"A Test of Allegiance": A Sermon on Luke 12:49-53

September 22, 2023

This sermon on Luke 12 was given at St. Martin's Episcopal Church in August of 2019. It has been edited slightly, but otherwise in its original form.

I recently read the book “Educated,” which tells the difficult, but powerful story of Tara Westover. Born to survivalist parents who live in the mountains of Idaho, Tara was brought up off-grid in a very insulated world. She didn’t receive an education, she was never allowed to receive medical treatment and she was so unknown to the government she didn’t even have a birth certificate until she was 9. Tara spent most of her childhood learning how to salvage metal in her father’s junkyard and how to use herbs to treat all and any ailments in her mother’s kitchen. The youngest of seven, it was one of Tara’s older siblings taught her to read. One day Tara decided she wanted to get something of a more formal education so she snuck an algebra book into her room and started to learn some basic math. The radical nature of Tara’s upbringing is a story in and of itself. But the additional piece of her journey is that she suffered significant and persistent physical abuse from one of her older brothers. Abuse that was minimised, covered up and denied. She didn’t even realise it was wrong. It was her normal.

By what could be considered a miracle, Tara managed to get to university – and she slowly begins to find a worldview outside of the one she received growing up. It was this education that saved her. As time progressed and her learning continued, she found herself increasingly at odds with the views of her family. She could name the abuse for what it was. And finally, after trying to confront them and deal with the reality of how she’d been wronged, her parents cut all ties. Tara made the costly decision that living in the truth she had come to know was more important to her than the abusive relationships she grew up in. A family divided.

***

When we read the gospel reading today, I think most of us would find it hard reading. Most of us would find it hard to reconcile with our understanding of a God who is merciful, loving, compassionate and forgiving. A God who is the Prince of Peace. Yet here in unequivocal terms we hear Jesus saying he has not come to bring peace but division. How on earth do we make sense of that? How do we hear those words and respond in faith? How do we allow these words from Luke’s gospel draw us closer to Jesus?

The truth is the God we worship is both the God who Judges and the God who Forgives. And Jesus, being God in human form, is exactly the same. So when we hear his words “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” (Luke 12:49 NRSV) we hear something of the judgement Jesus brought. A judgement that faced each person as they were presented with Truth personified. In encountering Jesus – the way, the truth and the life – they (as we) were presented with a choice: will they embrace God’s truth or will they reject it for their own way? Not just in the abstract, but in the detail.

Will I respond to God as my everyday life comes under the scrutiny of Christ? As the light of God’s Word shows up my sin and failure and I experience Him saying No to my sin and the acceptance and tenderness of His Yes to me?

In accepting or rejecting God’s truth, we also choose the consequences of doing so. Eternal life with God and His goodness. Or eternal life without. Jerusalem itself had been confronted with Jesus’ truth and challenge to their religious idolatry and nationalism and they chose the latter. They rejected repentance and change and stayed with what they knew. A life where they were comfortable and had power. And so, a chapter later at the end of Luke 13, Jesus utters these words, foretelling the Roman destruction of Jerusalem as the manifestation of his judgement:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'”

Jesus is the God who Judges.

But Jesus is also the God who Forgives.

He is the One suffered for our sake—who loved us enough to bring about our rescue. Yes, Jesus brings fire but he also brings salvation. “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!” (Luke 12:50 NRSV). Jesus is stressed! He is preoccupied with the suffering ahead. Suffering that he knows is God’s will as a means to reconcile the world to Him. While Jesus brings judgement, he also brings the means to survive that judgement. He is the means. He is going to stand in the gap on our behalf. Even though He knows that many will reject this great and costly gift.

God–even in Jesus–brings judgement. But with it He brings the means for our salvation.

But when Jesus asks "Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!" (Luke 12:51 NRSV) we hear of the consequences that we will face if we embrace the judgement and forgiveness Jesus offers. If we seek to follow Him, be faithful to him above all, we will experience conflict. If we allow his judgement in our lives to shed light on our sin and throw us back into the arms of his acceptance and forgiveness, and the grace to live differently, we will, in some way or another, suffer for it. Why is division inevitable? Because others will not make the same choice we make. Some will harden their hearts, act out of pride or shame or fear. And eventually worldviews collide and conflict ensues.

To put it another way, if we prioritise peace with God (i.e. living in a right relationship with Him and seeking to grow in Him) over and above other relationships where we might be expected “to keep the peace” in passivity and turn a blind eye, we’ll experience conflict. As we care more for what God thinks of us than those around us, we’ll find others displeased and dissatisfied that we are not playing their games and we might be rejected.

And so we come to the crux of the division Jesus brings: he will set father against son, mother against daughter and mother-in-law against daughter-in-law. Here we have probably the hardest test of allegiance: will we be faithful to God or faithful to family?

In the event the two become in opposition to one another, which would you choose?

We live in a world where some might say the role of family is being diminished. That might be true. But we also live in a world where people regularly say that the thing that is most important to them is their family. We talk about family being the important thing when it comes to what life is about. Not work. Not success. Friends come and go, but family is what matters. Blood is thicker than water.

