Dig Deeper into Sunday’s Gospel: Read Luke 12:49–53
When I was twenty-one, I was newly returned to the Church and on fire for the Lord. It was an amazing, beautiful, and exciting chapter of my faith. But I think in many ways, if I'm being honest, I was insufferable for my family to be around. Not because my family wasn't Catholic, but because what I often thought was zeal and piety was really just judgment, pridefulness, and scrupulosity.
One night, during a college break, my younger sister and I were home, sharing our childhood bedroom, when we got into an argument. I don't even remember what it was about, just that she disagreed with a decision I was making. As I turned out the light, I haughtily and self-righteously declared, "Blessed are the persecuted."
Oh, the drama! Oh, the division.
I wish I were making that story up. I cringe as I write it. Let me tell you, friends, if you're hoping to draw people closer to Christ, that is not the way to do it.
Thankfully, age, life experience, and the Holy Spirit have all refined me over time. And I trust they will continue to do so.
I've read this Sunday's gospel before. I've heard sermons on it. And I've been consoled and encouraged by the fact that following Christ will result in conflict; that the world will hate His followers because it hated Him first (John 15:18–20). As a young college student choosing a path that differed significantly from many of my peers, I especially needed those reminders.
The truth is, sometimes it feels good to be the persecuted one. There's a sort of comfort that comes from believing the reason there's conflict or division in your life is not through your own shortcomings, but because you're misunderstood or rejected for your love of Christ. There's even a nobility and honor that come with that life, at least when looked at through the eyes of faith.
But I've learned there's another side of the story: not all conflict means I'm suffering for the sake of the gospel. Sometimes you and I—because of our sin, our pride, our unhealed wounds—can actually misrepresent the gospel and cause division. Not because we're walking the narrow way so perfectly that others can't bear it, but because we're still looking for it ourselves; we're still learning all that it entails.
In my current season of life, I need this reminder more than ever.
I need to remember that there are still remnants of this world that I'm clinging to, precious sins I'm not ready to let go of, virtues I'm not particularly interested in cultivating further, and excuses I find too convenient. Those attachments are causing division in my family. They are distorting the love of God that I quite desperately want my family to encounter.
I need the reminder that my soul, like anyone else's, first needs to be set ablaze by the purifying fire of Christ, even if that process is painful.
Refiner, a worship song by Maverick City, puts into words where my heart's been lately:
You’re a fire.
The refiner.
I wanna be consumed.
I wanna be tried by fire,
Purified.
You take whatever you desire,
Lord here’s my life.
It's a bold prayer, but I believe it's the type of prayer that helps us get to heaven.
Jesus tells His disciples, “I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing! ... Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division” (Luke 12:49,51).
He's not just speaking about the world, about "others." He's speaking about our hearts, the divisions that exist within them, and the divisions we are responsible for causing. May we have the courage to rid ourselves of the burden of sin, fix our eyes on Jesus, not the world, and run the race set before us (Hebrews 12:1–2).
Food for thought or journaling ...
What area of your heart is divided? Where do you need the refining fires of our Lord?
Lord, refine me, try me by Your fire, set my heart ablaze. May Your purification divide humility from pride, mercy from judgment, surrender from control, obedience from independence, rest from laziness, and authenticity from perfectionism. Amen.
