This past week I read, in of all of places, The New York Times, an article about the state of churches
and ordained ministry in America. I’d like to begin this morning by sharing a little excerpt with you:
“The American clergy is suffering from burnout, several new studies show. And part of the problem,
as researchers have observed, is that pastors work too much. Many of them need vacations, it’s
true. But there’s a more fundamental problem that no amount of rest and relaxation can help solve:
congregational pressure to forsake one’s highest calling.
“The pastoral vocation is to help people grow spiritually, resist their lowest impulses and adopt
higher, more compassionate ways. But churchgoers increasingly want pastors to soothe and
entertain them. It’s apparent in the theater-style seating and giant projection screens in churches
and in mission trips that involve more sightseeing than listening to the local people. As a result,
pastors are constantly forced to choose, as they work through congregants’ daily wish lists in their e-
mail and voice mail, between paths of personal integrity and those that portend greater job security.
As religion becomes a consumer experience, the clergy become more unhappy and unhealthy.”
I hope you’ll be relieved to hear that the reason I bring up this article isn’t to complain about the
rigors of a priest’s life, nor is it a defense of our family vacation, which, coincidentally, starts later
today. In fact, I find the people of this congregation to be unusually open to responsible clergy self-
care and to an honest look at the joys, challenges and expectations of the Christian faith. I don’
t think this congregation would be satisfied with “Christianity Lite.”
Instead, to me what’s important about this article is that it acknowledges a pretty big problem we
have in this country right now. The article isn’t a perfect one. For instance the pastor who wrote it
fails to mention the most important role in a pastor’s vocation: spreading the good news of salvation
in Christ. But he still gets a lot right. And what he gets especially right is his observation that many
people seem to think that God is just there to walk into the room in his cardigan sweater, give us all
an unconditionally loving pat on the head and tell everyone, “I love you just the way you are.”
[Actually, this first statement is true. He does love us just the way we are. But if you’re paying
attention at all to what the scriptures are saying, there’s a second sentence. And that second
sentence is: “But I love you too much to leave you that way.”] Yes, it’s great news that we’re saved.
But it’s meaningless unless we acknowledge that we’re saved from something. We’re saved from the
rebellion that leaves us in a state of sin and death. And this is a truth that’s difficult for human ears
to hear. In fact it kind of ticks us off. We don’t want to hear it.
This is something that Jesus addresses in today’s Gospel reading. It starts with some words that are
very easily misunderstood. Jesus says, “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were
already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is
completed! Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”
We might be forgiven for asking, “Whoa! Who are you, and what have you done with gentle Jesus
meek and mild? The thing is, this passage from Luke is very easy to misunderstand when it’s taken
out of context. I mean, in isolation it almost sounds like Jesus’ reason for being is to bring chaos and
turmoil. “I’ve come to bring not peace, but division.” But let’s look at the whole context of Jesus’
ministry and see what this tells us. It must first be said that Jesus consistently taught nonviolence
within a cauldron of hot emotion. Many Jews were just about to the boiling point over the occupation
of Palestine by the Romans. The word peace came from his lips many, many times in the Gospels.
And he practiced what he preached, going quietly to His death, when he could have called down
legions of angels to protect him, as he himself pointed out. In fact, right after he stated this fact, he
asked His captors: “Am I leading a rebellion, that you’ve come out with swords and clubs to capture
me?” He knew full well they couldn’t honestly blame him for inciting conflict.
So, no, Jesus was not about bringing strife into the world. Rather, as we’ll see in a minute, what He’s
really doing in this passage is reporting on one of the dark truths of human nature.
He’s talking about the consequences of rejecting the truth he brings. Now admittedly, if you harbor
the image of gentle Jesus meek and mild, or what one Christian writer refers to as the “wimpy
Jesus,” the first line is kind of a shocker. “I’ve come to bring fire to the earth,” he says. Let’s look at
this. Fire can mean a number of different things in the Scriptures, but we can be pretty sure here
that Jesus isn’t talking about nuking the planet or anything like that. But it does have to do with
judgment. Judgment is coming to the earth, and it’s the natural outcome of sin and rebellion against
God.
But to really understand what Jesus is saying, we need to look closely at his very next words. “I have
a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I’m under until it’s completed!”
Like many words from the Greek, the word “baptize” loses a little something in the translation.
Literally, it means “to submerge.” In the passive voice we have here, it means “to be submerged.”
Jesus is talking here about His own coming death on the Cross. He’s looking ahead to his
submersion in the dark waters of suffering and death.This is the baptism with which he’ll be baptized.
You see, the Cross was always looming in front of Him. His entire life was a preparation for this
event. His crowning achievement on earth was the crushing of the twin evils of sin and death
through His own death and resurrection.