Now God is a huge fan of family. He invented the concept. But families, like all things, are broken, flawed and marred by sin. And like we do with so many things we often idolise the gift of family, rather than worship the giver, God himself.

The test of allegiance we all face in greater or lesser ways is this: will my allegiance to God as revealed in Jesus Christ be greater than my allegiance to anything of this world, including my family relationships? Am I willing, should the need arise, to forgo those relationships most dear to me for the sake of my relationship with God? If I receive heat over a decision I make, something I sense God is asking to me do, that someone says is too risky, too generous or too foolish, will I follow God anyway? If I find that God calls me to call out something in my family that is not as it should be, maybe something psychology might call dysfunctional but we might call sinful, will I do so no matter the cost?

***

Tara Westover had her eyes opened by her education. By coming face to face with more of the truth about reality it cast a different light on her family life and eventually led to division. But it wasn’t out of spite, hatefulness or even anger that she left. In an interview she said she recognised her parents love for her was real, but unfortunately so too was their radicalism and the abuse. Despite her parents’ treatment of her, she writes about them with compassion and kindness. One review of her story said:

“This story, remarkable as it is, might be merely another entry in the subgenre of extreme American life, were it not for the uncommon perceptiveness of the person telling it. Westover examines her childhood with unsparing clarity, and, more startlingly, with curiosity and love, even for those who have seriously failed or wronged her.”[1]

Tara’s story is one of division, but not because of her resentment, it followed as world views collided and people she loved hardened their hearts to her. A prophet without honour in her own home.

In Jesus we don’t have just some of the truth about reality. We have the Truth itself. Reality itself. John 8:31-32 says "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." (John 8:31-32 NRSV) If we continue in God’s word – follow Him, turn our will and our life over to Him daily – we will experience more and more of His truth and the freedom that comes with it. We will know increasing peace with God, but also, at times, greater conflict with others, even our own families. But when it comes down to it, when the rubber hits the road, the question is one of allegiance. Which peace will we choose? Peace with God from following Him and seeing His faithfulness as we take risks in His name? Or peace with others that keeps our idols, our pride, or our sense of safety intact? Who will get your allegiance?

******

[1] Review by Alexandra Schwartz for the New Yorker, https://www.newyorker.com/recommends/read/educated-by-tara-westover

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A Thought About Resurrection

By Suse McBay • July 28, 2026

Let me start by asking a question: if someone came up to you and asked what's the benefit or blessing of being a Christian, what would you include in your answer? There's the things we might know to say from Sunday School: Jesus loves me, died for me, so I can be forgiven and free. Or something like that. Would it naturally come to your lips to say this: The gift of my faith is that no matter how hard life gets, no matter the sorrow or suffering that comes my way, I am reassured and strengthened by the confidence that God does not ignore the unjust lives or deaths of those who stick close to Him? *** This summer I’m taking some time to look at Daniel 11-12 and Book 4 of the Jewish poetic writings I research, the Sibylline Oracles . This post is an observation and an out-loud thought from some of my reading. Again and again, both in Daniel, the Sibyllines, an array of other Jewish literature, and the gospels (as well as elsewhere in the NT—e.g. Mark 8:38-9:1, 10:29-31, John 11:25, 1 Cor 15:16-19, 2 Corinthians 4), resurrection and the post-mortem life appears as an encouragement and response to the problem of human suffering. Not a rationale or justification. It’s not an answer to the question of ‘why does God allow suffering’ in any overt sense. But an end to the story of God’s peoples that shapes how the present might be lived. When I was very young, I thought resurrection was more-or-less a get of jail free card for the crucifixion. Jesus died on a cross to deal with sin and death. But if he isn't raised it's all pointless: so God has to raise him. Resurrection as an after thought, if you will. But resurrection isn't an epilogue. It's the victory. Without it the whole story is pointless. It's a real, substantial, material hope. *** Life is hard work. Life does not always go our way. Even when it does, that way isn't usually what we really wanted anyway! There's the normal hard stuff of life: work, family, friendships, health and so on. Then there's the hard stuff of following God. We are given so much goodness in the gospel: a relationship with God for starters! But also forgiveness, healing, reconciled relationships, a change and liberation of priorities, freedom and new life. All such wonderful and good things. Yet they are all a foretaste. Reconciliation doesn't always happen. We might have an interior freedom but experience hardship after hardship externally. I've been reading the diaries of Etty Hillesum who expereinced just that. She was a young Jewish woman in the 1940s. She experienced such a bliss and joy because of her faith and spirituality that found contentment even in life in a concentration camp. Yet her life ended at the tender age of 29. So much life left to live, so much potential unrealised. *** Resurrection is a reminder and encouragement that our real hope and the true fulfilment of the gospel isn't in the here and now (it begins now, but as a foretaste of what's to come). We aren't to expect ' everything will go my way ' in this life or that I should experience the perennial blessing of God in my earthly life and relationships. Following God will not be easy. The things He calls us to do may not succeed. The people we love may not love us back. The person we pray for may never come to faith. The change we want to see manifest in the world around us may not happen in this life. But resurrection says this: God has not forgotten. God sees it all. God will set right. Unjust deaths will be dealt with. Unfair hardship will be set straight. This life is not all there is. There is so much more to come, that all of this--even the heart-breaking stuff—will pale in significance in comparison. Yes, that doesn't stop it hurting in the present moment. It doesn't stop grief or stem the tide of darkness today. But it allows us to let go. Surrender. Trust. None of this has to be fixed now. We do what we can. But the outcome of it all is not one realised in this life, but the next. So take courage. There is more to come. ******

