I have not come to bring peace, but a sword

Matthew 10:24-39

“A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household! “So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. 

“Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword!" These are truly challenging words from Jesus, especially for those of us trying to follow in his footsteps, trying to live in the way that Jesus has taught us. Jesus goes on to describe conflict not between people distant from each other, but within a family: for those who take up their cross and follow Christ, "one's foes will be members of one's own household".

In these times of lockdown especially, a part of me longs for the comfort and security of familiar things: food and clothing and a living space that I'm used to, a familiar church community, friends and family. My close relationships are my greatest sources of joy, peace and consolation. And yet, if I imagine these sources of security as a smooth piece of paper, spacious and inviting, Jesus seems to take that piece of paper (if I will let him) and crumple it up into a ball! There's a part of me crying out - don't do that, I'll never be able to straighten it again!

As I react in that way, I notice my instinct to cling on to my security, to hold that piece of paper to myself and not allow it to become crumpled in any way. If that is my image of peace - a comfortable life that ignores anything beyond my own satisfaction - it surely must be disrupted, as difficult and challenging as that may be. For me, this disruption doesn't mean that my comforts are bad in themselves - it represents a change in how I approach them. One of the most difficult things for me to do during this time of pandemic, when I've felt under stress in so many ways, is to approach my life with open hands: to resist the urge to cling to what feels comfortable and banish what feels uncomfortable. True peace, for me, looks like the disruption of letting go, of 'losing' my life defined by comforts and securities, of opening my hands to allow God to freely give and to take away, letting God crumple my piece of paper into a ball and, in time, straighten it out again.

If I open my hands, the people I love the most become not possessions to cling onto, but gifts to be thankful for - even when my relationships with them are going through difficult times. Not only that, but my hands are also free to receive from unexpected people and places, and to give back to the world. It is a reminder for me to be attentive to the two sparrows sold for a penny, to things as seemingly insignificant as a hair on someone's head - a leaf by the side of the road perhaps, or a kind word - which are full of God's grace. This is surely an uncovering of the covered things of the world, a removal of the blankets of security which blind us to the realities of life.

This removal of our security blankets is not something we can achieve ourselves, by our own efforts. We need God's grace in this task, which is perhaps more urgent now than ever before. We are beginning to emerge slowly from lockdown here in the UK, after months of physical distancing from one another. The government recently announced rules around 'support bubbles' which enable more of us to be in physical contact with one another. More non-urgent retail is opening, and more children are going to school. But I wonder how these past few months of separation have affected our relationships with one another. Have they caused us to place even greater importance on people within our 'households' or 'bubbles' at the expense of our wider society and our wider world? Has this time of lockdown changed how we relate to the other securities we may have in our lives: our jobs, money or other possessions? 

The answers to these questions will be different for each of us. But as we emerge into a new post-lockdown world, perhaps it's worth reflecting on how we relate to the securities of our lives. In what ways has the pandemic closed our hands into fists, and in what ways has it opened them out? In what ways are we clutching our precious things closer to our chests, and in what ways are we now prepared to place them out in the open for God to do with them as God pleases?

Perhaps the disruption that the pandemic has brought is actually an advantage here, as it brings the securities of our lives into sharp relief. However, this revelation of the landscape of our hearts, and even the letting go itself, is not the end of our journey of discipleship. We are able to let go, by God's grace, because there is something underneath us. There is an eternal ground of our being, wider and deeper and broader than any of our possessions, which is the love of God. Perhaps the greatest tragedy of our clinging is that it means we are not properly able to experience this love, which saturates our world and every aspect of our lives. Here, at last, is our true security - although paradoxically it does not shore us up from the suffering of the world but makes us more open and vulnerable to it. Here is the place where we may finally rest in safety, where we may find the courage that we need to keep our hands open.

If we can manage to let go of everything we think we need, we may find that what we were yearning for has in fact been always with us.