Jesus’ words tell us a couple of critical things. First, he was to go through this “baptism” willingly and
with full knowledge. “Informed consent” I think is the legal term. He and the Father were in one
accord that drastic action was needed to save us all from our disastrous legacy of sin and rebellion.
So God came to this earth in the form of a man to clear the scales of accumulated sin, and give
humanity a new start. He took sin and its death curse onto himself to rescue us. It wasn’t divine child
abuse, but rather God’s ultimate act of love and self-sacrifice on behalf of His beloved human
creation.
I pray we never forget what Jesus has done for us and why. Through His own death He’s saved
us from spiritual death. In His love He’s not only given us forgiveness and eternal life, but has
offered to us His peace in this life. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you
as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” Jesus said these words
shortly before his crucifixion.
And this is what leads us to the second matter illuminated by this passage. The second issue is this:
We shouldn’t expect the gospel to bring universal peace and harmony to this world.
But, wait a minute, isn’t this precisely what we should expect the gospel to bring? Sadly, no. And the
reason is this: the gospel has to be accepted and lived to be effective. Peace almost certainly is the
outcome of the gospel wherever it’s received, believed, and lived. But when the gospel is rejected, in
our words or in our actions, it has no power to transform. Expecting the gospel automatically to bring
world peace is like expecting a light bulb to shine without turning the switch on. The flow is there but
the wires need to connect.
It was this situation that in Luke 19 prompted Jesus to lament over the stubborn blindness of the
people in Jerusalem. Luke writes: “As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it,
and said, ‘If you’d only known on this day what would bring you peace--but now it’s hidden from your
eyes.’” Jesus goes on to describe the judgment awaiting the city because of its rejection of the
Messiah, and this prophecy was fulfilled with chilling accuracy about 35 years later. There are
consequences to rejecting God’s gifts of truth and grace. And I think it’s some of these
consequences that Jesus is referring to when he tells us that he’s not bringing peace, but division.
We’re each given the dignity of choosing whether to accept or reject the good news of Jesus. And
then we live with the choices we make.
The next words of Jesus in this passage portray something that will look familiar to some here this
morning. He says families will be divided. He’s saying that, even within the same household,
some will accept the gospel, and some will reject it. Michele and I have looked at this reality in our
own extended families with no small measure of anxiety. We continue to pray that the Lord will keep
knocking on the doors of some of our loved ones’ hearts. Jesus is saying that while some people
freely respond to Christ’s overtures of love, and others deny or reject him, there can be no true
peace. There’ll be division.
As I mentioned earlier, this really rankles some people. Some think the way to get rid of the problem
of strife is to get rid of religion. One of the atheists we took a look at last week is in this camp.
Richard Dawkins lays the blame for human strife squarely at the feet of those who claim to give us
God’s revealed standards for human beings. And reading some of Dawkins’ other work makes it
clear that he sees only destructive nonsense in the idea that Jesus has come to our aid since we’ve
failed to meet those standards.
This isn’t a new phenomenon. Here’s what J. C. Ryle said about similar people all the way back in
the 1800’s: “Let us never be moved by those who charge the gospel with being the cause of strife
and divisions upon earth. Such men only show their ignorance when they talk in this way. It is not the
gospel which is to blame, but the corrupt heart of man. It is not God’s glorious remedy which is at
fault, but the diseased nature of Adam’s race, which like a self-willed child refuses the medicine
provided for its cure.” “Hey, get that stuff away from me! I’m not the sick one!”
How easy it is to blame this or that institution for all the ills of the world. It’s the Republicans! It’s the
Democrats! It’s the French! It’s those loony Christians! The consistent message of the Bible is that
the whole human race shares in common a sin nature—that we’re all susceptible to pride and
selfishness, and all the other evils that come from these. Jesus says the problem is human sin, and
that He’s the answer to this problem. I, for one, believe him. He relieves us of the unbearable burden
of our past wrongdoing, and offers us unity with himself to defeat sin in our lives now. And the only
cost is our own investment of faith and our decision to follow Him. Some of us will make that
investment, and sadly, others will not. So, for now, divisions will remain.
And divisions will remain in the church as long as we pretend that redemption can come without
repentance, and comfort can come without cost. One day, and I hope it’s soon, there will be no more
divisions. There will be peace on earth. This will happen when Jesus returns to this earth to finish
the war against the spiritual forces of evil that have for so long tormented this beautiful planet. Then
we’ll have the peace that will endure to eternity. Until that wonderful day may we set our eyes on
Jesus, our hearts on the peace of his coming kingdom, and our hands to the work of paving the way
for its completion. Amen.
and ordained ministry in America. I’d like to begin this morning by sharing a little excerpt with you:
“The American clergy is suffering from burnout, several new studies show. And part of the problem,
as researchers have observed, is that pastors work too much. Many of them need vacations, it’s
true. But there’s a more fundamental problem that no amount of rest and relaxation can help solve:
congregational pressure to forsake one’s highest calling.
