“Fire On The Earth”
Luke 12:49-56
A Baptist pastor fresh out of seminary was assigned to a small church in the hills of Kentucky. In his first sermon, he condemned gambling, especially betting on horses. The sermon wasn’t well received. “You see, Reverend,” a parishioner explained, “this whole area is known for its fine horses. Lots of our members make their living breeding racehorses.”
The next Sunday the pastor spoke of the evils of smoking, and again, his sermon wasn’t well received—for many of his members also grew tobacco. The third week the pastor preached about the evils of drinking, only to discover that a major distillery was one of the town’s biggest employers.
Chastised for his choice of sermon topics, the frustrated pastor exclaimed, “Well, then, what can I preach about?” A kindly older woman spoke up and said, “Pastor, preach against those godless Ohio State Buckeyes. Why there isn’t a Buckeye within 300 miles of here!”
We’ve been camped here in the 12th chapter of the Gospel according to St. Luke for the past three weeks. Jesus has been speaking to a large crowd, so large that folks were trampling on each other. He’s also been speaking specifically to His disciples, or apprentices, which includes us. He’s been teaching some life lessons such as whom we should fear after our body as been killed [Satan], how life consists of more than an abundance of possessions, about being possessed by our possessions, about being rich toward God rather than what society defines as rich, and I threw in the fact that after we die, we are going to live.
Last Sunday Jesus said, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom.” Nuff said! Something we should all memorize, or as my Spiritual Coach says, we should re-memberize it.
Jesus calls us His “little flock.” How affectionate is that. But this morning He turns the tables on us doesn’t He. Going so far as to call us hypocrites. What in the world has happened?
There are some sermons people just don’t want to hear because they contradict their dearly held values or their comfortable lifestyles. Jesus earned a reputation for preaching those kinds of sermons—sermons that were challenging and demanding, radical and divisive—and we have one of those sermons for our Gospel Lesson this morning. Jesus had that ability to—as they say—“shuck the corn” as some of my good friends would say.
Jesus starts out by saying, “I have come to bring fire on the earth.” We need to remember that people back then would have thought about “fire” in a different way than we might think. When we think of fire we think of destruction. Back then they would have cooked over an open fire—they would have used torches to see at night.
We also must remember that God spoke to Moses through a burning bush and he led his people through the wilderness at night with a pillar of fire. To these people fire meant the manifestation of God—perhaps Jesus is telling them in His way that He is God.
He goes on to proclaim that “I have a baptism to undergo.” The “baptism” to which Jesus referred was His coming crucifixion. Jesus was dreading the physical pain, or course, but even worse would be the spiritual pain of complete separation from God that would accompany His death for the sins of the world.
And then, He says, “Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division.” In these strange and unsettling words, Jesus revealed that His coming often results in conflict. Because He demands a response, families may be spilt apart when some choose to follow Him, and others refuse to do so. Jesus allows no middle ground. He demands loyalty and commitment, sometimes to the point of severing other relationships.
Jesus Himself was denied by His friends and even by His own family; they said, “He is out of his mind” [Mark 3:21]. And we know all about His suffering. Almost every part of the New Testament bears witness to the opposition of society as a whole against the early Christians. Jesus is calling us to the same mission, and this mission might cause some hardships—it might cause some division in our families—it might even mean saying goodbye to a lifestyle or even some that we consider to be friends.
Ron Luce’s parents divorced when he was a child. When he was 15, he moved in with his father. His father wasn’t the kind of father most of us would hope Dad would be. His dad encouraged Ron to smoke pot and party. For a while Ron thought he’d found the perfect life. But then, a friend invited Ron to church. The little church he attended was alive with joy, and the pastor’s message connected with Ron, and he chose to become a follower of Jesus Christ. The joy he discovered changed his life. He stopped smoking pot and partying and began sharing his faith with all his friends. The result of that was that not long afterwards, his father and stepmother kicked him out of the house. They said they didn’t want a Jesus freak living with them.
