Jeremiah 23:23-29 Psalm 82; Hebrews 11:29-12:2; Luke 12:49-56
The Rev. Drew Brislin
In the name of the one Holy and Undivided Trinity, Amen.
Those of you with sons—and maybe especially those of you with multiple sons—probably know how rambunctious they can be sometimes. Well, let me tell you, the Brislin boys were no exception to that rule. We got into things we shouldn’t have, and we were often known for getting into tussles with each other. Sometimes, our mischief rose to the level of Mom giving us the dreaded warning: “Wait till your father gets home.”
We knew that was an ominous sign. But by then, we had usually pushed things a little too far, and there was no going back. Our dad didn’t discipline us often, but when he did, we didn’t soon forget the lesson. His “tool of instruction” hung in his closet like a brightly lit highway sign at night. And the instruction to “go to the bathroom” when he got home meant only one thing.
There was pretty much no way out of the predicament we found ourselves in as a result of our bad behavior. But before punishment was ever given, our dad would have a conversation with us. It usually involved him guiding us to admit what we had done wrong—so that we understood why we were being punished. Then, just before administering discipline, he would always say, “Now, know this hurts me more than it hurts you.” To which I would silently reply, “I seriously doubt it.”
As I’ve grown older and reflected more, I’ve come to better understand what he was trying to say.
This morning’s Gospel might catch us off guard—Jesus seems to speak some pretty stern words to those following him.
How is it that Jesus, who has preached reconciliation and told stories like the Parable of the Prodigal Son, now speaks of creating division—setting parents against children and vice versa?
I think we need to start by realizing that Jesus is not telling us to judge others. Unfortunately, this passage has often been used throughout history to justify things like “just war theory” or the division between believers and non-believers. But that’s not what’s going on here.
Sometimes it’s hard to see those we think are “undeserving” receive God’s grace and promises. Yet, a community called to reconciliation is exactly that—a community that welcomes all. And that kind of radical inclusion can disrupt the status quo.
The twin images of Jesus—the gentle Lamb and the swift sword—reflect both his mercy and his judgment. Both are born from God’s desire to defeat sin and reconcile humanity to Himself. And yes, that often creates division. But in that division, the Gospel begins to break through.
A church willing to live out radically inclusive hospitality will be more open to hearing Jesus’ words of judgment—not as condemnation, but as love. This kind of community is willing to have hard conversations. It will discover that even judgment, when it comes from Christ, is made in love. A God who is willing to die for us—who is willing to die for all of creation—is worthy of challenging us to do hard things.
This morning’s reading challenges us to rethink what God is doing in Jesus—and who we are called to be as disciples. The fire Jesus speaks of is not apocalyptic destruction. The division he mentions is the kind that comes from the proclamation of his death and resurrection. That proclamation upends the status quo and creates peace—true peace—built on mercy, compassion, and justice.
Doing what is right can be hard. It can even put us in conflict with others. But from those hard choices—those faithful actions—new life emerges. Evil is undone. Separation is overcome.
As I’ve grown older, I understand now what my father meant when he said discipline hurt him more than it hurt us—even though my backside might still disagree. But when I now look at what he was doing, it wasn’t punishment, it was a desire to teach us how to be in a right relationship with our mother or with each other or with others. And I also see that speaking truth, offering welcome, and showing hospitality—especially to those considered “unworthy”—can put us at odds with others. But that is exactly what Jesus calls us to do. Justice, real justice, God’s justice is all about right relationship and not punishment or revenge.
Loving and having compassion is our call as followers of Jesus. And you Ascension have shown me this, over and over again. It is one of the many things that I have learned from you that I will carry with me into my future ministry.
As Allison and I were driving to Oakwood Cemetery for the sunrise service this past Easter, we listened to the Taizé song “In the Lord.” You’ll find the lyrics in the bulletin insert:
“In the Lord I’ll be ever thankful,
In the Lord I will rejoice!
Look to God, do not be afraid;
Lift up your voices: The Lord is near,
Lift up your voices, the Lord is near.”
As my time here as your Associate Rector draws to a close, these simple verses seem to capture how I feel as we prepare to enter a new season of ministry.
I will be forever thankful for how you welcomed me, Allison, Max—and later Pete—into the life of the church. Thank you for helping form me as a new priest. It was here, at Ascension, where I was ordained—and more importantly, where you allowed me to minister to you. I rejoice in the time we have spent together. You have welcomed me into so much: youth ministry, formation, scouts, working with the kids in our day school. You allowed me to be with you in the hospital, at your bedside, to comfort you, and to celebrate with you at baptisms and weddings. And to grieve with you during losses and remember loved ones.
As I think about this ending and the new beginning, I remind myself to look to God and let the knowledge that he is always near ease any fears of leaving the known and growing into a new call. I look forward to what is next — both here at Ascension and on the mountain as you and I all continue to answer our call to show God’s love as his hands and feet in this earthly world.
And finally, Candice, thank you for inviting me to partner with you in ministry over the past five years. Thank you for being a great friend and mentor. I’ve learned so much from your guidance and leadership, and what I’ve learned from you—and from everyone here at Ascension—will guide me in the days to come. And I take comfort in knowing the Lord remains near to all of us now and in the days ahead.
Amen.