Those Who Love

Sunday May 29, 2011

Easter 6A

Jerusalem Baptist Church (Emmerton), Warsaw VA

John 14:15-21

¹⁵”If you love me, you will keep my commandments. ¹⁶And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. ¹⁷This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

¹⁸”I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. ¹⁹In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. ²⁰On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. ²¹They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

As far back as I can remember, if we were going to be handing out New Testament tracts, or portions of the New Testament, we would load up with copies of the Gospel of John.  I remember they were little yellow paperback booklets, or in later years, they had a picture of a flowing stream and a small waterfall in a green glen in a forest.  It was a picture of living water.

And I remember wondering, why are we giving out the Gospel of John, and not one of the other Gospels?  As I began to study the different accounts, from Mark and Matthew and Luke, I began to get some idea of why, but it was never that clear to me.  Coming from a background that taught me that every part of the scriptures is equally important, equally valuable and equally applicable, it seemed somewhat unfair to always be pushing the Gospel of John over the others. 

 But when you go to the beginning of John and begin to read it, and compare the opening sentences of it to the opening sentences of the other three, the synoptic Gospels, you quickly become aware of the difference in tone and approach between John and the other three. 

To one degree or another, the synoptics, Matthew, Mark and Luke, are more self consciously biographical narratives.  While they interweave theology and teachings with the life narrative of Jesus, that life narrative is the primary vehicle that they use to convey the message of the Gospel. 

With John, it is the other way around.  John is a theological treatise that pauses to include life narrative episodes from Jesus’ life.  The primary focus of the Gospel is so that we, the readers, will believe that Jesus is the Son of God, the Messiah and savior of the world. 

Stop and think for a moment about that statement.  Tradition holds that John the beloved disciple wrote the account.  And he wrote it to a group of believers who had been taught by him, who had listened to him tell the stories of his experiences with Jesus probably for years if not decades, and who were struggling to believe them – and to believe in Jesus.  

It sounds a little odd to us, that members of the early church, especially members of a congregation led by one of the actual apostles – would be struggling to believe that Jesus was the Christ, the Messiah … and yet, it wasn’t any more uncommon than it is for believers today – or people who wrestle with belief, with faith. 

John wrote these words long after Jesus was gone. This gospel is written backwards, in the midst of a community for whom Jesus was only a memory. Most of those in John's community had never met Jesus. Most, if not all, the disciples were dead. The temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed-a sign for many that the end-time would soon come.

But the end-time didn't come.

Life went on and that was, in many ways, the hardest part of all. Jesus hadn't returned even when all the signs seemed right. This community of believers felt pushed to the very edge of despair, and despair could defeat them. John knew the dangers of such despair. So it was that he pulled together many of the things Jesus said into this one section of the Gospel known as "The Farewell Discourses." It's a bit like The Last Lecture Series in some colleges, where professors are asked what they would say if they knew it was their last chance to speak. Here at the table, Jesus says the same things over and over in different ways. The central word is love.

If you love me you will keep my commandments.  

A new commandment I give you, that you love one another as I have loved you.  

Whoever does not love me does not keep my words.  

I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.

"But how can we do that?" the disciples must have wondered. Knowing they had a hard time loving each other even while Jesus was with them, how could believers love like that in John's community where memory was fading?

Let's just keep hearing about that time when Jesus was here.

And we are so prone to be like that, aren’t we?  Don’t we love to hear about the good old days, when things were better, simpler, slower, healthier, more peaceful, less chaotic, more friendly, less self-centered?  Who can blame us?  After all, yesterday can’t be worse than today, and certainly it will be better than tomorrow, at the rate things are going.  I mean, look at the increasing rate of … well, you name it:  crime, corruption, murders, bomb threats, whatever negative statistic you want to pull out is probably enough to make the person you’re speaking to nod in agreement.  After all, it’s obvious, isn’t it?  The world is going to hell in a handbasket!

Jesus didn't call the disciples to hold up his life as memory but as presence. "I will not leave you orphaned," Jesus said, "I am coming to you." What a strange thing to say on the night of betrayal and arrest. He should have said, "I am leaving you." Jesus didn't deny what was going to happen. "In a little while the world will no longer see me," Jesus said, "but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live."

