(Luke 12:49–56)

When most of us think about fire, our first instinct is to see it as something dangerous, destructive, or even terrifying. Fire consumes, destroys, and often leaves nothing but ashes behind. Yet, throughout Scripture, fire is also one of the most powerful and consistent symbols of God’s presence. Moses encountered God in the burning bush that was not consumed. The people of Israel was guided through the wilderness by a pillar of fire that assured them of God’s nearness. At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit descended upon the disciples as tongues of fire, igniting the birth of the church. So, when Jesus declares in Luke 12:49, “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” He is not speaking of mere destruction. Rather, He is announcing that His mission is to bring the presence of God into the world in a way that cannot be ignored. God’s presence is never neutral. It is living and active; it purifies, judges, and transforms. This divine fire brings repentance, demands a change of direction, and brings renewal of life.

The first effect of God’s fire is its call to repentance. Just as fire reveals and purifies precious metal by burning away impurities, so too does the presence of God reveal what is false within us. When Christ draws near, our selfishness, pride, and sin come into the light. This is why John the Baptist declared, “I baptize you with water, but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” Repentance is not simply an option in the Christian life; it is the natural response to encountering the holy fire of God. Without repentance, we remain in darkness, clinging to habits and desires that pull us away from God. But when we confess our sins and open our hearts to His cleansing fire, something remarkable happens—we are made new. Repentance allows the fire of Christ to burn away the parts of our lives that do not belong, freeing us to live more fully in His grace.

Yet repentance is only the beginning. God’s fire does not simply call us to feel sorry for our sins; it demands a change of direction. The presence of Christ disrupts our routines and challenges our complacency. Jesus Himself warns in this passage that His coming will not maintain the status quo but will even divide families and unsettle old ways of living. That is because His fire compels us to choose: will we live for ourselves and the comforts of the world, or will we follow Him wherever He leads? This change of direction is not always easy. It may mean leaving behind old habits, confronting injustices, or stepping into unfamiliar callings. But it is also where life truly begins. Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus who exclaimed, “Were not our hearts burning within us as He opened the Scriptures to us?” we find that God’s fire kindles passion, courage, and love within us. It stirs us to walk in a new way, guided by His Spirit rather than our own desires.

Finally, God’s fire does not only expose and disrupt; it also renews. In nature, fire clears away dead growth so that new life can take root. In the same way, the fire of God’s presence burns away what hinders us so that we may flourish in His Spirit. Renewal means more than survival—it is the gift of transformation. The Holy Spirit empowers us with wisdom, courage, and strength to live as witnesses of Christ’s kingdom. History shows that this fire has never been extinguished, even through centuries of persecution, trial, and change. Ordinary men and women, touched by the fire of God’s presence, have become extraordinary instruments of hope, compassion, and justice. Renewal through God’s fire is not just about individual hearts; it is about the ongoing vitality of the church, which remains alive because God continues to kindle His presence within it.

In conclusion, when Jesus says He came to bring fire to the earth, He is declaring His desire to kindle the very presence of God in our midst. That fire calls us to repentance, so that we may be cleansed of sin. It demands a change of direction, so that our lives align with God’s will rather than our own. And it brings renewal, empowering us to live with the boldness and joy of the Spirit. But the fire of God’s presence is not something we can keep at arm’s length. It is not comfortable, and it often requires us to change in ways we would not choose on our own. The question we face is simple: will we let the fire of Christ burn in us? Will we allow it to purify, guide, and renew us until His kingdom comes in all its fullness? May we have the courage to answer yes—and may our hearts be set ablaze with the fire of God’s presence. 

Some promises in Scripture almost sound too good to be true — but this one comes directly from the mouth of Jesus:

“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”
(Luke 12:32, NRSV)

Imagine hearing that for the very first time. The Creator of the universe delights to give you His kingdom. Not rent it to you. Not loan it to you for a trial period. Not dangle it above your head until you prove yourself worthy. No — He gives it.

But that raises an important question: What exactly is the Kingdom of God? And if God has truly given it to us, how should that shape the way we live?

1. The Kingdom Is God’s Reign, Not Just a Place

When we hear the word kingdom, our imagination often fills with castles, walls, thrones, and banners fluttering in the wind. But in Scripture, the “Kingdom of God” is not primarily about a location. It’s about God’s rule and reign. It’s the reality of God being in charge.

Jesus makes this clear in Luke 17:21, when He says, “The kingdom of God is among you.” He wasn’t pointing to a geographic spot on a map. He was pointing to His own ministry — to the healing of the sick, the forgiving of sins, the welcoming of the outcast, the confronting of injustice. Every time God’s will is done on earth, the Kingdom is breaking in.

