
What’s the most important thing to carry with you all the time?
Most of us reach for the obvious: keys, wallet, phone. A water bottle. Maybe snacks. Maybe a backup plan.
But in Matthew 10, when Jesus sends His disciples out into the world, He strips away the checklist. He tells them not to carry the usual things—no money, no bag, not even an extra tunic. The mission will be lean, uncomfortable, and open to interruption. They are to carry something else entirely.
Here’s a poetic reflection on what He told them to take:
We asked what to bring—
He said,
not gold
not silver
not sandals
not spare shirts.
Not even a bag
for backup plans
or just-in-case faith.
He sent us with less
than we thought we needed
and more than we knew we had.
He told us
to carry peace
like a gift wrapped in silence—
to leave it on doorsteps
like morning bread.
And if no one took it,
to carry it still.
Peace doesn’t spoil.
It travels well.
He told us
to carry words
but not to worry about them.
They will come,
He said.
They always do,
when breath and boldness
hold hands.
He told us
to carry healing—
not bottled,
but borne.
To touch the untouchable,
lift the fallen,
give as we’ve been given.
Freely. Generously.
He told us
to carry the Spirit—
not in our pockets,
but in our bones.
To let our lives
be the message.
And so we go:
lighter than we imagined,
richer than we understood,
bearing the weightless things
that change the world.
Interestingly, these are the same things we brought into the world when we were born: trust, presence, and the need to be held. And they are the same things we will take with us at the end—when the clutter fades, and what remains is what always mattered.
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