“The pastoral vocation is to help people grow spiritually, resist their lowest impulses and adopt
higher, more compassionate ways. But churchgoers increasingly want pastors to soothe and
entertain them. It’s apparent in the theater-style seating and giant projection screens in churches
and in mission trips that involve more sightseeing than listening to the local people. As a result,
pastors are constantly forced to choose, as they work through congregants’ daily wish lists in their e-
mail and voice mail, between paths of personal integrity and those that portend greater job security.
As religion becomes a consumer experience, the clergy become more unhappy and unhealthy.”
I hope you’ll be relieved to hear that the reason I bring up this article isn’t to complain about the
rigors of a priest’s life, nor is it a defense of our family vacation, which, coincidentally, starts later
today. In fact, I find the people of this congregation to be unusually open to responsible clergy self-
care and to an honest look at the joys, challenges and expectations of the Christian faith. I don’
t think this congregation would be satisfied with “Christianity Lite.”
Instead, to me what’s important about this article is that it acknowledges a pretty big problem we
have in this country right now. The article isn’t a perfect one. For instance the pastor who wrote it
fails to mention the most important role in a pastor’s vocation: spreading the good news of salvation
in Christ. But he still gets a lot right. And what he gets especially right is his observation that many
people seem to think that God is just there to walk into the room in his cardigan sweater, give us all
an unconditionally loving pat on the head and tell everyone, “I love you just the way you are.”
[Actually, this first statement is true. He does love us just the way we are. But if you’re paying
attention at all to what the scriptures are saying, there’s a second sentence. And that second
sentence is: “But I love you too much to leave you that way.”] Yes, it’s great news that we’re saved.
But it’s meaningless unless we acknowledge that we’re saved from something. We’re saved from the
rebellion that leaves us in a state of sin and death. And this is a truth that’s difficult for human ears
to hear. In fact it kind of ticks us off. We don’t want to hear it.
This is something that Jesus addresses in today’s Gospel reading. It starts with some words that are
very easily misunderstood. Jesus says, “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were
already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is
completed! Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”
We might be forgiven for asking, “Whoa! Who are you, and what have you done with gentle Jesus
meek and mild? The thing is, this passage from Luke is very easy to misunderstand when it’s taken
out of context. I mean, in isolation it almost sounds like Jesus’ reason for being is to bring chaos and
turmoil. “I’ve come to bring not peace, but division.” But let’s look at the whole context of Jesus’
ministry and see what this tells us. It must first be said that Jesus consistently taught nonviolence
within a cauldron of hot emotion. Many Jews were just about to the boiling point over the occupation
of Palestine by the Romans. The word peace came from his lips many, many times in the Gospels.
And he practiced what he preached, going quietly to His death, when he could have called down
legions of angels to protect him, as he himself pointed out. In fact, right after he stated this fact, he
asked His captors: “Am I leading a rebellion, that you’ve come out with swords and clubs to capture
me?” He knew full well they couldn’t honestly blame him for inciting conflict.
So, no, Jesus was not about bringing strife into the world. Rather, as we’ll see in a minute, what He’s
really doing in this passage is reporting on one of the dark truths of human nature.
He’s talking about the consequences of rejecting the truth he brings. Now admittedly, if you harbor
the image of gentle Jesus meek and mild, or what one Christian writer refers to as the “wimpy
Jesus,” the first line is kind of a shocker. “I’ve come to bring fire to the earth,” he says. Let’s look at
this. Fire can mean a number of different things in the Scriptures, but we can be pretty sure here
that Jesus isn’t talking about nuking the planet or anything like that. But it does have to do with
judgment. Judgment is coming to the earth, and it’s the natural outcome of sin and rebellion against
God.
But to really understand what Jesus is saying, we need to look closely at his very next words. “I have
a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I’m under until it’s completed!”
Like many words from the Greek, the word “baptize” loses a little something in the translation.
Literally, it means “to submerge.” In the passive voice we have here, it means “to be submerged.”
Jesus is talking here about His own coming death on the Cross. He’s looking ahead to his
submersion in the dark waters of suffering and death.This is the baptism with which he’ll be baptized.
You see, the Cross was always looming in front of Him. His entire life was a preparation for this
event. His crowning achievement on earth was the crushing of the twin evils of sin and death
through His own death and resurrection.