That means the Kingdom is not just about going to heaven when we die. It’s about God’s way being lived out here and now. Wherever God’s justice, mercy, and truth are made visible, the Kingdom is present.

2. The Kingdom Is a Gift, Not an Achievement

Jesus tells His disciples, “It is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” This is vital: the Kingdom is not something we earn. We don’t buy our way in. We don’t collect enough “spiritual points” to gain entry. It is given freely because it is in God’s nature to give good things to His children.

And because it’s a gift, it’s not fragile. It’s not something we must fear losing if we stumble. God’s generosity is not dependent on our perfection. That’s why Jesus begins with the words, “Do not be afraid.” Fear is the natural reflex of people who think everything depends on them. But the Kingdom flows from God’s joy, not our merit.

3. The Kingdom Is Already Here, but Not Yet Fully

Theologians often describe the Kingdom as “already and not yet.”

• Already: In Jesus, the Kingdom has arrived. The sick are healed, sinners are forgiven, the poor hear good news. God’s reign has already broken into the world.

• Not yet: We still await the day when the Kingdom will come in fullness — when God will wipe away every tear, when death and pain will be no more (Revelation 21).

We live in this in-between time. Our calling is to live now as citizens of the Kingdom, even though we still walk in a world that plays by very different rules.

4. The Kingdom Reorders Our Treasures

Right after verse 32, Jesus says: “Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

The Kingdom changes our value system. If God’s Kingdom is our greatest treasure, our heart will naturally follow that treasure. Kingdom citizens measure wealth not by what they keep, but by what they give. In God’s Kingdom, love is the currency, mercy is the investment, and justice is the return.

5. Living in the Kingdom Today

If the Kingdom is here and it’s God’s gift, then we are called to live like Kingdom people right now. That means:

• Choosing forgiveness over grudges.

• Serving before seeking status.

• Welcoming strangers as if they were Christ Himself.

• Practicing generosity as if our security comes from God, not our bank account.

These aren’t “extra credit” acts for super-Christians. They are the daily habits of people who know the King and trust His reign.

Conclusion

Jesus’ words in Luke 12:32 are tender: “Little flock.” He knows we are small, vulnerable, and sometimes fearful. But He also knows the strength of the Shepherd and the generosity of the Father.

The Kingdom is not a far-off dream or a prize reserved for the perfect. It is God’s reign — already breaking into our lives, given freely to His children, and destined to come in fullness.

So we can live without fear. We can invest in treasures that last forever. We can reflect the heart of the King wherever we go.

*Sermon was preached on August 3rd.
Based on Luke 12:13–21

Life is full of difficult questions, and sometimes those questions come at the most unexpected moments. In Luke 12, Jesus is interrupted by a man who brings a very practical issue before Him: a dispute over a family inheritance. The man wants Jesus to act as a mediator between him and his brother. It’s the kind of situation that could happen in any family—conflict over money, property, and fairness. But Jesus doesn’t settle the dispute. Instead, He speaks to a much deeper issue that lies beneath the surface: greed.

Jesus replies, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions” (Luke 12:15). In that one sentence, He shifts the conversation from external matters to the condition of the heart. This is not just about finances or fairness—it’s about what truly defines our lives. Jesus tells us that our worth does not come from what we own. Our value, our peace, and our purpose are not found in possessions. Instead, they are found in God.

To illustrate this truth, Jesus shares the Parable of the Rich Fool. It’s the story of a man who has been very successful—his land produced so much that he doesn’t know where to store it all. For many people, this would be seen as a blessing, a problem of abundance. The man’s solution is simple: build bigger barns, save it all, and enjoy life. “You have plenty of grain laid up for many years,” he says to himself. “Take life easy; eat, drink, and be merry.”

But then, something shocking happens. God speaks: “You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?” The man’s plans come to nothing, because he had forgotten one essential truth—life is fragile, and time is not ours to control. He was not foolish because he was rich, but because he was self-centered, spiritually empty, and completely unaware of the reality of his soul.

If we look carefully, we notice that in just a few verses, the man refers to himself repeatedly: my crops, my barns, my grain, my goods. There is no mention of God, no mention of others. His vision of success was entirely individualistic. He believed his wealth would provide security, rest, and meaning. But Jesus shows us that this belief is false. Real peace cannot come from possessions. Real life is not secured by storing things for ourselves.

The deeper message here is about being rich toward God. That is the phrase Jesus uses to conclude the parable: “This is how it will be with whoever stores up things for themselves but is not rich toward God” (v.21). But what does it mean to be rich toward God?

To be rich toward God is to place our trust in God more than we trust our bank accounts. It means living with an open hand, ready to give, ready to bless, ready to serve. It means seeing all that we have—not as something we own, but as something we steward for God’s purposes. It means that we measure our success not by what we accumulate, but by how we love, how we give, and how we live out the values of the kingdom.

