Hebrews 11:29-12:2

Luke 12:49-56

In the book the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe Jesus is represented by a Lion by the name of Aslan. The four children who are finally introduced to Aslan by Mr. and Mrs. Beaver are not quite sure they want to meet him. Mr. Beaver says to them:

Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death

And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.
You'll understand when you see him."

"But shall we see him?" asked Susan.

"Why, Daughter of Eve, that's what I brought you here for. I'm to lead you where you shall meet him," said Mr. Beaver.
"Is--is he a man?" asked Lucy.

"Aslan a man!" said Mr. Beaver sternly. "Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion--THE Lion, the great Lion."

"Ooh!" said Susan, "I'd thought he was a man. Is he--quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."

"That you will, dearie, and no mistake," said Mrs. Beaver, "if anyone can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly."

"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy.

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver. "Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? "Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

Do we feel safe with Jesus? “I came to bring fire to the earth”, he said. “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” These are frightening words. Do we feel safe when we hear them? What kind of Christ are we following?

He is a God who questions our loyalties. In a society which says, “Nothing comes before my family,” he asks us “Nothing?” To the deepest instincts in us which rightly long to see the best for our children, he has the gut-wrenching audacity to remind us that even relationships forged by blood do not take priority over our relationship with him. There is something jealous about it, something all-encompassing. Is this a Jesus we could describe as safe?

At the beginning of one college class a few years ago, a college professor read a letter that a parent had written to a government official. The parent complained that his son, who had been given every advantage, who had gone to all the right schools, who was on his way to a promising career as a lawyer, had got involved with a strange religious sect. Members of this sect now control his son's every move. They had cut him off from his friends and even his family. They had taken all of his money. The father asked the government official to do something about this dangerous religious group.

After reading this letter, the professor asked his students to guess which religious group the father was writing about. Some said the Moonies. Some said satanic cults. Some said the Jehovah Witnesses. Then the professor explained that what he read was composed of excerpts from letters written in the third century to Roman officials complaining about a group known as Christians.

Loyalty to Christ can split families. Of course, God loves families, he loves good relationships-but not at the expense of our loyalty to him. Is this a safe religion? Consider your other family, writes Paul to the Hebrews, in many ways your real family. Those who were tortured, those who refused to accept release, those who suffered mocking, flogging, chains and imprisonment. Those who were killed, persecuted, tormented, our great cloud of witnesses who surround us. Was it safe for them to be Christians?

“I have come to bring fire”, said Jesus. Fire which purifies, which reveals, which destroys. Fire which licks at the sin that sticks so closely. Fire which wants to eat away at the parts of you you thought were covered, which as you kneel to receive my body and my blood may light up things which made your knees knock. Fire which may ask you to change forever. Fire is not safe.

And I have come to bring a sword, a sword which demands the wrong will be right. It is sword of truth, and as we know truth hurts, both ourselves and the world. This is a sword which can make us seem like trouble makers if we live as a prophetic community. For too long there is a side to the church that has been seen as judgemental about trivial things, and so people have not easily found grace when they have entered church communities. But as Christians we stand in a long tradition of those who have been proud and able to take up issues of justice and peace and to pay the personal cost of doing so. Taking up a sword is not safe.

It is not safe. He is not safe, but he is good. He asks us to place our loyalty with him, to be frightening in our commitment. But he does so because he knows he is our highest good, our destiny, our purpose, and maker, and that our hearts are restless, without true peace, until they find themselves in him. He promises to bring fire to our lives. Again this is not safe, but it is good. The amazing thing about a forest fire, which can lay waste to the earth is that in a matter of days new shoots will appear, greater growth, more life. That is what he desires for us. And he asks us to take up the sword of truth, knowing that we ourselves may have to share its pain. But he does so as one who has felt it's keen edge himself, who has endured the fire. He did not live in safety.

During WWII, a Jewish family named Rosenberg was confined to a concentration camp where prisoners could escape the gas ovens as long as they could work. A young boy in the family was partially disabled from birth and could not carry a full workload. The parents were separated during the day by their separate work responsibilities, so they would hasten in the evenings to check on the condition of each family member. One evening the father's worse fears were realized. He could not spot his disabled boy. Then he saw his older son weeping in a corner. The son told the father that the disabled boy was taken to the gas chambers because he could no longer work. The father asked: But where is your mother? The older boy told how his little brother
was afraid to go and clung to his mother, who said, "Don't cry. I'll go with you and hold you close." And she did.

And so does Christ. Where we are asked to make sacrifices, to radically place him first, to endure the pain of discipleship, to hold the sword of truth, we do so holding and looking to the Jesus who has already been there. "If anyone can appear before Jesus without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly." He is not safe, but he is good. That is why we can run the race, never alone, but being held close to Christ.

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