Do not be afraid little flock

Mel Eyons

Luke 12.32-40

“Do not be afraid little flock…”

That seems like a tall order, right now, to be honest.

Many are rightfully worried about wars and rumours of wars; political instability around the world; economic difficulties for many while a few grow unimaginably rich; growing divisions and prejudices of all kinds – between people of different races, sexualities, religions and genders; the threat of climate change, and more.

And all these fears are made worse by a media setup which plays on our fears and amplifies them – because that’s what sells newspapers or increases clicks online or makes us fight among ourselves rather than working together to build a better society that might threaten the positions of the rich and powerful.

Then there are our more personal fears. Fear of being vulnerable, of being hurt, of losing control of our lives, of what others think of us, fear that we’re not doing as well as everyone else or that we’re fundamentally flawed in a way that makes us unacceptable.

These kinds of fears can be used as well.

For example, we’re bombarded with adverts promising us that if we only buy this one thing, we’ll be strong, happy, confident, in control, and the envy of our friends, neighbours and even strangers.

We seem to live in a world that runs on fear.

We fear what we can’t see, what we don’t know, and what might be, and conjure up threats where there are none.

It all sounds and feels exhausting.

Yet, into all of this, Jesus still says, “Do not be afraid little flock”.

However, what our English translation obscures is that what Jesus is really saying in the Greek of Luke’s Gospel is “Stop being afraid”.

He’s talking about fear that we already have, that is common to all human beings at one time or another, not some hypothetical fear down the road.

There are of course many ways to deal with fear, some more healthy than others.

We can self-medicate with food or alcohol to blot it out for a while.

We can refuse to hear about the bad things in the world and live in denial. (This is not to say that we can’t take a break from the news sometimes, but constantly living as though everything’s fine isn’t really an answer.)

We can also store up money or possessions in the hope they will insulate us from problems and give us security.

But none of those things will really take away our fear in the long run.

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What Jesus offers instead as a solution to fear is the assurance that God is delighted to give us his kingdom.

God wants and plans to give us all good things, to make us co-heirs with Christ, to care for us and love us, and make all things well for us.

All this makes God happy.

What we are promised, although it doesn’t take away the bad we may face now, far outweighs it all.

The rest of the Gospel passage, although it seems like a sudden change of tone, flows on from this generous gift of God.

The point here, I believe, is that the things Jesus talks about, selling possessions and giving to the poor, building up treasure in heaven, arise in response to knowing that we have the generous gift of God’s kingdom, and therefore we don’t need to hold on to anything else for our security.

We’re set free from fear, as much as is humanly possible in this life, and empowered to look outwards to the needs of others, without worrying that we might not have enough for ourselves.

When we realise what a gift we have, it’s a lot easier to give rather than hoard, live from a sense of courage rather than fear, operate out of a sense of abundance rather than scarcity, allow ourselves to be seen rather than presenting only what we think is acceptable, and so on.

God’s promises, in other words, create a sense of freedom, and that freedom enables us to face the world’s many challenges with greater confidence and peace.

We are set free to start living according to the values of the kingdom of God, to immediately start taking part in God’s work of redeeming and putting right.

And that peace and freedom help faith to flourish even though we don’t yet see all of God’s promises fulfilled.

This is the kind of faith that, as the letter to the Hebrews tells us, is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen”.

It is the kind of faith that allowed Abraham and Sarah to leave everything behind based on God’s apparently impossible promise to give them children despite old age and infertility.

And it’s the kind of faith that still inspires people today to step up, speak out, and serve both God and others.

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Yet, the final part of our Gospel reading may still seem threatening, with its talk of a master returning and expecting to find his slaves alert and waiting for him.

It reminds me of those posters you sometimes see, saying, “Jesus is coming - look busy!”, as if he’s waiting to catch us out like a demanding boss.

These verses can be interpreted as telling us that if we’re not up to scratch when Jesus returns, and working as hard as possible, then we’re doomed.

We may believe that we must keep working all the time to make we’re up to standard when Jesus returns.

Such a view stokes yet more fear and disturbs our faith with the idea that we’re constantly on trial.

So many Christians miss out on a life of peace and assurance because of worry about being good enough.

Unfortunately, many have fed this fear by preaching about the second coming in a scary way.

They seem to believe that they can threaten people into becoming Christians if they remind them that Jesus will come again to judge them.

But neither Jesus nor the apostles tried to scare people into faith by threatening them in this way.

Of course, we do fail and need forgiveness - the Bible is clear on that.

But when the first Christians invited someone to follow Jesus, they did it by describing the salvation he brings and the love that he has shown us in becoming a human being like you and me, dying for us and rising again.

And when Jesus talks about his second coming, it’s to encourage those who already believe in him.

It’s to tell them that all the promises that he's given them will one day be fulfilled in a visible way.

So, in this context, I believe Jesus is not warning or threatening but rather promising.

One thing that for me at least can slip by unnoticed, is that when the master returns, he serves his slaves – not the other way around.       

This suggests that his return is a matter of joy, not fear, one of celebration, not mourning.

Jesus emphasises that his return will be unexpected, like a thief in the night, which is a disturbing image if we take it too literally.

But the emphasis here, it seems, is on the need for us to patiently persevere in faith and doing what needs to be done, without knowing when Jesus’s return will happen or when our reward will come, just as Abraham and Sarah didn’t know what would happen when they were called to believe in God’s promise to them.

And what if Jesus wants to encourage us that, if we continue in faith, and all the good things that arise naturally from that, he will be glad to see us, will sit down with us in his household, and will even serve us in the celebration of his kingdom fully come on earth?

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None of this means there’s a magic wand we can wave to make everything instantly all right in the world or in our lives.

And fears and anxieties will no doubt persist because we are only frail human beings.

But, in and through all of that, we have “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen” to help, sustain and encourage us.

So, “do not be afraid little flock”, for God is pleased to give us his kingdom.