49 “I have come to cast fire upon the earth, and how I wish it were already ablaze! 50 I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what constraint I am under until it is completed! 51 Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! 52 From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; 53 they will be divided:
Jesus 12:49-56
father against son
and son against father,
mother against daughter
and daughter against mother,
mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law
and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.”
54 He also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain,’ and so it happens. 55 And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat,’ and it happens. 56 You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?
My sermon from the 10th Sunday after Pentecost (August 17, 2025) on Luke 12:32-40.
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I haven’t been able to visit the shore very often this summer but I recently stood on the Ocean City boardwalk when a thunderstorm rolled in. It was early in the evening so most people had already left the beach and returned to find dinner or visit the amusement park. The increasing cloud cover as well as the setting of the sun made the air feel eerie when the street lights unexpectedly turned on. I couldn’t really tell which way the clouds were moving and so my youngest and I joined everyone who were waiting to be entertained for thirty seconds at a time by a variety of mechanical rides. It was long, though, before a light drizzle signaled what was already on its way. After a few rights, I convinced her to take the festivities to an indoor arcade since I suspected that the nearby lighting strikes might force the amusement park to close for the night. I assumed it was going to pour at any moment but, luckily, most of the storm stayed to the north. When it was finally time to head back to where we were staying, the northern sky was lit up with all kinds of flashes of light as a giant cloud moved out over the ocean. Storms have a way of disrupting our plans and our expectations. And yet they’re also kind of necessary to make sure all plants, animals, and even human beings have the water they need to survive. The presence of storms along the horizon often shape the lives we get to live. And I wonder if Jesus’ words today from the gospel according to Luke were meant to show us how Jesus’ presence is its own kind of storm that transforms who we get to be in the world.
Now I’ll admit that Jesus’ words today aren’t the ones we paint on a piece of reclaimed wood and hang in our family room. It’s pretty hard to faithfully connect the Jesus we call Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, King of Kings, and the Prince of Peace with the One who also promises division and pain. The church has for a long time struggled with this passage and even Ambrose, the Bishop of Milian 1600 years ago, wrote “are we to believe that [Jesus] has commanded discord within families? …How does [this Jesus] say, ‘My peace I give to you, my peace I leave with you,’ if he has come to separate [children] from [parents] and [parents] from [children]…” We have, over the centuries, either ignored passages like this or used them to attack those we disagree with. And there are plenty of folks in our own country today who relish these words since they think they’re the ones who won’t get burnt. When it comes to our own practices of faith, we prefer a Jesus who is a little more graceful, comfortable, and caring. We need a Jesus who overcomes the divisions of our world and who gives us a sense of calm when our lives come tumbling down. When things are truly difficult and hard, the Jesus we pray to pats us on the back, holds us, blesses us, and knows we’ve truly tried our best. The One we turn to in our private and public devotions isn’t the One who splits families apart. And so what can we do with the Jesus who acts as if he’s a storm breaking into our lives and our world?
It’s possible, though, that this metaphor of a storm actually helps reveal a little bit of what Jesus was trying to say. Over these last few weeks, we’ve heard him share a variety of stories, parables, and teachings during his climactic journey from Galilee to Jerusalem. Some of his words were shared with those who begged him to intervene on their behalf while others were mostly curious and simply wanted to know how to pray. Jesus regularly talked about our need to be generous, inviting us to see God moving in our world, and inviting us to let compassion guide what we say and do. But making the time to follow Jesus isn’t easy since our possessions, our greed, our desire for comfort, our lust for power, and our lack of imagination often gets in the Way. Yet the God who is willing to show up in our lives and in our world is always going to be a disruptive act. Every healing and all the ways Jesus let those around him know they are seen and loved interrupts the limits we place on our lives and on our world. Jesus, then, really is his own kind of storm – a storm of grace, mercy, and hope that changes our expectations and assumptions. His presence will always upend the ways we let faith, culture, and tradition decide who matters and who doesn’t. As much as we’d like Jesus to bring about a kind of peace triumphing over all the division in our world, we – I think – are the ones who chose to remain divided since the status quo gives us a sense of purpose, status, and control. Being divided lets us assume that God’s promises are really only for the very few. And so we hoard what we have; marginalize those we don’t understand; and act as if other people are the sinners while we are saints who just occasionally make a few mistakes. Jesus’s words, then, are a kind of proclamation of holy frustration with the lives we choose to live. But it’s also a kind of promise that knows this isn’t the limit of what life can be about. Since we are loved; since we are part of God’s holy family; and because we are worthy of a God willing to live, love, die, and rise again – we get to push through our divisions and towards a more eternal unity where mercy and forgiveness is at the center of who we are.
The fire Jesus described was less hellfire and more a refining fire – the kind blacksmiths use to turn rock into a strong and precious metal. It’s the kind of fire Mary, Jesus’ mother, sang out loud with the promise that Jesus’ presence will scatter the proud and fill the hungry with good things. John the Baptist, when he baptized Jesus, noted how his presence will divide us from our self-centeredness and towards each other with a deep love and care. And it’s this same fire that fueled the long list of faithful ancestors sketched out in our reading from Hebrews who served God and their neighbor during times that were uncomfortable, challenging, and required them to imagine life beyond the status quo. They lit fires of love in big and small ways that pushed back the cloud of gloom and hatred which always try to divide us. They are part of the great cloud of witnesses which include those who’ve personally fed our faith and souls. What made each of them stand apart was the way they chose to be like Jesus and show us what a storm full of God’s love will always do. And while it isn’t always easy to figure out exactly what this kind of storm looks like, the holy fires of love will always save the weak, support the orphan, make a difference in the lives of those we declare to be our enemies, and are the sacrifices we make so everyone in need can thrive. This work we do will never be perfect and we won’t always get it right. But Jesus trusts this is something we can do since through Him, in Him, and because of Him, we are a part of that great cloud of witnesses showing everyone what a holy storm of mercy, compassion, and love can do in our own lives and in our world.
Amen.