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Mar 31, 2026 06:00am

Walking Through Luke: The Seventy-Two

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Luke 10:1–16

What’s worse: not knowing something is right, or knowing it’s right and choosing not to do it?

Growing up, I was the kind of kid who liked to have the rules in front of me—to clearly understand expectations so I could follow them without accidentally doing something wrong. There was nothing I hated more than feeling like I had failed, and whenever I did something wrong, that’s exactly how I felt.

That didn’t mean I was perfect. Like anyone else, I’m prone to moments of selfishness and bad behavior. But in general, especially if I thought there was a chance I’d be caught, I avoided doing anything that could get me in trouble.

Usually, we are more lenient with someone who doesn’t realize they’ve done something wrong. When I was about sixteen years old, I was working at Subway. I worked the lunch shift, from 11:00 to 2:00. It was typical for a few customers to already be in the store when I clocked in, and for things to get steadily busier around 11:30 until about 12:45 or 1:00.

Whenever we had free time, we were allowed to get a free employee lunch. I usually got mine right after the lunch rush ended, somewhere around 1:00. For the rest of my shift, things were typically pretty slow, so I’d work in the back on prep—cutting onions or tomatoes, opening new packages of meat or cheese, and handling similar tasks.

There was one particular day I came in, and when I walked through the door, it was completely dead. No customers in line—just a couple sitting in the restaurant already eating their food. My manager was there that day, which was unusual. She normally let an experienced employee supervise things.

I clocked in and thought, “I’ll grab an early lunch today and eat before the rush starts.” It was the first thing I did. I clocked in, put on my hat and apron, and immediately started making my sandwich.

Well, I had barely cut into the bread when I heard, “Jake…no.”

I looked up, and there was my manager standing around the corner, just shaking her head. I blushed, put the bread away, and went to the back to start stocking.

I didn’t realize I had done anything wrong. Maybe I hadn’t, technically, in terms of company policy—but my actions still led to correction because I wasn’t doing what I should have been doing.

I still remember how awkward that felt—and that was over a decade ago.

Thankfully, I didn’t get in trouble—just redirected. But if I had come in the next day and done the same thing again, I guarantee there would have been consequences. At that point, I would have known it was wrong and chosen to do it anyway.

Many American Christians have a habit of expecting everyone to behave as if they already know the rules. We expect new believers to act with the maturity of seasoned disciples instead of walking with them and helping them grow. We expect nonbelievers to live like Christians, even though they have no reason to follow standards they don’t believe in.

They are not Christians.

Our job isn’t to make non-Christians behave like Christians. Our job is to live like Christ and show them who He is through our lives. It’s unhelpful to criticize unbelievers for acting like unbelievers—but even worse is when we focus so much on that, and then fail to hold fellow believers accountable when they don’t reflect Christ.

At the beginning of Luke 10, Jesus sends out seventy-two disciples. Their responsibility was to prepare the way ahead of Him. He was traveling and ministering throughout various towns in Judea, but He couldn’t be everywhere at once. So, He sent them out in pairs to prepare hearts.

The goal was simple: when Jesus arrived, people would already be aware of the Messiah and ready to receive Him.

But Jesus also knew that not every town would welcome Him. His disciples would be ignored, mocked, or rejected. And He gave them clear instructions on how to respond.

His warning was sobering: those who rejected the message of the kingdom would face consequences worse than Sodom.

He specifically mentioned Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. These weren’t pagan cities. These were Jewish towns—places filled with people who had grown up knowing the Scriptures, the Law, and the promises of the Messiah.

They knew the truth.

And yet, they rejected Him.

Jesus even said that if Tyre and Sidon—pagan cities—had seen what these towns had seen, they would have repented.

That’s the difference.

Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum had knowledge—but not obedience. Tyre and Sidon had ignorance—but would have responded if given the opportunity.

Ignorance does not excuse sin—but it does leave room for mercy when truth is revealed.

But knowing the truth and rejecting it carries far greater weight.

I’m afraid we live in a world full of Christians who have more in common with those Jewish towns than we’d like to admit.

In places like the American South, the culture is saturated with the Bible. You can walk into Walmart and find t-shirts and trinkets with phrases like, “I just need a little coffee and a whole lot of Jesus.” Small figurines that say “Jesus loves you” are handed out casually.

His name is everywhere.

But is He truly known?

We often demand obedience from people who don’t know Him:

Act right
Speak right
Believe right

But how can someone reflect Christ if they’ve never met Him?

And at the same time, those of us who do know Him often ignore His teachings.

Like the Pharisees, we can become consumed with religious behavior while neglecting what Jesus called the weightier matters: justice, mercy, and faithfulness.

We push rules but forget the Gospel.

We expect transformation before surrender.

We expect behavior before belief.

We must be careful.

It is our responsibility to share the love of Christ with the world—but we must also ensure our own lives reflect Him.

It is possible to become so focused on rules that we completely miss Jesus.

It’s not our job to force people to change.

It’s our job to faithfully share the Word.

And when we do, Jesus reminds us in verse 16 that those who reject us are actually rejecting Him—not because of who we are, but because of the message we carry.

The message of the One who frees us from sin, transforms us, and leads us into lives marked by love, mercy, and justice.

We know what’s right.

But are we living it?