of the command and the availability of spiritual power remain available to all believers. After all, the Great Commission in Matthew 28:19-20 tells us to "go ye therefore and teach all nations... teaching them to observe all things I have commanded you." If "everything I have commanded you" includes Matthew 10:8, then we have some serious considerations to think about.

Furthermore, Mark 16:17-18 mentions that "these signs shall follow then that believe: In my name shall they cast out demons; they shall speak in new languages; they shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on thee sick, and they shall recover." While debated, this passage suggests a broader continuation of miraculous manifestations within the believing community. The Apostle Paul, too, discusses gifts of healing and miracles in 1 Corinthians 12.

So, where does that leave us? I believe it’s a nuanced truth. It’s probably not a universal mandate for every Christian to have a weekly schedule packed with grave visits for revival attempts. God, in His sovereignty, is still God, and He works as He wills. We don't command Him; He commands us. However, it's equally clear that the power of the Holy Spirit to heal, to deliver, and even, in rare, God-ordained instances, to raise the dead, has not been "rescinded." We see examples of miraculous healings throughout church history and in various parts of the world today.

The key isn't a human ability to replicate Matthew 10:8 on demand, but a radical faith and reliance on the Holy Spirit. We are still called to pray for the sick, to confront spiritual darkness, and to live lives that demonstrate the power of God's Kingdom. While I’m not planning on carrying a shovel and an EMT kit on my next prayer walk, I certainly believe in the power of God to do the impossible. The "procedure" today remains much the same as for the disciples: faith, prayer, and being a willing vessel for God's power. It’s not about us being super-Christians; it’s about serving a supernatural God.

In conclusion, Matthew 10:8 is far more than an ancient anecdote about Jesus's initial disciples. It’s a profound testament to the radical nature of Jesus's mission and the extraordinary power He bestowed upon His followers. The procedure wasn't about human technique, but about divine flow; the preparation wasn't about extensive training, but about absolute dependence on God.

And for us, the Christians of today, the command hasn't been "rescinded" in the sense that God's power has somehow diminished or that He no longer works miracles. Instead, the context has shifted. While not every believer is commissioned to walk around raising the dead daily, the call to radical faith, to pray for the sick, to confront spiritual strongholds, and to trust God for the impossible, remains as vibrant and relevant as ever.

We may not be traveling without a spare tunic, and thank goodness, we likely have access to a good hospital when needed. But the core message of Matthew 10:8 endures: Freely we have received God's grace, His Spirit, and His love. And freely, therefore, we are called to give, allowing His power to flow through us to heal, restore, and point others to the glorious reality of His Kingdom. So, go forth, dear reader, and perhaps keep an eye out for opportunities to pray for someone. Who knows what God might do? Consider leaving the shovel at home, unless you're planning to do some gardening.