Back in 2014, I was part of a team that planted a new church near Fort Belvoir. For nearly a year before our first community event or worship service, we prayed, discerned, studied the Bible and demographics of the area, and planned. Then we prayed some more. Our first event was going to be a food packaging event for Stop Hunger Now. Over four hours, we planned to pack at least ten thousand meal kits. We called the event "Serve with Saint Nick" as the event took place days before Christmas. Santa was in attendance, taking a break from his pre-Christmas Eve duties. We purchased Facebook ads, sent out postcards, and put signs out throughout Fort Belvoir's neighborhoods.

As we got closer to the event, we noticed the physical signs we had put out began to disappear. This happened again as soon as we started advertising our Christmas Eve service at the neighborhood fire station. And it happened again as we began to hold regular worship services and community events in a local elementary school cafeteria. We figured either the Holy Spirit was trying to tell us something or a more sinister plot was at hand.

So, we did was any sane/rational church planting team with members who work in the military intelligence field would do – we purchased tracking devices and secretly hid the devices inside the signs. Then we sat by our laptops on a 24-hour rotation, waiting for something to happen.

All I can say about these disciples is that one minute they got it – they heard and saw what Jesus was teaching and doing – and the next, they were shoving their apostolic feet into their mouths. They had seen people healed (they had not yet healed anyone). They had heard Jesus speak about the cross and the cost of seeking after him (they did not quite understand, but they were still rolling with Jesus). They learned what the cost of discipleship meant – namely, setting aside aspirations of greatness for themselves. And in our scripture reading, the disciples decided to rat out a person casting out demons in Jesus' name.

The disciples' issue with this exorcist was not their ability to heal people or the exorcist doing these acts in Jesus' name. No, the disciples' issue was that this exorcist in their minds had gone rogue because, the disciples' said, the exorcist was "not following us." The disciples' chief complaint had nothing to do with the exorcist's actions, and instead, they were upset because this person casting out demons was outside what they believed to be the establishment.

This person is no one of "us" the disciples complained to Jesus, implying there is no way this person could do what they said they were doing in Jesus' name because the disciples had been cut out of the picture. This exorcist had influence, in Jesus' name, outside the disciples' sphere of influence.

The disciples were the ones called away from their boats and families, not this random person.

The disciples were the ones who had been walking, following Jesus, and listening to his vague, confusing, and at times scary lessons about what his ministry would lead to, not this random exorcizing do-gooder.

"We've tried to do the same thing in your name, Jesus," the disciples were thinking, "and along comes some new person stealing our thunder?! Plus, this person is not even following us!"

It did not take long for our covert GPS tracking chips to begin relaying alerts that our bugged signs were on the move. Quickly our crackerjack investigative team was on the move, tracking the stolen Jesus signs to a random VDOT staging area off I-95. As our team moved in, they discovered a man placing multiple church signs from numerous congregations in a trashcan. With smartphone cameras rolling, the team confronted the man.

"What are you doing?" they shouted over the noise of idling dump trucks.

It turns out this was not a man cleaning up what he believed to be litter along Telegraph Road. No, this man was a local church vigilante who was seeing that "his church," as he put it, would not have any competition. No matter how many signs we or others put up, the man said, he would be sure to take them down and put them where they belonged as he motioned toward a roll-off dumpster.

"His church."

"Not following us."

Like the disciples snitching on a first-century exorcist, the vigilante church sign stealer of Northern Virginia lost sight of what Jesus calls his disciples to do. In seeking Christ, we point away from ourselves, becoming part of a community, a body, that becomes part of Christ's continued presence in a world in desperate need of his saving grace.

The methods we follow, proclaim, and serve in Jesus' name may work for us, but the truth is that we do not get to put a trademark on Jesus, and we do not get to copyright the amazing grace we proclaim week after week.

Jesus was (is) not interested in squabbling over team affiliation or franchising rights. Instead, Jesus redirected the disciples' attention to something more important than claiming credit for the redeeming work he would accomplish through his life, death, and resurrection. Namely serving the least, lost, and lonely. Do that Jesus tells his disciples, and us today, and we will "by no means lose the reward?"

The stumbling blocks Jesus pointed to are all the things we do, all the barriers put in place by the Church, that prevent the "little ones," those pushed out by the establishment, from experiencing the fullness of life extended to all of creation by the redeeming work of Christ. If we insist that we are the only ones in town, the only means by which the world can approach Jesus, then we should, as Jesus put it tie heavy objects around our necks and go for a swim or begin cutting off appendages.

A theatrical demand from Jesus. It's impossible, really, because ultimately, we are just like the sign-stealing guy, just like the disciples snitching on an exorcist. Every time I receive a mailing or social media ad about a new church coming to the area, I roll my eyes. Along North Glebe Road, there are at least six churches in a two-mile stretch, and that is more churches than traffic lights. "Surely," I say to myself, "one of them can fit the needs of everyone in the community. Do we really need another church to draw people away from the amazing things I am doing at Mount Olivet? Why can't they just join us?"

Then I am drawn back to the truth of today's gospel reading: in Christ Jesus, all are welcome at his table of grace. The love of God in Jesus Christ is not mine or even ours to distribute. The Church received its saltiness by the grace of the One who was nailed to the cross and three days later left his burial clothes behind.

I often wonder if the random sign-stealing guy with a truck is still wandering up and down Telegraph Road attempting to squash out what he believes to be barriers to following his Jesus. The Good News for him, for me, for us is that in our submission to seek first, following the One who first sought us out, is that the redemption of creation, the salvific work of God in Jesus Christ is not dependent on us.

The work is done. Finished.

And should we stumble, or cause others to stumble, the amazing grace of God pulls all of us in. Again, and again.