Gut Renovation: Why Starting Life From Scratch Is Such Difficult Work

Luke 12:49-56

It’s late August, and here we are.  You had other options, of course, but you made it to church for worship.  You could have brunched, or golfed, or fished, or slept, or read a good book, or watched something on Netflix, but no, you chose to be here.  We might even imagine some of our friends and family members, taking advantage of these last weeks of summer to travel and relax.

But we’re here.  And the gospel reading from Luke sets before us a Jesus who seems to have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed.  This is not the Jesus who heals with the gentle touch of his hands.  This is not the Jesus who gathers the little children to bless them.  This is not even the Jesus from last week’s gospel reading, who addresses us as his “little flock,” saying, “Don’t be afraid, little flock, for your father has been pleased to give you the kingdom.”

In some kind of Jekyll & Hyde routine, the Jesus in this week’s reading sounds barbed, sharp, rude, embattled, harsh.  “I have come to bring fire on the earth.”  Why is he talking this way?  “Do you think I came to bring peace on earth?  No, I tell you, but division.”  I liked it better when I was part of his “little flock,” didn’t you?

Luke’s gospel begins and ends with a word of “peace.”  So what are we to make of this passage where Jesus claims to bring not peace but fire and division?

Sometimes we imagine “peace” as the comfortable, easy-going, laid-back way we hope to “get along” with others. But that’s basically conflict-avoidance and not really peace.  The “peace” that Jesus announces creates as much conflict as it resolves.  When you announce that there is a new kingdom arriving, a new order, a new arrangement, a new way of designing life and organizing the distribution of wealth, goods, services, value, and honor, that vision will be threatening to many of us. 

Jesus’ call for peace is a call for change in both the personal and the public arenas of life.  He enacts the role of peacemaker not by keeping things the same, but instead by calling into question the way things are currently arranged.  This is why those responsible for the continuation of the Jewish religious institutions, those with political power, and those with wealth feared him.  They liked the rules of the game. And here comes Jesus, announcing that the rules of the game are unjust, unmerciful, and uncompassionate.

Jesus’ call to another set of values, another set of habits and relationships – this will be divisive.  Many of us are invested in keeping things the same.  We like the way things work, either because it benefits us directly or because we find comfort in the familiarity it provides us.

So the “peace” that Jesus offers to the world will be a fiery peace, a divisive peace.  But it’s not as if his goal was to set family members against one another.  Instead, he is warning us that his invitation to a new allegiance to God’s kingdom will require a re-assessment of anything else that we had put in first place. 

Jesus’ story about the Prodigal Son is, in many ways, a heart-warming story about reconciliation within a family.  The younger son leaves and wastes his life, but finally returns to his senses, and returns home to a patient, compassionate, and merciful father who runs to embrace him.  But this act of compassionate forgiveness and generous welcome angered the older brother, who refused to join the feast.  So there you have a little picture of the how even the most beautiful embrace between former enemies can cause division.  There will always be some who are angry that the field has shifted, that the world has turned in a new direction, that the former walls between enemies have been dismantled.

The new life that Jesus offers to us is kind of like a build from scratch kit.  It’s free if you want it.  But it’s quite laborious to receive it, because you will have to start all over.  And for people like us with all kinds of already existing commitments, this is hard.  One way to imagine our way into the new lives Jesus wants for us is to consider something like a renovation project.

I’ve been thinking about renovation because this has been the summer of remodeling and fixing.  At home, we’re in the middle of several yard projects, plus Steph refinished our kitchen cabinets this summer and now we’re stripping and refinishing our kitchen table. 

Here at the church we’re starting renovations at the manse; we’re discussing how best to fix some water problems coming from the tower and some of the flat roof sections; plus we’ve been rewiring the place since we got fiber internet and have been installing this new media system.

Our friends at the Presbyterian Church in Nevada are also embarking on some unexpected renovation.  Because their pastor of 39 years retired earlier this summer, I’m helping in this transitional time by moderating their Session.  This past week I showed up, expecting for us to talk about how the Presbytery can support them and help them as they begin the process of calling an interim pastor.  But it turns out that a stool in their fellowship area backed up and overflowed.  The damage required them to tear out the floors and drywall in a large area, engage a company to do asbestos abatement, and rebuild their church kitchen.

It’s dangerous to watch too much HGTV.  It will fill you with renovation ideas you have neither the skills nor the money to accomplish.  Take, for example, the show “Love It or List It.”  Here’s how it works.  Someone is dissatisfied with their current house.  There’s something wrong with it.  It’s too small.  Or there aren’t enough bedrooms or bathrooms.  Or the kitchen is closed in.  Or the layout doesn’t work.  Or the closets are in the wrong place.  Or the yard is too small.  You get the picture.  This house just isn’t working.  And so, they need something different. 

But the brilliant twist to this show is that the family is going to have two options.  First, they will be shown several houses that have everything they need and meets their budget.  Second, their current home will undergo a massive renovation to incorporate everything they thought was lacking.  And they’ll have to choose between “loving” their newly renovated house and “listing” it so that they can buy a different house.

Of course, to ratchet up the drama, one host specializes in renovating the current home to bring it into line with their dreams and another host specializes in showing them homes that already have all the things on their wish list.  One spouse takes the role of wanting to move, and the other spouse takes the role of hoping they can stay put.  Somehow, by the end of the episode, you really care about what they decide to do!

But that show, like many of the renovation and remodeling shows on HGTV, assumes that there is plenty of money, and that all the changes being considered are an upgrade.  If we consider Jesus’ invitation to a new way of life, we have to consider the tension that for us to get the life we’ve always wanted, we’ll have to tear out some of the familiar features that we love and cherish – things we’ve worked hard to build, things that we assumed we could keep forever. 

Let’s take the home renovation metaphor one step further.  If we’re talking about a house that is in complete shambles, ugly and unappealing in every respect, then imagining a gut renovation isn’t such a big deal.  But if we’re talking about renovating a home that you love, that you’ve designed yourself, that has many features that you can’t dream of parting with, then imagining a gut renovation is more difficult. 

This message might appear harsh and difficult.  But it can also be encouraging.  Those of you whose faith journey has required you to part ways with your parents or family traditions can feel the support of Jesus’ honest description of how hard that will be.  Those of you who have done the difficult work of moving out in new directions – different than your family’s expectations and your family’s habits - can hear today a confirming word.  You have done hard work in crafting a new life with God’s help, and Jesus is with you.

I have trouble knowing how to welcome this harsh, divisive, judgmental Jesus into my life.  Maybe you can identify with me.  I’ve lived long enough to figure out how to survive.  I know the basic rules of the game.  And I can play by them well enough.  And I’m far enough in that I don’t really want to start over.  I’ve come to some conclusions about people, about life, about work, and about politics.  What I wish I could have is a smaller Jesus, the kind of Jesus that I could simply add on to these other things I’ve already come to believe.  That way, Jesus could be kind of a nice little attachment to the little machine of a life I’ve already got running. 

The problem with this scenario is that he refuses to be my little add-on Jesus.  He won’t join my team nor will he integrate smoothly into my system.  He is here before me, asking me to make a decision.  Do I want to keep the world I know?  Or will I let him dismantle it with me, trusting that what gets built in the ruins of the old world will be better?  Do I want to place my safe bet on keeping things the same?  Or do I want to take the risk of a life that trafficks in the utterly new and unexpected? 

There is good news in this sharp warning.  Jesus refuses to be one more decoration we add to our already-built lives.  He demands that we clear things away so that we can build something new.  While this feels threatening to our need for comfort and familiarity, it’s simply the cost of the exciting adventure called "discipleship."  We hand over the world we know in order to receive back a whole new world.