Skip to main content

Hanging by a thread


Luke 12:49-56
[Image of two sections of rope joined only by a thread] Can you think of a caption for this image?
What about, ‘Hanging by a thread’? Sometimes wear and tear, stresses and strains, leave things hanging quite literally by a single thread. If the problem isn’t spotted in time the thread will snap, sometimes with disastrous consequences.
Have you ever been in the situation where you pulled your shoelaces tight, or your bootlaces, and then realised that one of the laces had been hanging together by a thread. The minute you pulled on the lace it snapped and suddenly you had a problem, perhaps far away from home in the middle of a busy day. Not quite a disaster, but a serious inconvenience.
The other day one of my trouser buttons flew off and shot across the room. That’s what I mean by stresses and strains! The button was clearly under a lot of strain and I hadn’t noticed that it was hanging by a single thread. The thread broke and this time, if I hadn’t been at home, it certainly would have been disastrous.
Life can be like that. We can be under so much stress and strain - at school, or at work, or at home - that things are only hanging together by a single thread. Often we expect Jesus to be able to make things better, to give us more strength. But if that was always the way religion worked it would only be for people who are facing problems or struggling to cope.
Sometimes you can hear people say, ‘I don’t need God because God is just an idea invented to help people who can’t cope by themselves, who need a parent figure in their lives to help them keep it all together, even when they’ve grown up.’
Jesus anticipates that criticism, and this is his answer: Yes, he came to comfort the afflicted, to help people who are only just holding it together, but he also came to afflict the comfortable. 
When people feel they’ve got no worries at all, that there are no stresses and strains in their life, Jesus may challenge them; he may tug on the rope that binds things together in their life and see just how strong it really is. 
For instance, he may challenge them to do something their family don’t like, or to give to someone in need a stash of money which they had been saving for a rainy day. He may want them to say and do things which cause controversy and even conflict - like standing up against injustice or telling people to stop doing things which are harming the environment.
When we visited family in New Zealand a few years ago we found that the most common answer to any question was, ‘No worries, Mate.’ It was nice. Life was calmer there. People were less easily flustered or annoyed - unless they were behind the wheel of a car! 
Sometimes Jesus is like that. When things are hanging by a thread he’s there to comfort and reassure us, to strengthen and support us. But when we feel that things are just fine, that we have no worries, he may be waiting to shake things up, to challenge and disturb us.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I don't believe in an interventionist God

Matthew 28.1-10, 1 Corinthians 15.1-11 I like Nick Cave’s song because of its audacious first line: ‘I don’t believe in an interventionist God’. What an unlikely way to begin a love song! He once explained that he wrote the song while sitting at the back of an Anglican church where he had gone with his wife Susie, who presumably does believe in an interventionist God - at least that’s what the song says. Actually Cave has always been very interested in religion. Sometimes he calls himself a Christian, sometimes he doesn’t, depending on how the mood takes him. He once said, ‘I believe in God in spite of religion, not because of it.’ But his lyrics often include religious themes and he has also said that any true love song is a song for God. So maybe it’s no coincidence that he began this song in such an unlikely way, although he says the inspiration came to him during the sermon. The vicar was droning on about something when the first line of the song just popped into his

Giotto’s Nativity and Adoration of the Shepherds

John 1.10-18 In the week before Christmas the BBC broadcast a modern version of The Nativity which attempted to retell the story with as much psychological realism as possible. So, for instance, viewers saw how Mary, and Joseph especially, struggled with their feelings. But telling the story of Jesus with psychological realism is not a new idea. It has a long tradition going back seven hundred years to the time of the Italian artist Giotto di Bondone. This nativity scene was painted in a church in Padua in about 1305. Much imitated it is one of the first attempts at psychological realism in Christian art. And what a wonderful first attempt it is - a work of genius, in fact! Whereas previously Mary and the Baby Jesus had been depicted facing outwards, or looking at their visitors, with beatific expressions fixed on their faces, Giotto dares to show them staring intently into one another’s eyes, bonding like any mother and newborn baby. Joseph, in contrast, is not looking on with quiet a

Meeting Jesus on Zoom

‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’ (John 20.19-31 ( https://www.biblegateway.com NRSVA) This is my second reflection about today’s Gospel reading but I wanted to write something about meeting Jesus on Zoom. Zoom’s been very useful during the lockdown, but it’s also got a bad press. Various mischief makers have gatecrashed meetings on Zoom, either to eavesdrop or make inappropriate comments. That’s why worshippers needed permission to join our on-line service this week. If they managed to press all the right buttons, and entered all the right codes, they should've found themselves looking at a screen not unlike the cartoon picture below of the eleven apostles trying to meet on Zoom with the risen Jesus. Anyone who couldn't see the service on the screen would've been in good company. In the cartoon Jesus has done something wrong. Either he hasn’t enabled Zoom to t