"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


By Suse McBay March 17, 2026
Are you 100% sure about that? Last December, Stephen and I headed for Prague for a few days. We were looking forward to Christmas markets, mulled wine, and shopping. Because we had booked a really early flight, we decided to stay in an airport hotel the night before. We hadn’t banked on one thing though: how to get from the bus station at Heathrow to the hotel. We could see our destination towering ahead of us as we exited the coach, but there was no reliable way to get there on foot. Much like Houston, navigating the surface roads of Heathrow is much easier for those in a car. So, we asked for directions from one of the airport staff. She pointed us over to two elevators, sat right next to each other. One had a line of at least twenty people. The other one had none. Those at the front of the queue hadn’t even pressed the button. That seemed strange and indicated that perhaps the people in line didn’t know what they were doing—or weren’t used to London airports. But why was one line so long and the other non-existent? The signs above weren’t exactly clear, but here were two lifts side-by-side, surely they went to the same place? Towards the back of the line was a middle-aged man, surrounded by luggage and family, who realised what we were trying to puzzle out. “Nah, you can’t use it. The other lift doesn’t go down. Doesn’t go to the same place,” he told us. We looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure?” we asked. “ One hundred percent , mate. One hundred percent.” The certainty with which he declared his answer was persuasive. He crowed like he was the CEO of the airport. That lift would not go where the other one was going. He repeated himself again. 100%. Only, he was wrong. We risked looking like fools. We walked to the vacant elevator, hit the button, and—lo and behold!—an elevator appeared that went to the exact same location as the other. The middle-aged man surrounded by luggage was 100%... in the wrong. Utterly and completely. *** Words, words, words, but no wisdom I don’t personally know the man who so-confidently revealed his wrongness. I’ve no idea whether his bluster was out of character from his usual self. But in the moment of our encounter, he acted every bit the ‘fool’ we find in Book of Proverbs: "A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing personal opinion." (Proverbs 18:2) There is much wisdom in Proverbs 17:28: Even fools who keep silent are considered wise; when they close their lips, they are deemed intelligent. It seems to me that we live in a world saturated with words, whether written or spoken. There’s an ever-growing number of websites, social media platforms, podcasts, and so on. Even more so now with AI. Yet for all this verbal abundance, there does not seem to be any more wisdom than there used to be. I would argue with AI, there seems to be less (or perhaps it’s simply exposing our foolishness). Part of me wonders about the virtue of writing a blog, when these are so often half-thoughts, explorations, and ideas: am I just adding to the plethora of opinions that exist on the blogosphere? Last year, I was teaching on how to plan and lead funerals with our final year ordinands. I spoke with confidence about what works and what doesn’t. What the role of the cleric is, how to work with the grieving family, how to craft the sermon, what to do afterwards etc. It felt good to be able to give real, lived experience having worked in a church for a decade. But it was only during the Q&A when I realized something. I realized my confidence was borne of a very specific context: I ministered in a large, Episcopal church in Houston, Texas. Not a small parish church, somewhere remote in England. Did the wisdom and experience I bring still have value in the Church of England, where the Church is an established one? Where those who minister do among many people who don’t dare to cross the threshold of a religious building except in such moments of life and death? Now I happen to think it does; but only with some qualification. For what I realized in that moment is that it’s not quite as readily transferable as I’d assumed. Church cultures are different. Expectations are different. How people respond and react to their local vicar is different! What works in one scenario doesn’t necessarily work in another. Consider Proverbs 26:4-5: 4 Do not answer fools according to their folly, or you will be a fool yourself. 