These are not easy readings. In fact, they are the sort of passages we might prefer didn’t appear in the lectionary – quietly skipped over in favour of something gentler. Or whoever is preaching wishes that someone else was.
Mark Twain allegedly said: “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” Sometimes the answer to the second is a hard thing to discover.
Jeremiah accuses God of deceiving him and Jesus speaks about division, crosses and losing one’s life. Neither passage sits comfortably with a tidy or sentimental faith. And perhaps that is precisely why we need to hear them.
Because Scripture doesn’t only speak to us in moments of certainty and peace. It also speaks to those times when faith feels costly, confusing, or even painful.
Raw
Jeremiah is not a happy bunny! He has tried to speak God’s truth to his people, and it has brought him only ridicule, isolation and physical danger. And so, he cries out: “O Lord, you have enticed me…”.
The Hebrew is ambiguous here. Other versions have ‘deceived’, ‘seduced’, ‘overwhelmed’, ‘compelled’, ‘wounded’…
It’s one of the rawest prayers in the Bible. Jeremiah is not politely disappointed. He feels both alone and compelled by the burden of his calling, his vocation. He’s trapped between silence and proclamation. And perhaps many people of faith, maybe some of you here, recognise something of that feeling.
There are moments when discipleship does not feel triumphant but costly: when doing the right thing isolates us; when speaking truth creates tension; when compassion leaves us vulnerable or when faithfulness feels heavy rather than uplifting.
Jeremiah discovers that the word of God is not always comfortable to carry. But he can also say: “Yet the Lord is with me”
In other words, even in frustration, even in fear, even in anger, Jeremiah cannot quite let go of the God who has called him. The relationship remains.
A sword
Then we come to Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel. And again, these are difficult words: “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”
At first hearing, it sounds shocking. Not the Jesus that we are familiar with or comfortable with. But we must be careful here. Jesus is not glorifying violence. The same Jesus who says this also tells Peter to put away the sword and teaches love of enemies. So, what does he mean?
I think he means this: that truth has consequences. That real discipleship disrupts things. That the kingdom of God challenges injustice, hypocrisy, selfishness, systems of domination, even the unhealthy patterns within families and communities.
And when that happens, conflict sometimes follows. Not because Christians seek division, but because love and truth unsettle the world as it currently is. And perhaps we know this instinctively.
Whenever someone breaks a destructive cycle, speaks honestly, refuses prejudice, chooses forgiveness, stands with the vulnerable – it often creates resistance. Not everyone welcomes transformation.
So, Jesus is preparing his disciples for reality. He is saying: “If they misunderstood me, they may misunderstand you too.”
Paradox
And then comes that really hard saying: “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” Which sounds paradoxical because it is.
But perhaps we already know this truth in smaller ways.
The people who cling most tightly to themselves often become diminished by fear. Whereas those who give themselves away in love – parents, carers, teachers, friends – often discover a deeper life precisely through self-giving.
We have some Arabic calligraphy on our wall at home, which translates as: ‘To give, is to receive’.
The Christian life is not about self-erasure. It is about discovering that love enlarges the soul. And this is where both readings become unexpectedly hopeful. Because neither Jeremiah nor Jesus promises an easy faith. But both insist that costly faithfulness is not meaningless.
Do not be afraid
Jeremiah feels abandoned – yet still discovers God beside him. The disciples are warned about opposition – yet are told repeatedly: “Do not be afraid.”
In fact, Jesus says it three times in this one chapter. Three times. As though he knows fear will be the great temptation. Fear of rejection. Fear of conflict. Fear of loss.
And against all of that, Jesus offers not certainty of comfort, but certainty of presence: “You are of more value than many sparrows.” You are seen. You are known. You are not forgotten by God.
Courageous love
I think that matters enormously today. Because we live in anxious times: politically anxious, socially anxious, spiritually anxious. Many people feel pressure to simplify everything into tribes and slogans. To avoid complexity. To avoid costly compassion.
But the Gospel calls us somewhere deeper. Not into aggression. Not into fear. But into courageous love. A love willing to tell the truth. A love willing to remain compassionate. A love willing to carry the cross – not as a symbol of suffering for its own sake, but as the sign of costly, transformative mercy.
And perhaps this is the deepest hope in these readings: that God does not wait for us at the end of struggle but accompanies us within it. Jeremiah discovers this. The disciples discover this. And ultimately Christ himself embodies it. The one who says: “Take up your cross and follow me,” is also the one who carries his own cross ahead of us.
The Lord is with us
So, if these readings feel difficult today, perhaps that is because they are meant to be. They are honest. They honour the reality that faith can be costly.
But they also proclaim that fear doesn’t have the final word; that truth is worth speaking; that love is worth giving – and that, even in the midst of struggle: “the Lord is with us.”
A Blessing for Costly Faithfulness
Blessed are you
when faith feels less like comfort
and more like courage.
Blessed are you
when the truth you carry
sits like fire in your bones,
when love asks more of you
than you thought you could give.
Blessed are you
when the path feels costly,
when peace seems distant,
when even the faithful road
leads through conflict
and uncertainty.
May you not mistake
the difficulty of the journey
for the absence of God.
May you remember
that the One who calls you onward
does not wait for you
at some safer place ahead,
but walks beside you
through every fear,
every sorrow,
every moment
you are tempted to let go.
May you have courage
to speak truth with gentleness,
to love without retreating,
to trust that what is given away
in faith
is never truly lost.
And when your heart grows weary,
may you hear again
the quiet promise:
you are seen.
you are known.
you are held.
And you need not be afraid.
Amen.
‘Yet the Lord is With Me’ was delivered by Ian Banks at St John with St Mark’s on 3rd after Trinity, Sunday 21st June 2026. It was based on Jeremiah 20:7–13 and Matthew 10:24–39.