A Scottish Scandal & the Gift of Healthy Shame

By Suse McBay • June 24, 2026

Peter Murrell, a Scottish political worker and now ex-husband of Nicola Sturgeon (former SNP party leader), was this week sentenced to 5 years in prison for embezzlement. Over the years he had used party money to buy all manner of things. It began with a Play Station 3 but escalated, to buying silver wine coaster, a Jaguar, and a motor home (the list goes on and on). Now embezzlement is not new. Nor is using political office for personal gain. But what struck me were the comments from the lawyer following the sentencing: “ The accused is now an individual overwhelmed by feelings of embarrassment and shame .” Shame. We don’t know if it’s true or not, but I wonder how you respond to hearing such contrition? Responses can range from the judgemental (“ Good! He deserves it ”) to the overly sympathetic (“ Perhaps he’s learned his lesson ”). But regardless of where we individually fall on the sympathy scale, it was an interesting example of what I’ve been thinking about recently: healthy shame . Mr Murrell has undeniably done something wrong and has betrayed the office given to him. He’s estranged from his wife. He’s headed to prison. He was there to represent the people, but instead, he has preyed on the sheep (Ezek. 34:2 has things to say about this). That uncomfortable feeling of recognising where we have transgressed our limits and have become hoodwinked by our own hubris and entitlement. His inadequacies have been publicly exposed. His dirty laundry is out in public. We may be more accustomed to scandal given the internet age, so we may be desensitised to it, but I bet Peter Murrell is not. When it happens to you, it’s painful. It’s uncomfortable. It’s exposing. I’m no psychologist, so I’d recommend John Bradshaw’s book on Healing the Shame That Binds You , if you want to think more about it. Dan Allender and Tremper Longman have a good Christian reflection on different emotions in Cry of the Soul. But I’ve been noticing where healthy shame appears in Scripture. Shame crops up again and again and again. I’m still in the early stages of thinking about where it appears and why, but one clear example of where it occurs is in scenes of divine judgement, both those in the present and those yet to come. God’s People Exposed (1) Daniel 12:1-4 talks about how Jewish believers in the 2 nd century BCE would be raised. The wise and understanding ones who didn’t comply with the political schemes of Antiochus IV would be raised to shine like stars. The others? Those who had aligned themselves with the emperor and in the process forsaken their covenant loyalty to God? They would be faced with everlasting shame (and contempt). (2) Jeremiah 2 has strong words for God’s people of Israel who have got so wrapped up in themselves they have stopped seeking where God is at work and instead are playing with other idols under the illusion of thinking they’re faithful because they keep the Law. They even say they don’t run after false gods (v.23). They’ve tried to seek out gain from the political powers (v.18) rather than humbly submit themselves to God (v.20). The result? They will be put to shame by Egypt (v.36). In an eerily similar statement to the news from Scotland: “As a thief is shamed when caught, So the house of Israel shall be shamed: They, their kings, their officials, Their priests, and their prophets.” (Jer 2:26) And the same is true in the New Testament. Mark 8:38 says this: "Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels." I suspect these are words for people who don’t listen to Jesus’ words in the preceding lines: the message that to follow Jesus is to take up your cross, deny yourself. Surrender your own wants and desires. Those who, like Peter, wanted to avoid death. Avoid suffering. Avoid hardship. Those who wanted a Messiah that came on a horse not a donkey. One who wore a crown of gold, not one of thorns. ** So what a bout us? How do we avoid that fate? Well, like a bill that if you don’t pay now you’ll be paying a lot more later, we need to start facing our inner shame today. Both the healthy shame and the shame we’ve been given that doesn’t belong to us. We might take some time to pray, be still, listen. See what comes up when we think about our uncomfortable feelings that usually stay in the shadows. The great gift of shame is that it shows us our limits. Where we’ve crossed the line and harmed ourselves, others, and our relationship with God. Where we’ve tried to be more than human (or acted in fear that we’re less than human). But shame also dies on exposure. Though I’d also add that shame dies on exposure in the presence of a loving other. We find a person or a group where we can start doing the crazy thing and actually revealing our shameful selves to others. Peter Murrell is full of shame, his lawyer says. The question is: what will he do with it? Will he use this public humiliation to face himself as he is? Does he have people around him to listen to him and to help him through it? I hope so. Genuinely. I hope that for all of us. That we would have the courage to allow the One who is Light to bring light into the midst of our shame today. To bring us out of hiding. Shame is a horrible feeling: I’m not a fan. But I do know that on the other side is acceptance, serenity, and a joy that really does make it worth it. It is true freedom—and it’s only in that freedom I can become who God has made me to be. Because whatever I’ve done, however humiliating, the deepest truth of all is that I’m made in the image of God. I am loved. ****** Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash