The Sword of Jesus

A sermon preached by Father Dwight D. Duncan, ssc, Rector, St Matthias, Dallas, Texas
30 June 2002 - The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost VI (Year A, Proper 8)

Scripture: Matthew 10:34-42

You are now missing a sermon which you might prefer to the one you are about to get. At a church several miles due east of us, the pastor is preaching today on "following your bliss." I discovered that this past Thursday when I was returning to St Matthias' from a visit to one of our parishioners in hospital. As I drove past this church, I scanned its marquee, and there it was: Dr So-and-So preaching this Sunday on "following your bliss."

By the time I arrived at St Matthias', I had forgotten the marquee's words. Later, however, as I resumed my preparation for the attempt I must make this day to bring God's Word to bear upon our lives, the marquee's words returned with a vengeance. "Follow your bliss" locked in conflict with the opening words of Jesus in today's Gospel: "Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword."

"Follow your bliss" – surely, anyone who really loved me would encourage me in that path, wouldn't they? Given the turmoil and disquiet, the stresses and conflicts, the sadness and disappointments, the frustrations and anxieties often percolating in our lives and relationships ... surely someone who loved me would affirm my pursuit of that.

BUT there is that terrible word of Jesus, "Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword." IF Jesus and his Father love us, how can it be that God would either allow to us or afflict us with the prod and cutting of disturbance in our lives, in our relationships?

Well, think of this: When I was a child and not feeling well, I would put off, as long as possible, letting my parents know of it. I knew that if I went to them, they would do what they could to make me better. But I also knew that if I didn't get better soon, they'd take me to Dr Hightower, my pediatrician. I could not get what I wanted from my parents without possibly getting more than I wanted. I wanted only immediate relief from pain. They, and Dr Hightower, wanted me completely well.

I knew what it meant if Dr Hightower got involved. He didn't just check the particular complaint. He stripped you down and checked everything, which meant he might find something else which needed fixing. And Dr Hightower believed in getting the healing process started as quickly as possible, which often meant the administration of a shot.

I hated needles. I hated them so much I would run naked through Dr Hightower's two-story office, up and down the stairs, screaming at the top of my lungs with a nurse in hot pursuit, and finally, when caught, had to be held down on the examining table for the injection by two nurses.

Years later when I was a college student, I learned how notorious I was for this behavior. At a cocktail party, I met a lovely girl from my hometown who asked me if I still ran naked through a doctor's office to avoid a shot. She told me if I did, she'd like to go with me at my next doctor's visit. I don't know whether that was a compliment or an interest in the bizarre! I wasn't about to ask.

Well, if I may put it this way – and I think I may – God is like Dr Hightower. If you give him an inch, he will take a mile. You and I go to God seeking his help with some particular thing which is spoiling our lives or some particular sin of which we are ashamed. That is all we wish him to address and we would appreciate it – "Thank you very much, God" – if he'd keep his ministrations limited to that for which we've come to him.

Well, God will help us out, all right. But he will not stop there. Once you go to God, you're in for the full treatment. Because God is not about making us feel better. He is about making us totally well ... making us everything he created us to be which we, by sin, have so spoiled in ourselves and our world.

Our fellow Anglican, C. S. Lewis, who had such profound insight into the mysteries of God, put this well. In a passage of his book Mere Christianity, he writes that Jesus' word to us is this:

"Whatever suffering it may cost you in your earthly life, whatever inconceivable purification it may cost you after death, whatever it costs Me, I will never rest, nor let you rest, until you are literally perfect – until my Father can say without reservation that He is well pleased with you, as He said He was well pleased with Me. This I can do and will do. But I will not do anything less."

Lewis properly concluded that there is no power in the whole universe which can prevent God from taking us to this goal, except one. And that one power is ourselves. If we are unwilling to collaborate with God in becoming whole, healthy people, God will not do it for us.

It is precisely because God loves us so much and so truly that this is his way with us. True love seeks only and always the beloved's highest good, the beloved's true well-being, whatever the cost may be to everyone involved, both the lover and the beloved.

Think, dear ones: What IS our highest good, what IS our true well-being? Surely none of those things which may be contained, at any moment, in our notion of "bliss": monetary security, fame, adulation, possessions, the "right" connections, a peaceful life and relationships, or anything else after which we spend so much effort, energy and time running. All these things we lose as we descend into death, if we have not already lost them before.

Surely someone who truly loves us would not expend their energy to secure for us only things that, like our bodies, are dying. If you love someone who has, as do we, the possibility of eternity – an eternity of joy, glory, and splendor, with him who is Joy, Glory and Splendor itself ... And if what it takes to enter such an eternity is that one be able to bear its profound weight ... THEN the one who loves us, truly loves us, will do whatever it takes, send or allow to us whatever he must, to secure that future for us.

Therefore, beloved, let us give most full and hearty thanks that the Father has sent his Son to us with a sword in his hand. A sword to bar our way from just "following our bliss." ... A sword which can prod us toward heaven and into those things we must do to become capable of the heavenly life ... A sword which, like a surgeon's scalpel, can cut out whatever dis-ease might send us to hell. GOD, you see, IS VERY GOOD.


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