Not for Ease

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

I cannot pretend that I was particularly cheered when I read this morning’s Gospel with all its talk of foes being members of one’s own household. Especially when I realised that, not only had it had fallen on Father’s Day (for those who keep it) but that we are shortly to celebrate a wedding anniversary in the congregation. I think this is what is meant by the phrase ‘divine irony’. 

So, what on earth is the Good News here when the picture Jesus paints for his poor followers seems quite so bleak? 

This collection of stark sayings by Jesus, appears to be for the purpose of preparing the Disciples to encounter many challenging things in their Christian ministry: slander, death, conflict, and familial strife to name but a few. It hardly builds an attractive picture of the abundant ‘life-in-all-its-fullness’ that Christ promises us when we follow him. 

But we are reminded today that a full life, does not mean an easy one. 

The Gospel is, by its nature, divisive. 

It preaches peace – but the call to peace is rarely received with open arms by tyrants. 

It preaches salvation – but many resist the challenge that such holistic healing demands of them. 

It preaches forgiveness – but we are often afraid to risk the vulnerability of honest or difficult conversations. 

It preaches love – but human relationships are tricky, and cannot depend upon the good grace of one party alone. 

The Gospel is divisive, because it is good; 
and good things are often hard things too. 

Us humans are contrary creatures.  

As Cranmer reminds us, we frequently leave undone ‘the things that we ought to have done’ and do precisely ‘the things we ought not to have done’. We are inconsistent, fail to live up to our own ideals; and tend towards the path of least resistance when given the choice. 

But, far from making our lives easier, this tendency in fact only serves to make human relationships harder; both on an inter-personal and even on an international scale. 
Without a commitment to do what is good and right and true, even when it is hard, the merest hint of difficulty, inconvenience or risk, can jeopardise the integrity of the very task that we set out to do in the first place.  

In the disciple’s case, this task was to go out like sheep into the midst of wolves, with very little provision indeed; to heal the sick, raise the dead and set the oppressed free – activities which are rarely without controversy and, as Jesus’ crucifixion proves, never without personal risk. 

And for many modern disciples beyond our shores, the prospect of such a ministry does still involve very real risks of persecution, violence, and even death. Sobering thoughts for those of us who worship so freely in our state-protected little corner of Christendom. 

It takes a great deal of fortitude to hold fast to the truth of the Gospel, 
and an even larger measure of courage to actually live it out. 

Like all good things, the life of faith places demands upon us. God never promised us that it would be easy… but he did promise that he would be with us, to the end of the age. 

Few of us will face the kind of stark circumstances that the Saints and Martyrs of ages past, or those today in other lands, may face. But, on the day when the intentions of our hearts are laid bare – and what is spoken in secret will be revealed – we too will be called to give account for the way that we have acknowledged or denied Christ through our words, actions, and treatment of others.  

We will be asked: Have we fed the hungry? Built others up in faith? Visited the sick and imprisoned? Sought the good of our neighbour and opened our own hearts to change and transformation? And have we returned to God to seek forgiveness and found the strength to try again, when we inevitably fail to follow-through on our good intentions?  
or have we preferred the anonymity of avoidance and the gloss of presenting a flawless public image, to being really real about ourselves and the challenges of living a godly life? 

Maybe it’s just me, but I find far more comfort in meeting Christians who are trying to be better Christians, than meeting Christians who seem just a little bit too ‘perfect’ already. 

It’s the same with parenting, with marriage, with friendship, with being a good employee, citizen, or any other role taken on under the unforgiving glare of public life…  

The ones who do it best are not the ones who pretend it is easy, or the ones who paint a Stepford version of the perfect life for others to see. The ones who do it best are the ones who know that holding fast to what is good, sometimes brings pain, inevitably involves compromise, and is (very much) a marathon, not a sprint. 

Holding on to Christian values in everyday life, and choosing to live them out, means that we will encounter opposition, misunderstanding, alienation and even persecution at times. And this is especially acute for those who lack acceptance from their community of origin because of their faith, and lack acceptance from the church for their cultural heritage too. Danny Zacharias puts it particularly powerfully as he reflects on his experience as a biblical scholar, and as an Indigenous man in Nova Scotia, saying: 

‘The painful division is sometimes twofold: We are sometimes at odds with our Indigenous communities because of our devotion to Jesus, while simultaneously being at odds with the church because we are proud of who we are as Indigenous people and seek to follow God the way he has made us’ 

This is a sentiment which is echoed by many other minoritised people and marginalised groups in the church: 
We are simultaneously too Christian for the world, but too worldly for the Church, and we can feel very much at risk of being torn apart by both. 

Being the authentic, glorious, but imperfect version of ourselves in any sphere, necessarily means taking the risk that we might be rejected. 

And it means finding, above all, the courage to retrieve our sense of self from the grip of public opinion, and place it firmly and intentionally back into the hands of God. Not because Jesus wants us to be at odds with our kin, but because good, healthy, human relationships are built upon the foundation of God’s love for us – not on whether we are accepted by others.  

The call is to find our belonging first in him.  

To find ourselves and our worth, first in him. 

And to prefer him above all other affiliations and demands, because unlike the imperfect vessels of both the church and wider society, God is always faithful, always just, and always more merciful to us than we are to ourselves. He knows exactly of what we are made – because he made us that way and he loves us into being more-fully ourselves before him. 

Sometimes following Jesus will mean refusing to follow the well-trodden path of social and familial expectation; just as much as it means refusing to simply follow our own desires without critical thought. 

Sometimes shaping our lives in the way of love will necessarily involve conflict, misunderstanding, and even rejection. 
But, if we have the courage to live out the Gospel, however steep and rugged the pathway ahead of us may be, we can be assured that the faith which we are called to share, will lead us ever-closer to God and to the fullness of life that he promises. 

Even when the call is hard, we can still trust that it is Good; Because God is good and his self-sacrificing, life-affirming offer of relationship, just as we are, is not only Good News for us, but it is Good News worth sharing. 

Let us pray: 
‘Father, hear the prayer we offer; not for ease that prayer shall be. 
But for strength that we may ever live our lives courageously.’ Amen.