Jesus was calling his disciples to live and love in ways that seemed impossible. They couldn't do it, not without the Spirit. The Spirit is the other theme repeated over and over around the table. Sometimes Jesus says the Advocate, like someone who stands beside you in a court of law. Sometimes he says Helper, sometimes Spirit of Truth. When Jesus said, "I am coming to you," he didn't mean he would return like an old friend from a long journey.

Jesus would be with believers in a different way. Or perhaps we could say that God would be with them in a different way because Jesus had been there. The eternal, cosmic Word of God became flesh in Jesus. That's what John wrote at the very beginning of this Gospel. The Spirit, which blew like a wind over the face of the deep in creation, took on flesh in the one who now sat with them at the table. This Living Word had just bent down to wash the disciples' dirty feet. You can't get much more down-to-earth than that. Jesus was very clear. The Spirit that dwells in me will abide also in you.

Shortly before this, Jesus had said something audacious. "Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these because I am going to the Father." If anyone other than Jesus had made such a claim, we would call it blasphemy. Yet, that's what Jesus said that night at the table, even as God breathed into lifeless clay to create a living person, the Spirit will breathe the presence of Jesus into you. In the power of the Spirit, Jesus will continue to be present with you. "I will not leave you orphaned. I am coming to you."

Love and the Spirit-these two are at the center of Jesus' farewell message, his Last Lecture Series. "Love one another as I have loved you" and "The Spirit of Truth will abide with you when I am gone." A little later in this same chapter, Jesus says, "The Holy Spirit, whom God will send in my name, will teach you everything and will remind you of all that I have said to you." That is, Jesus was saying: You don't know everything yet. You have more to learn. In every generation you will be faced with new questions and perplexities. Does the sun revolve around the earth or is it the other way around? Should nuclear weapons ever be used against an enemy? Is welfare the best way to bear one another's burdens? Should women who feel called by God be ordained to preach? Jesus knew there were some questions the sacred writings didn't address. Jesus also acknowledged that there were some things he had never talked about. "The Spirit will be your tutor," he said, "guiding you into all the truth."

Rosemary Radford Reuther is a church historian. She says there are two things the church must do. One is to pass on the tradition from one generation to another. Tell the story of Jesus to your children and your children's children. But that's not all, says Reuther. There is a second thing the church must do. Be open to the winds of the Spirit by which the tradition comes alive in each generation. That is different, deeper than memory.

At the very end of this chapter, Jesus seems to be ready to leave. He says, "Rise, let us be on our way." You can almost see him getting up from the table, then realizing that he forgot to say something. "I am the vine," he says, sitting down again, "and my Father is the vine grower. Abide in me as I abide in you." But how can we abide in Jesus? He has told the disciples over and over, repeating himself at the table: You will abide in me through the gift of the Spirit. The Spirit will teach you how to love one another. The Spirit will keep us connected, said Jesus. You to me, each of us to one another, and all of us to God.

Years ago I read something funny: "The reason mountain climbers are tied together is to keep the sane ones from going home." Whoever said that was playing with us a bit, for we know mountain climbers are tied together to keep from getting lost or going over a cliff. But there's another piece of truth here. When things get tough up on the mountain, when fear sets in, many a climber is tempted to say, "This is crazy! I'm going home." The life of faith can be like that-doubts set in, despair overwhelms us, and the whole notion of believing in God seems crazy. Jesus knew his disciples would have days like that. So he told them we're tied together like branches on the vine-or like climbers tied to the rope-tied together by the Spirit, to trust in one who is always more than we can understand, to keep us moving ahead on the journey of faith, to encourage us when believing seems absurd. "I will not leave you orphaned," said Jesus. "I am coming to you."

This promise is far deeper than a simple word of encouragement, and it wasn't only for Jesus' disciples, but also for you and for me. The Spirit ties us to Jesus. We feel a tug on the rope whenever we are tempted to settle for answers that seemingly make more sense in the eyes of the world, but that cannot give life. 

May the God who breathed life into lifeless clay breathe life and hope into us now and in all the days to come.

Let’s pray.

Come, Holy Spirit, tie us to Jesus and to one another. Breathe into us not only memories but the very presence of Jesus that we may love one another even as Jesus has loved us. Amen.