5 Answer fools according to their folly, or they will be wise in their own eyes. Proverbs 26 has a seeming contradiction that speaks to the importance of context. In the situation where you’re faced with someone spouting foolishness, what should you do? Speak or not speak? Engage or not engage? The modern equivalent to v.4 might be to say to yourself “not my monkeys, not my circus” and walk away. But what about the times when it is your circus? When they are your monkeys? What about when to walk away is to leave someone blind to their mistakes and doomed to make more? What if responding might feasibly help someone see beyond their own blinkers and make a different choice? Sometimes v.4 might be the path of wisdom. Other times it’s v.5. But it’s not always apparent which is which. Overconfidence is not just dangerous for making us look like fools or giving bad advice. If we stay in our certitude, we miss the heart of the issue revealed in these two verses: we need wisdom. So where do we find it? *** Does ‘wisdom come with age’? I’ve heard it said that ‘wisdom comes with age’. Ironically enough, this line was used when I was in something of a disagreement with someone much older than me. But claiming moral high ground or superior understanding on the basis of some unalterable characteristic that you have but I don’t, is more indicative of pride than wisdom. If age does come with wisdom, there would be no conflict or disagreement within the human species as we age. If age is the sole arbiter, we should collectively do better as the wrinkles and grey hairs multiply. Yet that’s not what happens. Wisdom, sadly, is not inevitable. It can come with age because of one very simple reality: the more time you’ve had on the planet means you’ve had more opportunity to become wise. Now whether or not you’ve taken those opportunities is quite a different thing! *** Wisdom: a gift that needs seeking Proverbs has an interestingly balanced view of wisdom. It is (1) something that requires active seeking, yet also (2) something which only God can give. Proverbs 2:1-4 talks about the need to exert effort in acquisition of wisdom. It’s not something that just lands on our laps: it asks you to be open to learning and sitting with what you receive (v.1), deliberate and intentional in putting your body in a space to grow in it (v.2), and vocal in your search for it (v.3). In other words: humble, open, and hungry. This passage concludes by likening it to searching for silver or hidden treasure (v.4). Think about that for a moment: do you search for wisdom in the same way you seek out growth in income or asset? From a human wisdom point of view, seeking financial gain for our security and future as we age (and our children grow and go off to college etc) makes good sense. But what if we were to seek wisdom with the very same fervour? What if wisdom had the same significance for our spiritual security and future? What if it is important to our growth in the Christian life and readiness for what may come our way? It’s a gift that needs seeking. But Proverbs tells us it is also a gift that is given. Verse 6 reveals “ the LORD gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding .” Our seeking is not the whole picture. Longing for wisdom does not mean we get it. Wisdom is God’s domain not ours. Proverbs 8 illustrates that God’s Wisdom is not something to acquire or harvest. It is not a commodity to be doled out. It is not a consumer good. Wisdom was present when God made the world. Wisdom is a part of God’s self that chooses when to be imparted and when not to be (compare 1:28; 8:17; 9:5, 16) The very fabric of our material world is infused with the mystery of Wisdom. Insight and understanding comes from God and helps us to navigate the complexity of our lives, but this gift is just a glimpse of a much greater reality of the divine Wisdom which exists eternally. This, perhaps, brings us back to where I started. True wisdom is never found in loud proclamations of “one hundred percent!”. Why? Because the one who is wise recognises they have a lot to learn. They know that new information can shift and reframe yesterday’s certainty. Maybe the first step is to stop claiming absolute certainty—to stop the all-or-nothing thinking. Maybe we start with recognising what Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 13: we only see in part, know in part, understand in part. And from there, we begin actively seeking that gift which only God—from His Wisdom—can give. Wisdom has built her house, she has hewn her seven pillars. 2 She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has also set her table. 3 She has sent out her servant-girls, she calls from the highest places in the town, 4 "You that are simple, turn in here!" To those without sense she says, 5 "Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. 6 Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight." Proverbs 9:1-6 ****** Photo © Copyright Derek Harper and licensed for reuse under a cc-by-sa/2.0 Creative Commons Licence.
By Suse McBay February 13, 2026
What do we do on days when God seems entirely absent? Some thoughts about where I see that in my life today and, looking back, recognising how much has changed.

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