The Danger of a Distracted Heart

Luke 17:26-37

"And as it came to pass in the days of Noe, so shall it be also in the days of the Son of man. They did eat and drink, they married wives, and were given in marriage, until the day that Noe entered into the ark: and the flood came and destroyed them all.

Likewise as it came to pass, in the days of Lot: they did eat and drink, they bought and sold, they planted and built. And in the day that Lot went out of Sodom, it rained fire and brimstone from heaven, and destroyed them all.

Even thus shall it be in the day when the Son of man shall be revealed.

In that hour, he that shall be on the housetop, and his goods in the house, let him not go down to take them away: and he that shall be in the field, in like manner, let him not return back.

Remember Lot's wife.

Whosoever shall seek to save his life, shall lose it: and whosoever shall lose it, shall preserve it.

I say to you: in that night there shall be two men in one bed; the one shall be taken, and the other shall be left: Two women shall be grinding together: the one shall be taken, and the other shall be left...

Wheresoever the body shall be, thither will the eagles also be gathered together."

Remember Lot's Wife: The Danger of a Distracted Heart

When I read the Gospels, some passages feel like a gentle hand on the shoulder, a word of comfort. This passage is not one of them. For me, Luke 17:26-37 is a spiritual alarm bell. It’s a piercing, urgent, and deeply personal warning that shakes me out of my spiritual complacency. It’s not a story about "those people" back then; it’s a story about us, right now.

What should truly shake us to the core isn't the fire and brims tone, or the waters of the flood. It's the reason Jesus gives for the judgment. It's the "eating and drinking, buying and selling, planting and building." It's the profound, terrible danger of normalcy.

The people in Noah's day and Lot's day weren't just destroyed for committing extraordinary, grotesque sins. They were destroyed for being completely, utterly, and hopelessly distracted. Their sin was a total absorption in the temporal world. They were spiritually anesthetized by their routines. They were so busy with their careers, their social lives, their home improvement projects, and their plans for the future that their hearts became completely deaf to God's call. They were living as if this life was all there is.

This passage holds a mirror up to my own 21st-century life. We don't just "eat and drink"; we have foodie culture, craft breweries, and endless culinary entertainment. We don't just "buy and sell"; we are immersed in a 24/7 global marketplace, constantly upgrading, consuming, and curating our material lives. We don't just plant and build; we are obsessed with career ladders, 5-year plans, and the hustle culture that tells us our value is in our productivity.

Our entire modern world is a sophisticated machine designed for this very distraction. Our phones in our pockets is a gateway to a thousand "normal" things that can absorb our entire souls if we let them.

And this is the sin: it's not the activity, it's the absorption. It’s living a completely horizontal life in a vertical reality. This Gospel warns us that it is entirely possible to be a "good" person, a productive member of society, a responsible family man... and be utterly lost. It's the sin of complacency, of a heart that has become so full of "normal" things that there is no room left for God.

And the three words that strike me to the core, are: "Remember Lot's wife."

This, for me, is the heart of the entire passage. Let's really think about her story. She was out. She was saved. The angels of God had literally grabbed her by the hand and dragged her from the city. Grace was actively pulling her to safety. She was on the path. All she had to do was keep moving forward and not look back.

And yet, she looked back.

Why? Because her body was walking toward salvation, but her heart was still in Sodom. Her treasure was still there. She longed for the "goods in the house," the life she was leaving, perhaps even the comfortable, familiar sins she was used to. She became a pillar of salt, a terrifying monument of spiritual paralysis, frozen between two worlds, unwilling to fully abandon the old and therefore unable to truly enter the new.

This is the ultimate warning against a half-hearted conversion. It should force us to ask ourselves the most uncomfortable question: "What is my Sodom?"

It's not a physical city. It's that old sin I sometimes romanticize. It's someone's pride in his intellect or another person's pride in her accomplishments. It's someone's deep, nagging desire for the approval of others. It's our attachment to our own plans, our own timelines, our own idea of what "my life" should look like, which most of us refuse to surrender to God's will.

Jesus is telling me, Jesus is telling us, in the starkest terms, that we cannot follow Him forward while our necks are craned, looking back with longing at what we've supposedly left behind.

Finally, there is that terrifying, surgical precision of the judgment: "One shall be taken, and the other shall be left."

This shatters any lazy idea of "cultural Christianity" or "salvation by association." These aren't strangers. "Two men in one bed", the most intimate of human relationships, a husband and wife. "Two women grinding together", the most common of daily labors, coworkers and friends.

This means we can live the exact same life externally. We can be in the same family, go to the same Mass, live in the same house, and yet be in two totally different spiritual realities. One is awake, the other is asleep. One is Lot, heart fixed forward; the other is his wife, heart fixed on the past. The judgment line will cut right through the middle of our closest, most comfortable human relationships.

It means my salvation is mine. I cannot inherit it from my parents. I cannot absorb it from my spouse. I cannot get it just by being in the "right" group. I will stand before God alone, and the only question will be: "Was your heart Mine?"

This Gospel isn't a scare tactic. It is a profound, pressing act of mercy. It's Jesus grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me, lovingly but firmly, saying, "Wake up. Stop living on auto pilot. Live with eternity in view. Detach your heart from the 'goods' that will burn, and fix it on the Kingdom that is forever."

The antidote to the world's distraction is a holy fixation. "Wheresoever the body shall be, thither will the eagles also be gathered together." We are called to be those eagles, with sharp spiritual vision, fixed on the "body", the Body of Christ, our Lord in the Most Holy Eucharist. The antidote to the world's "eating and drinking" is the true Food and Drink that gives eternal life.

This passage calls me to live deliberately, to make this day, this hour, count. To ensure that if the Lord returns tonight, He finds me not "in the house" clinging to my stuff, but "on the housetop," waiting for Him.