Sent: Becoming People of Love in Action

We began this series with rest: green pastures, still waters, the restoration of our souls. Then we moved into the in-between, the valleys where trust is stretched and we learn to rely on the Shepherd’s presence. Now we arrive at the third movement: being sent.

The life of faith does not stop with rest or waiting. It always moves outward. The invitation to return is paired with the call to become. To become people whose lives are love in action.

The Overflow of Presence

You may have heard the phrase, “You cannot pour from an empty cup.” There is truth in that, but it is also incomplete. The life of faith is not about pouring from our own limited supply. It is about overflow.

What we offer to the world comes from the presence of God within us. We are refreshed, restored, and then sent out carrying that renewal into our communities. Our action flows not from exhaustion or performance, but from being deeply rooted in love.

Guided Along the Paths

Psalm 23:3 tells us, “He guides me along right paths for his name’s sake.” Notice the word guides. God does not drag us forward like puppets on strings. To guide is to show, to influence, to walk alongside. The word itself carries both presence and freedom.

And notice it says paths. Not one single predetermined path, but many. God’s guidance leaves space for our participation. Wherever we walk, whatever choices we make, the Shepherd is present, offering guidance and companionship.

That presence is what makes our action possible. Without it, we would be striving, performing, exhausting ourselves to earn love or approval. With it, our action becomes alignment. We act out of who we are, not to prove who we are.

Love in Action

We see this rhythm of being drawn in and sent out throughout the life of Jesus. He did not only gather the disciples close. He sent them.

One of the clearest examples comes in Luke 10, when Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan. In response to the question, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus describes a man beaten and left for dead. Two respected religious leaders walk past. But the Samaritan, the outsider, is the one who stops. He notices. He cares. He acts. He binds wounds, gives his resources, and ensures the man is tended to.

Jesus closes with a charge: “Go and do likewise.”

This is what being sent looks like. It is not about position or status. It is about mercy. It is about responding with love when your path is interrupted.

Psalm 23 says God guides us along right paths, but right paths are not always serene. Sometimes they lead us to dusty roads where compassion calls for our attention. Sometimes the right path disrupts our agenda.

And here is the invitation: being sent is not about striving or proving ourselves. It is about alignment. It is letting love become visible in ordinary moments.

Often, we tell ourselves we are not ready. That once we gain more qualifications, more stability, more confidence, then we will finally step into what God is asking of us. But the Samaritan did not wait. He responded with what he had, right where he was.

Being sent is not about perfection. It is about presence. It is showing up, trusting that God is already on the path with us, and allowing love to shape our response.

A Story of Being Sent

For a long time, I resisted stepping back into leadership. A previous experience had left me discouraged and wounded, and the thought of returning to that space felt risky. So when the opportunity came, my first instinct was to say no, even though something inside of me wanted to lean in. I told myself I was too busy, that someone else might be better suited, that I did not want to repeat old mistakes. Underneath those excuses was fear.

But God kept nudging. Eventually, I said yes.

This time, something was different. I realized that being sent did not mean stepping back into leadership alone, carrying the weight of everything on my own shoulders. It meant creating space for others. So I built a team of women: younger and older, from different backgrounds, and different seasons of life. I did not want a team that looked just like me. I wanted a team that reflected the richness of God’s family.

We began dreaming together. We asked, What could it look like to create a ministry where women were supported and empowered to flourish in every part of their lives? We shared our stories. We brainstormed. We prayed.

Something shifted in me. I moved from performing to participating, from striving to shepherding. My greatest joy was not being at the front but being behind the scenes, encouraging, resourcing, and celebrating others as they stepped into their own callings.

I remember one retreat we hosted for our women leaders. I watched as they leaned into the weekend and each other with creativity, courage, and compassion. I felt so much joy seeing them thrive - they had ideas (big ones) - and it was so exciting. It was clear: the work was not mine alone. God had sent us together.

That season taught me that being sent is not about proving myself or protecting myself. It is about saying yes to God’s invitation and then trusting that the Spirit is already equipping the people around me. It is about showing up as myself and making space for others to do the same.

Becoming People of Love

To be sent is to live in alignment with who we already are: beloved children of God. That identity changes everything. It shapes how we see our neighbors, how we use our resources, and how we respond in the everyday moments of life.

Transformation is slow. Becoming people of love takes time. But with every choice to respond in alignment with love, we are becoming.

A Small Invitation for You

Ask yourself today: Where is God already at work around me? How might I be invited to join?

It might not look dramatic. It could be listening closely to a friend, offering kindness in a rushed moment, or saying yes to an opportunity that feels small but sacred.

You are not sent to fix the world. You are sent to embody love in the part of the world entrusted to you.

Closing

The journey of returning and becoming always draws us back in, holds us in the middle, and sends us out again. That rhythm never ends.

So may you go with courage. May you walk the paths the Shepherd guides you on. And may your life become an expression of love in action.