Jesus’ words tell us a couple of critical things. First, he was to go through this “baptism” willingly and
with full knowledge. “Informed consent” I think is the legal term. He and the Father were in one
accord that drastic action was needed to save us all from our disastrous legacy of sin and rebellion.
So God came to this earth in the form of a man to clear the scales of accumulated sin, and give
humanity a new start. He took sin and its death curse onto himself to rescue us. It wasn’t divine child
abuse, but rather God’s ultimate act of love and self-sacrifice on behalf of His beloved human
creation.
I pray we never forget what Jesus has done for us and why. Through His own death He’s saved
us from spiritual death. In His love He’s not only given us forgiveness and eternal life, but has
offered to us His peace in this life. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you
as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” Jesus said these words
shortly before his crucifixion.
And this is what leads us to the second matter illuminated by this passage. The second issue is this:
We shouldn’t expect the gospel to bring universal peace and harmony to this world.
But, wait a minute, isn’t this precisely what we should expect the gospel to bring? Sadly, no. And the
reason is this: the gospel has to be accepted and lived to be effective. Peace almost certainly is the
outcome of the gospel wherever it’s received, believed, and lived. But when the gospel is rejected, in
our words or in our actions, it has no power to transform. Expecting the gospel automatically to bring
world peace is like expecting a light bulb to shine without turning the switch on. The flow is there but
the wires need to connect.
It was this situation that in Luke 19 prompted Jesus to lament over the stubborn blindness of the
people in Jerusalem. Luke writes: “As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it,
and said, ‘If you’d only known on this day what would bring you peace--but now it’s hidden from your
eyes.’” Jesus goes on to describe the judgment awaiting the city because of its rejection of the
Messiah, and this prophecy was fulfilled with chilling accuracy about 35 years later. There are
consequences to rejecting God’s gifts of truth and grace. And I think it’s some of these
consequences that Jesus is referring to when he tells us that he’s not bringing peace, but division.
We’re each given the dignity of choosing whether to accept or reject the good news of Jesus. And
then we live with the choices we make.
The next words of Jesus in this passage portray something that will look familiar to some here this
morning. He says families will be divided. He’s saying that, even within the same household,
some will accept the gospel, and some will reject it. Michele and I have looked at this reality in our
own extended families with no small measure of anxiety. We continue to pray that the Lord will keep
knocking on the doors of some of our loved ones’ hearts. Jesus is saying that while some people
freely respond to Christ’s overtures of love, and others deny or reject him, there can be no true
peace. There’ll be division.
As I mentioned earlier, this really rankles some people. Some think the way to get rid of the problem
of strife is to get rid of religion. One of the atheists we took a look at last week is in this camp.
Richard Dawkins lays the blame for human strife squarely at the feet of those who claim to give us
God’s revealed standards for human beings. And reading some of Dawkins’ other work makes it
clear that he sees only destructive nonsense in the idea that Jesus has come to our aid since we’ve
failed to meet those standards.
This isn’t a new phenomenon. Here’s what J. C. Ryle said about similar people all the way back in
the 1800’s: “Let us never be moved by those who charge the gospel with being the cause of strife
and divisions upon earth. Such men only show their ignorance when they talk in this way. It is not the
gospel which is to blame, but the corrupt heart of man. It is not God’s glorious remedy which is at
fault, but the diseased nature of Adam’s race, which like a self-willed child refuses the medicine
provided for its cure.” “Hey, get that stuff away from me! I’m not the sick one!”
How easy it is to blame this or that institution for all the ills of the world. It’s the Republicans! It’s the
Democrats! It’s the French! It’s those loony Christians! The consistent message of the Bible is that
the whole human race shares in common a sin nature—that we’re all susceptible to pride and
selfishness, and all the other evils that come from these. Jesus says the problem is human sin, and
that He’s the answer to this problem. I, for one, believe him. He relieves us of the unbearable burden
of our past wrongdoing, and offers us unity with himself to defeat sin in our lives now. And the only
cost is our own investment of faith and our decision to follow Him. Some of us will make that
investment, and sadly, others will not. So, for now, divisions will remain.
And divisions will remain in the church as long as we pretend that redemption can come without
repentance, and comfort can come without cost. One day, and I hope it’s soon, there will be no more
divisions. There will be peace on earth. This will happen when Jesus returns to this earth to finish
the war against the spiritual forces of evil that have for so long tormented this beautiful planet. Then
we’ll have the peace that will endure to eternity. Until that wonderful day may we set our eyes on
Jesus, our hearts on the peace of his coming kingdom, and our hands to the work of paving the way
for its completion. Amen.
August 15, 2010
The Rev. Dan Tuton
The Rev. Dan Tuton
Not Peace, But Division
(Luke 12:49-56)
(Luke 12:49-56)
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