a prescribed fire (a sermon on Luke 12:49-56)

As a college student, I worked for two summers as a lifeguard and counselor at a Lutheran camp in northern Florida. One of the camp activities that cabins could choose during the week was a “hayless hayride” where we sat together in a wagon (with no hay!) while a tractor pulled us around on a tour of just a portion of the camp’s 350 acres. As we bumped along the trails, we’d point out a variety of flora and fauna to the campers - evidence of deer trails, wild blueberry bushes, the sound of woodpeckers, the delicate gray Spanish moss hanging down from the tree branches, and the charred trunks of palm trees.

The evidence of fire always brought out concern among the campers. Had there been a fire? How did it start? Did anyone get hurt? Were the animals and plants okay?

Photo by Nicole Geri on Unsplash

Their concern turned very quickly to surprise as we told them that there certainly had been a fire, and, in fact, it had been set on purpose - no, not arson, but what’s called a “controlled burn” or “prescribed fire”.

Fire is actually a really important ingredient in ecosystems. Fire has the benefit of clearing away dead brush in a way that returns nutrients to the soil and allows for plants to flourish. It’s used to control disease in pine trees and other plants, and to clear away dry brush that might otherwise build up and act as fuel for a larger, uncontrolled forest fire. Rather than destroy everything in its path, a prescribed fire uses destruction and loss to bring about increased growth and flourishing for the entire ecosystem.

In Jeremiah we hear, “Is not my word like fire, says the Lord, and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?” And again, Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel reading: “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” But what kind of fire is it? The fire God brings is not a blazing inferno that totally decimates everything in its path. No, it’s a prescribed fire, meant to clear away the disease, dead brush, and overgrown paths that hinder our ability to participate in the mission of God.

This purifying and refining process is painful, sure. It results in division and conflict, even or especially among those who are closest to one another. It makes us uncomfortable, forces us to come face to face with those things we’d rather hide. But the end result isn’t total destruction, but rather growth and flourishing for the entire ecosystem, for the entire Body of Christ.

I wonder what those things are that need to be burned away?

What diseases must be eradicated?

What overgrown, dry brush needs to be removed so that all of us can flourish and thrive?

What kinds of things are not compatible with life in the kingdom of God?

Idolatry and greed, white supremacy and sexism, cruelty and abuse, disdain for those beloveds of God who are not like us - what else is on the list? What must be burned away? Do we trust God to do this work? Can we sit with the discomfort and disruption and division that come about as a result? Or would we rather things stay exactly as they are?

It often seems that conflict and division are seen as bad words in the church today. Ruled by fear and a mindset of scarcity as we face the reality of shrinking attendance, all too often our response to the threat of conflict and division is avoidance, as we echo the refrain, “But what if people leave?!”

Our fear of division has the power to hold us hostage, hindering us from following God’s call to care for those on the margins, to love our neighbor, to proclaim the good news of God’s grace, freely and abundantly given. I wonder what would happen, though, if, instead of asking, “What if people leave?” we ask, “What new growth may come about as a result of this decision? Who needs to hear this good news? Who might feel welcome to join us because of this proclamation?”

It’s not always easy to hear what God is calling us toward. There are competing voices, layers of tradition to sift through, personal preferences we hold that can get in the way. We need the reminder to pray for God’s will to be done, and not our own. Though it is uncomfortable, though it often results in loss, the fire that God kindles burns through those things that are blocking our way and hindering our growth, so that new life and flourishing may result.

Surprising as it may sound, it is good news for us that Jesus is divisive. Good news! The saving love of Jesus divides us from sin, divides us from death, divides us from those things that separate us from God and our neighbor. And then, having been divided, in the waters of baptism and around the table we are united as the Body of Christ. Brought together across time and space with the cross of Christ at our center we experience the real peace, life, and flourishing that only God can give.

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