Thursday, August 21, 2025

Wait, What?

Luke 12:49-56

August 17, 2025

 

            There is an article in this month’s Christian Century magazine written in tribute of Walter Brueggemann, now of blessed memory. Brueggemann was a renowned biblical scholar of Old Testament, particularly in hearing and interpreting the prophets. He was a prolific writer, and his book The Prophetic Imagination was required reading when I was in seminary, and I believe that it is still required in many seminaries today. The author of this article, Jason Edwards, wrote that “Brueggemann was not interested in easy answers or sanitized interpretations. … He did not ask the biblical text to be safe; he asked it to speak. And when it did, he stayed.” [i]

            He did not ask the biblical text to be safe; he asked it to speak. The text from the gospel of Luke that is before us this morning is one that I am asking to speak, even though our initial response may be wait, what? What did it say? What did Jesus say? Wait, what?

            Last week, we heard Jesus tell those around him not to worry, not to be afraid. We heard that it was God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom. We heard that when the master comes home, he will have the servants sit at the table and he will serve them. And this week, as we move to these last closing verses in chapter 12, we read that Jesus now declares that he “came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”

            Jesus states that he has a baptism with which to be baptized and that he is under great stress until it is completed. Then he declares that the people think he has come to bring peace on earth. But he has not come to bring peace. He has come to bring division. Households will be divided. Families will be divided. Fathers against sons. Mothers against daughters. Mothers-in-law against daughters-in-law. He has come not to bring peace on earth but division. Wait? What?

            So this is what Jesus, and the text are speaking. But what does it mean? Jesus says that he has a baptism with which to be baptized and that he is under great stress until that baptism is accomplished. We know that he has already been baptized in the Jordan by John. That is not the baptism that he referring to. The larger context of these verses is that Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem. He has set his face toward that city, which means that he is moving toward the cross. There is no turning back. This die has been cast. So, the baptism that Jesus is referring to is not one of immersion but crucifixion. The baptism for which he in great stress is waiting is his own death into new life. I imagine he was under stress. Terrible stress.

The Greek word translated as “stress” in my version of the Bible means a “squeezing.” It is a pressing in. Jesus is being squeezed and pressed. Pretty accurate way of describing stress isn’t it? When I am under an enormous amount of stress I feel as though I am being squeezed and pushed and pressed from all sides. Jesus is feeling this. He has been trying all along to show the people that the kingdom of God is already in their midst. Now he tells them that it’s obvious.  They can look at a rain cloud and realize it is going to rain. They can feel the south wind blowing and know that the heat will be upon them. But what’s right in front of their eyes, they can’t see!  Why can’t they just get it? 

            So Jesus has not come to bring peace. He brings division. These words may disturb and perturb us, but hasn’t this has been true all along? Jesus was run out of his hometown. His own mother and brothers think he has gone off the deep end. He’s ticked off just about every religious leader he’s encountered. He has confused and scared people. He heals one person only to anger another person with that same healing. Jesus assures the people who surround him of God’s love, but he also tells them that God is more than just words on scrolls or rules to be adhered to. God is in their midst. God is working among them. The power of God’s Holy Spirit is blowing new life into what was dead. Everything is shaken, stirred, changed. Because when God comes, things happen, life changes. Who said that would be easy or painless? Who said that the peace of God would be a warm fuzzy? Who said that the coming of the kingdom would make everybody feel just great? Not Jesus. The coming of the kingdom brings abundant life. But that life comes out of death, it comes out of change. And change can and does bring division.

            When I used to read these words, it seemed like Jesus wanted to bring division. That was his sole purpose and plan. And that just seemed counter intuitive and just plain counter to all the Good Shepherd images of Jesus that I have been clinging to since childhood. But as scholar and writer Debie Thomas wrote, and I paraphrase, too often we interpret these words of Jesus as being prescriptive. That he is telling people that this is what he does, and we read into it that this is what they should do as well. But Jesus is not prescribing. He is describing. These are the consequences of his coming into the world. These are the consequences of his preaching and teaching. These are the consequences of people accepting his word – or not. Division may not be his intent, but division is what happens.

            Yet even as I understand that Jesus was being descriptive instead of prescriptive that doesn’t make these words of division any easier for me to hear or to take to heart. When I hear these words speaking from scripture, I don’t want to stay as Brueggemann did. I don’t want to stay because they seem to fly in the face of the idea of unity that I have been taught all my life. We are to be one, unified, together, no matter what. No matter what our external differences may be, we are one. But Jesus was not talking about unity in these verses, was he? He was saying that the consequence of his coming, of his teaching and preaching, of him just existing, was not unity but division. The crowds around him were not joining hands and singing Kum Ba Yah. But that’s what I thought we were supposed to do! Right?! We are all just supposed to get along.

            But following Jesus, following the gospel can divide you from people that you love. It provokes a crisis in those who take it seriously. By crisis, I mean that point when you cannot unsee what you have seen. You cannot go back to where you were before. Following Jesus and taking the gospel seriously evokes cognitive dissonance – that tension between what is and what should be. The gospel makes me question what I know and see and understand because I get a glimpse of the difference and the distance between what is and what God wants. And sometimes in that crisis, in that cognitive dissonance, unity is not possible – not if it means unifying around what is contrary to the gospel. When I let the scripture speak, when I remember that Jesus’ words, these stories, these difficult, challenging texts are more than just words on a page, but a living gospel, I am disturbed and disrupted and definitely not at peace with myself. I am definitely not safe, and nothing about following Jesus feels easy or light. Maybe you feel the same.

I suspect that if we’ve been paying attention, we should already know this about our faith, about our call. We should already know the division that Jesus speaks of. We know that following Jesus doesn’t always win us friends. Speaking the truth in love doesn’t prevent rejection of that truth. Loving others as Jesus loved us does not make them love us back. Following Jesus means risk. Trusting that the message of the gospel is not just about ten easy steps to get to heaven but is instead a message of radical reversal. Following Jesus, letting the gospel speak is risky and challenging and scary. The gospel isn’t nice, and it isn’t easy, and it is not safe.

            But the gospel changes how we understand love, success, power and greatness, and preaching that gospel message might not bring people rushing to the pews on a Sunday morning.  But if we take Jesus’ words seriously, we do it anyway. We love anyway. We give anyway. We follow anyway; we risk anyway because being a disciple isn’t just about being nice. It’s rarely nice. It means change and pain and division and stress.  Jesus was stressed.  He was being squeezed and pressed and pushed and pulled. But he never wavered from the path to the cross. So as hard as it is to hear these difficult and challenging words, because they aren’t what we expect or want, we must hear them. We must take them seriously. Even if they make us pause and say, wait? What? Even though it causes great stress, we, in the words of the author of Hebrews, keep running the race before us. None of it is easy, but it was never meant to be easy. None of it is safe, but it was never meant to be safe. But we are called to keep running, to keep persevering, to keep following Jesus because following Jesus has never mattered more than it does right now. Following Jesus, letting the scripture speak, is what could make all the difference. And if there is a word of comfort in these difficult passages it comes from Hebrews. We are not the only ones who faced these challenges, who lived in this tension, who felt this squeezing stress. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, by all the faithful who persevered, never knowing where the race would take them. But they raced anyway. That is the good news. That is the gospel. Thanks be to God.

            Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”

            Amen.

           

 

 

 



[i] Jason Edwards, The Christian Century, August 2025

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