Jesus once said something that probably causes most of us to have that confused puppy dog, head tilted to one side, I don’t understand kind of reaction: "Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword."

My first question is, “Where's my Jesus? The love-your-enemy, pray-for-people-who-persecute-you Jesus?”

He's still here. But this week he says something we need to sit with before we get to the good news. And there is good news. There's a lot of it. But we have to walk through some things first.

The word Jesus uses for "bring" is the Greek word ballō, which means “to cast, to throw.” It's the same word used in the parable of the sower when the farmer casts seed across the field. Jesus isn't describing himself as some kind of warrior. He's saying something he's releasing into the world is going to cause division wherever it lands. Luke, when he tells the same story, drops the sword image altogether and just says the word: division.

So, what gets divided? Jesus tells us. Families, which could be considered shorthand for everything, since ‘family’ is the smallest unit of society. His word pushes on things that feel completely normal until Jesus shows up. Families look out for their own. Jesus says look out for the poor and the powerless. The world says protect your reputation. Jesus says truth matters more than how you look. Tribalism has a hundred different names right now, but Jesus says the person in the other tribe is still your neighbor. The world says accumulate enough to feel secure. Jesus says give and trust. The world says crush your enemies and celebrate their downfall. Jesus says love them and pray for them.

Jesus is not speaking about division to be harsh. He's being honest about what happens when his kingdom bumps into the world.

Jesus immediately follows his ‘sword’ statement with something sure to cause division: "Whoever does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me."

You and I hear "cross to bear" and think about difficulty. But the first-century hearer didn't have that cushion. Under Roman occupation, crucifixion was visible and public and designed to make sure nobody crossed the Empire. So when Jesus says this — before he's been crucified, mind you, before any of this makes historical sense — it's bewildering. Some people wonder what he means. Others decide they've heard enough.

We have a record of this same thing happening with another hard saying of Jesus. In John 6, Jesus tells a crowd, "Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you." The crowd's reaction was honest and understandable. They left. Jesus turns to the twelve and asks, "Do you want to go away as well?"

Peter's answer is deeply telling and inspirational for us. He says: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."

Notice what Peter doesn't say. He doesn't say, "No, because I understood what you meant." He doesn't claim comprehension. He just speaks words of faith. What Peter knows about Jesus enables him to sit with words he doesn't understand and hold them loosely. Not reject them, not pretend they make sense yet, just hold them. He would come to understand later. But in the moment, he trusted the person.

That's what taking up the cross is. Not a checklist. Not a new set of rungs on a ladder to climb. It's following someone you trust even when you don't understand where he's going or what he's talking about. If you've ever read a Bible verse and thought, "What is that about?" — that's okay. The disciples had the same experience regularly, and they were walking with Jesus in person.

We don't follow Jesus because we understand everything he says. We follow him because he leads us into a right relationship with God through his death and resurrection. And what we do understand about him — his love, his forgiveness, what he did by dying for us — is compelling enough to sit with the difficult things and say, "I don't understand that yet. But I trust the one who said it."

Paul gets at this in Romans 7. We've been freed from the law as a measuring system — freed from using our performance to determine our worth as a person or whether we're right with God. Jesus has handled that. But freed from the law doesn't mean freed from love. It means freed for love. From obligation and for gratitude. From fear and for trust. That reordering alone has been causing family division for two thousand years.

And then Jesus tells us what the weapon of this divisive kingdom actually looks like. After the sword, the division, and the taking up your cross — which all sounds rather difficult… even violent — the weapon Jesus gives us is as simple as a cup of cold water.

You fight the for Jesus’ kingdom even in giving a cup of cold water to a thirsty child. No drama, no heroism, no ladder. Just: is someone nearby who's thirsty? Give them a drink. That's the battle call.

Paul expands on it in Romans 12. If your enemy is hungry, feed him. If he is thirsty, give him something to drink. Do not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good. That's the sword. Overcome evil with good.

This idea of reaching out to little ones in need starts with us. It’s a picture of what Jesus has done by not counting his equality with God something to be clung to but coming to Earth as a man to rescue us from ourselves.

We are the little ones. We are the thirsty ones. God showed his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Not after we cleaned ourselves up. Not after we passed a test. He came to where we were and handed us the cup himself first.

He asks nothing of us that he hasn't already done.

So, this is faith for ordinary days. Not heroism. Not having all the answers. Just enough trust in Jesus to love others the way he first loved us. If you forgive something the people around you think is unforgivable, someone will say you can't do that, you shouldn't do that, how dare you do that. And Jesus says: you have to, because I have forgiven you.

That's the dividing line he casts into the world. Love. And sometimes that battle is as simple as a cup of cold water for a child.