10th Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 15 Year C – Mark Winward
Jesus said, Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division… [families] will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law” – Luke 12:51, 53 NRSV
Today’s Gospel presents some of Jesus’ harshest words—verses that might not be most preachers’ first choice. It has always frustrated me that when a reading contains something difficult to hear, hard to believe, or seemingly incomprehensible—and the preacher dodges it. But that’s exactly what the preacher should be addressing. So it is in that place we find ourselves with today’s Gospel reading.
If we were to list ten of the hardest sayings in the Gospels, today’s passage would undoubtedly make the list. Jesus’ declaration that He came to bring fire, a distressing baptism, and division—even within families—are hardly comforting words. Quite frankly, we’d rather imagine Jesus as a peacemaker than as a home breaker. And it hardly helps to dismiss these sayings as “not authentic to Jesus.” They remain in the Bible—Scripture that the Church, through the ages, felt led to include in the canon.
My hermeneutic—that is, my approach to interpreting Scripture—is to ask: What does the text say? What did it mean? And what does it mean to me? It’s been said that “a text without a context is a pretext.” Be wary of any preacher who quotes multiple verses without considering their surrounding context. Try reading an entire book of the New Testament in one sitting—just as the early Church intended—and you’ll discover a very different perspective.
The second step is to ask what the text meant to its first hearers—real communities, in specific cultural contexts, immersed in a world far removed from ours. Only after allowing the text to speak in its own voice are we ready to ask, What does it mean to me? If we start with that last question, we risk shaping faith into our own image rather than letting it shape us.
In America, we often take religious freedom for granted. Many of us rarely think about it. Yet even today—in our world—choosing to follow Jesus can divide families. Ask a Jewish believer in Jesus, and you may hear a painful story. Messianic Jewish ministries report that many new believers are cut off completely, treated as though they never existed. In parts of the Muslim world, Christianity is tolerated… up to a point. But conversion from Islam? In many countries, it remains a capital crime. And in parts of Asia, families may reject converts entirely, treating them as if they were already dead.
I saw this firsthand while deployed with the Marines to Helmand Province in 2011. The Marines had initiated a program called Voices of Religious Tolerance, meant to demonstrate to Afghans we were not there to destroy their faith or culture. We invited mullahs from across the region to the provincial capital—nearly 500 men sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor of a space no larger than our parish hall. While most Americans there had no interpreters, I was one of the few present with my own translator.
Our first speaker, a Muslim U.S. Navy chaplain, spoke in Arabic and closely followed our talking points. Many mullahs—some unable to read Arabic—were astonished to hear an American who could not only read the language of The Book but fluently speak it. Then the senior chaplain of the Jordanian military, a coalition partner, took the podium. Speaking in Arabic, he told the mullahs that the Taliban were “bad guys”—because they kill Muslims. Then, representing Voices of Religious Tolerance, he said: “According to the Holy Koran, there are only three reasons a Muslim can kill another: if a Muslim kills another Muslim, you can kill him; if a Muslim is homosexual, you can kill him; if a Muslim converts to another religion, you can kill him. But those are the only reasons you can kill a fellow Muslim.” At that, he was enthusiastically applauded by the gathering. So much for Religious Tolerance…
Even today, in many Muslim-majority countries, Jews and Christians are tolerated as People of the Book—but conversion from Islam is still punishable by death. As of 2025, the death penalty for apostasy remains on the books in Afghanistan, Brunei, Iran, Mauritania, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Sudan, the United Arab Emirates, and Yemen. While not all enforce the law, harassment, imprisonment, and civil penalties remain common.
In our churches, we often downplay the cost of discipleship. Yet in much of the world, Christianity is still scandalous. It always has been. In the early Church, Christians weren’t executed simply for worshiping Jesus—they were condemned because they worshiped only Him, rejecting Rome’s gods. Rome could have added Jesus to its pantheon of foreign deities. But the Gospel’s central claim—that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and that no one comes to the Father except through Him—was offensive then and remains so now.
Our culture often reshapes Jesus into a figure easier to accept: the ultimate peacemaker, avoiding confrontation, never speaking of judgment, only preaching love and tolerance. We hear of “Jesus the sage,” “Jesus the religious genius,” “Jesus the social revolutionary.” Indeed, He was wise, deeply spiritual, and in many ways revolutionary. But none of those portraits explain why He was crucified, why He drew such opposition, or why His movement still transforms the world.
A witty teacher would not have been executed during Passover. A gentle spiritual genius would not have been nailed to a cross. And a purely political revolutionary might have been killed, but would not have birthed a global Church centered on Himself rather than politics. These “safe” portraits fail to match the Jesus of the Gospels.
Luke’s passage challenges us to see the real Jesus—the one who brings division, who forces choices not just about how we live but about who He is and what He means in God’s plan. He is the way into relationship with the Father. That truth unsettled people then, and it unsettles people now. Jesus’ call is not “peace at any price.” It is a summons that cuts to the heart, dividing those who will follow from those who will turn away. It is not about merely knowing about God—it is about knowing Him personally, walking in His ways, and letting His truth redefine every part of our lives. That truth is not always welcome. In our culture, it may cost you relationships, status, or comfort. But the call remains: build your life on the unshakable reality that ultimate truth is found not in shifting political trends or cultural fashions, but in Christ alone. He is our Redeemer, our hope, and our foundation. And when we stand on Him, we may not find the world’s applause—but we will find life that cannot be taken away.