Scripture gives us other examples to contrast with the rich fool. In Luke 21, we meet a poor widow who gives two small coins—everything she has. Jesus praises her, not because of the amount she gave, but because of the heart with which she gave it. And in Luke 19, Zacchaeus, the tax collector, meets Jesus and immediately promises to give half his possessions to the poor and repay anyone he has cheated fourfold. His generosity is the fruit of a transformed heart.

Jesus' words invite us to reflect on our own relationship with money and possessions. Where is our security? Are we trusting in our savings more than we trust in God? Do we see our resources as a means of blessing others or only as a way to improve our own comfort? Are we building barns, or are we building lives rooted in love, grace, and generosity?

The parable challenges us, but it also offers a beautiful invitation. Jesus is not just warning us against greed—He is inviting us into a different way of life. A life where we are not anxious about what we have or don’t have. A life where we find joy in giving, and peace in trusting. A life that is rich—not in the world’s eyes, but in God’s eyes. A life grounded in love, faith, and hope.

In the end, the true treasure is not found in wealth, but in relationship—with God, and with one another. That is the treasure that cannot be taken from us. That is the kind of life Jesus offers.

May we respond to His call with open hearts. May we be rich toward God.

In the familiar story of Luke 10:38-42, we encounter two sisters, Martha and Mary, whose contrasting responses to Jesus’ presence offer a timeless lesson about faith and priorities. Martha, consumed by the demands of hospitality, is busy preparing and serving, ensuring everything is in order for her guest. Her efforts are commendable, as they reflect a heart of service and responsibility. Yet, her busyness becomes a distraction, pulling her away from the very presence of Jesus. Like Martha, many of us find ourselves caught up in the whirlwind of responsibilities—whether work, family, or even ministry—that, while important, can prevent us from being fully present with God. In our rush to "do" for Jesus, we risk forgetting to simply "be" with Him. This passage challenges us to examine our own lives, where the demands of productivity can drown out the still, small voice of God, leaving us spiritually disconnected despite our good intentions.

Martha’s preoccupation highlights a common struggle: the difficulty of discerning God’s movement when we’re consumed by busyness. In our fast-paced world, we often equate activity with accomplishment, believing that constant motion is the path to fulfillment. However, this relentless pace can blind us to God’s presence and mute His guidance. Martha’s frustration with Mary, who sits at Jesus’ feet instead of helping, reveals her inability to see the value of pausing to listen. We, too, may find it hard to slow down, especially when society rewards efficiency and multitasking. Yet, the story suggests that our busyness, even when well-intentioned, can become a barrier to spiritual clarity. By contrast, Mary’s choice to sit and listen demonstrates a deliberate act of prioritizing Jesus above all else, reminding us that true discipleship begins with presence, not performance.

Mary’s posture at Jesus’ feet is not one of laziness but of attentiveness and faith. She understands that listening to Jesus is not a secondary task but the foundation of a meaningful spiritual life. In her stillness, Mary finds clarity, direction, and peace—gifts that come from being fully present with Christ. This act of listening is not always easy, especially when God seems silent. Many of us wrestle with the silence of God in our prayers, longing for a clear answer or a single word of reassurance. Yet, God’s silence is not absence but a call to trust in His timing. Sitting in that silence, like Mary, requires patience and humility, teaching us to rely on God’s will rather than our own desires. Through this faithful listening, God works to form and refine us, preparing us to hear what we truly need, even when it differs from what we expect.

Choosing the "better part," as Mary did, leads to a life of presence and purpose. This choice does not mean abandoning responsibilities but rather reordering our priorities to place Christ at the center. When we slow down to be with Jesus, we reconnect with what matters most, finding a sense of purpose that transcends the noise of daily life. Mary’s example shows us that true peace is found not in checking off tasks but in rooting ourselves in Christ’s presence. This presence empowers us to live with intention, aligning our actions with God’s will rather than the world’s demands. In a culture that glorifies productivity, Jesus’ affirmation of Mary’s choice is radical: it elevates being over doing, inviting us to find our true purpose in communion with Him.

In conclusion, the story of Martha and Mary is a powerful reminder that the heart of discipleship lies in being with Jesus. Martha’s service was not wrong, but her distraction kept her from the deeper connection Mary embraced. In a world that praises hustle and productivity, Jesus praises presence. By choosing the better part, as Mary did, we are called to listen deeply, live purposefully, and remain rooted in the One who gives us life. This choice is not a rejection of responsibility but a reorientation toward what is eternal. As we navigate our own busy lives, may we, like Mary, pause to sit at Jesus’ feet, trusting that in His presence, we will find the clarity, peace, and purpose we seek.