Fire changes things.
Put something into a fire and it does not come out exactly as it went in.
And that is what Christ has come to do.
He has not come simply to decorate our lives with a little religion.
He has come to change us.
That helps us understand the first reading.
Saint Paul falls to his knees and prays that Christians may be “strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inner man”, that Christ may dwell in their hearts, and that they may be “rooted and grounded in love.”
Notice where Paul wants the change to happen. Inside.
It is quite possible to have plenty of Catholic things around us and remain largely unchanged inside.
A crucifix on the wall. A rosary in the drawer. A Bible on the shelf.
Perhaps several holy cards which have been there so long that even the saints are beginning to wonder what happened to us.
All good things.
But Christ wants more than a place in the house. He wants the heart.
Paul prays that Christ may dwell there. Not visit occasionally. Dwell.
Take up residence. Tabernacle among us.
And when Christ really takes up residence, things begin to move.
Jesus says that His coming will sometimes bring division even within families.
He is not praising family quarrels.
He is not telling Christians to become awkward for the sake of it.
The division comes because truth eventually forces decisions.
If Christ is Lord, then there will be moments when following Him costs something.
Perhaps everyone around us says: “Surely that does not matter.”
But conscience says it does.
Perhaps the easier thing is to keep quiet. To go along.
To laugh at what everyone else is laughing at.
To accept something because resisting it will make life awkward.
And then Christ asks: Do you belong to Me when it costs you something?
Christian faith is easy enough when Christ agrees with us.
The test comes when we discover that He intends to correct us.
We want peace of mind, reassurance, Heaven eventually — but preferably without too much disturbance beforehand.
Yet Jesus says: “I came to cast fire on the earth.”
He loves us too much to leave everything as it is.
And notice how Paul prevents this becoming harsh.
The fire of Christ is rooted in love.
Paul wants us to know “the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge”.
That is the centre.
Christ does not challenge us because He enjoys making life difficult.
He challenges us because He loves us.
The surgeon cuts because healing matters.
The fire purifies because something precious is being made ready.
And Christ Himself does not stand at a safe distance from the fire.
He speaks of a “baptism” He must undergo.
He means His Passion. The Cross.
Before Christ asks anything costly of us, He has already given everything for us.
That changes the whole tone.
The Christian life is not: “Prove how much you can suffer for God.”
It is: “Look how completely God has loved you — now let that love change you.”
Paul ends with one of the most hopeful lines in Scripture:
God is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think.
So perhaps there is somewhere in life where Christ is disturbing us at the moment.
A truth we would rather avoid. A habit we know has to change.
A conversation we know we need to have.
A compromise which has gone on too long.
Do not be afraid of the fire.
If Christ is at work, He is not trying to destroy what is good in us.
He is burning away what keeps us from becoming holy.
And the same Christ who lights the fire gives the strength to remain in it.
Rooted in love. Strengthened by the Holy Spirit. Christ dwelling within us.
Until our lives are no longer merely religious around the edges,
but filled with God.