So, at 16, Ron was temporarily homeless and living out of his car. Ron’s pastor took him in. As Ron would later write, “Being a part of my pastor’s family was the most incredible experience of my Christian growth.”
With the support of his new family, Ron Luce graduated from high school and college and went into the ministry. Today, he is the co-founder and president of Teen Mania Ministries where he devoted himself to spreading the message of God’s hope and love to teenagers.
Ron Luce’s family rejected him because of his commitment to Jesus, and it changed his life radically. If he had refused to accept Jesus as his
Savior…if he had been lukewarm in his faith…if he hadn’t let the message of Jesus change his lifestyle…if he hadn’t tried to share his faith with others, none of the blessings of his new life would have happened.
I’ve seen some posts on social media this week from some of my friends taking their children off to college for the first time. I’m reminded of my mom taking me off to college. I was finally on my own but being on my own forced me to discipline myself. I had to get myself up in the morning—I had to carve out time to study—I had to learn that you can’t wash your white clothes with your colored clothes—and I was forced to learn that it was better to wash your dishes once a day rather than once a week or once a month.
There is one special day each semester on every college campus: the first day of class. All of the students will be there—most of them with freshly purchased and untouched books. Each professor’s grade sheet will be untainted by actual grades. The students get there on time and somewhat prepared and they begin the semester with the same resolve as their teachers: “This semester will be different. I will come to class prepared—I will give a wholehearted effort—I will finish this semester with as much enthusiasm as I begin.” This usually lasts until the second day of class or until the first unannounced quiz—and then reality sets in.
And with that reality comes decisions and division. The student tries to manage his or her time and balance obligations for work, family and school. The student is conflicted with too many different disciplines of study and not enough unity. “Do I go to the party down the hall or stay in my room and write this paper or study for an exam?” The “urgent” pushes out the “important” and with every decision there are choices that remain unmade.
It’s like the teenage girl at summer camp who was torn between two sets of friends. Some of them were sunbathing on the dock and saying, “Stay with us.” But her other friends were in a rowboat saying, “No, stay with us.” There she stood, one foot on the dock and one foot on the rowboat and the boat was moving. Trying to please everyone and trying not to decide, she ended up falling into the water—and worse, she got her hair wet!
Jesus completes our lesson this morning by calling us hypocrites! Yep, you heard me right. He says, “You know how to interpret the appearance of the earth and the sky. How is it that you don’t know how to interpret this present time?”
I grew up in an era long before YouTube or satellite radio. We listened to those scratchy 45 and 78’s on a little phonograph with a terrible speaker. FM radio was starting to be introduced, and I eventually graduated to 8-tracks which required a suitcase to transport. I know, I’m aging myself here.
Anyway, I remember riding to school and listening to the AM radio in our car. It was somewhere around 6th grade, and we were listening to a band called Credence Clearwater Revival. The song that was playing was a hit written by John Fogerty called, Bad Moon Rising. And I remember my mom asking, “Did he say that there was a bathroom on the right?” Well, God love her, that’s what it sounded like. Listen to the words of that song from 1969:
I see a bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin’.
I see bad times today.
I hear hurricanes a blowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers overflowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.
Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we’re in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.
Don’t go around tonight,
Well, it’s bound to take your life,
There’s a bad moon on the rise.
Palestinian Jews didn’t have to watch the Weather Channel to be able to predict the weather. Jesus is rebuking them for being able to discern the weather signs—the physical signs; but yet being ignorant in reading the spiritual signs all around them. The signs of their times pointed to the Messiah with the arrival of His Kingdom. Some of you have some decisions to make—some of you have some problems making that commitment. The people back then had eyes to see and ears to hear—yet they chose to be blind and deaf. Are we still the same? Are we missing the signs?
[20-year anniversary of Katrina – some folks missed the signs]
Don’t go around tonight,
Well, it’s bound to take your life,
There’s a bathroom on the right.
Eastman First Methodist Church 