Guardian of Your Souls

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Easter 5A

Jerusalem Baptist Church (Emmerton), Warsaw VA

1 Peter 2:18-25

¹⁸Slaves, accept the authority of your masters with all deference, not only those who are kind and gentle but also those who are harsh. ¹⁹For it is a credit to you if, being aware of God, you endure pain while suffering unjustly. ²⁰If you endure when you are beaten for doing wrong, what credit is that? But if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval. ²¹For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps. ²²“He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.” ²³When he was abused, he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly. ²⁴He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. ²⁵For you were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.

On Friday I made a quick run to the grocery store in town to pick up a package of chicken, thinking I was maybe going to cook it for supper.  I bought it, but ended up storing it in the refrigerator until today.  I didn’t think twice about storing it rather than cooking it.  Didn’t think there was a real chance that it could go bad and be wasted before I had a chance to cook it.  

I was in Mechanicsville yesterday afternoon, meeting with a couple for the initial plans for their wedding.  We met at a restaurant, and after our meeting, I stayed and had a late lunch.  As I drove back, I drove by a department store that we tend to frequent to buy our clothes and shoes and such.  I debated on whether or not to stop in and see if I could pick up something, but decided against it. After all, we have all the clothes we need, and in fact, we have MORE than we need.  I went through my closet last weekend and bagged close to twenty shirts which I could not remember when I wore last, and gave them away to some friends. 

Last night, rather than cooking, I went online and placed an order for two medium pizzas from Domino’s, and made a quick run to pick them up.  It was sprinkling as I headed out, and I got to the parking lot in front of the store just as the storm got really bad.  I only hesitated a moment before opening the car door and running across the parking lot and stepping inside to pick up the pizzas and head back. 

According to the GPS we have in the car, it was a 10-mile trip in each direction.  I traveled at or below the speed limit, and made it there and back in something under an hour … maybe even less than 45 minutes.  Through the heavy downpour, across the river, listening to podcasts of religion stories that had been broadcast on NPR over the last few months. 

There was one moment coming back through town, as I passed St. John’s, where it seemed like lightning struck the new communication tower beside the Northern Neck Electric Co-Op complex, it was a momentarily blinding flash of light with an accompanying loud BANG of thunder, but all it did was startle me.  

Aside from that, it was a completely uneventful trip.

And it struck me that we have managed to engineer any sense of dependency on something other than ourselves nearly out of existence. 

The mark of modern technology is that we have begun to master our environment.  Whether it is cooling the hot air of summer or heating the cold air of winter, or constructing a bridge across what would otherwise be a serious impediment to travel – a river – with a few obvious exceptions, we go about our scheduled activities regardless of the weather or our physical surroundings. 

Most of us don’t give a second thought to getting in our cars or onto an airplane and traveling across considerable distances through the air and over geographical regions at speeds that would astonish our grandparents and great grandparents, to say nothing of our ancestors from further back than that.

Before I go on:  I am not a Luddite.  I am not opposed to advances in technology.  I believe improvements in agriculture, food production and energy supplies hold the key to ensuring a more just and equitable society as we move into the future.

 

But …

There is a downside to those advances.  We can very easily forget just how vulnerable we are. 

As I have watched the price of gasoline rise over the last few weeks and months, the thought has crossed my mind as to what it would be like to get around on bikes rather than in automobiles.  I know Hunter and Gwen could give me a really good idea of what it would feel like to ride these roads around here, and I know I could use the exercise… but that part of our ministry that calls for giving people rides to and from places – either school or the doctor or the airport – that would be the exception rather than the norm.  And what would happen on a night like last night?  We would definitely be eating leftovers or a home cooked meal.  A trip to Mechanicsville would also be an event – a once a month or maybe even a once a quarter trip, rather than a once or twice a week errand run. 

It is a seductive draw for us, so subtle that we’re not even aware of it.  We seldom stop to consider or even wonder about the risks in what is inherent in our daily activities until something tragic happens. 

Earlier this week, friends of ours whose daughter has also recently gotten her driver’s permit were out on the road, the daughter was driving, and an oncoming driver, who was apparently in need of some serious rest, nodded off as she was driving, and drifted across the center line into oncoming traffic.  Our friends’ daughter was able to swerve away from a head-on collision, but wasn’t able to miss the other driver entirely.  The other car clipped the back end of the car they were in and they spun out, spinning several times before coming to a stop – shaken, but thankfully unharmed.  If not for quick reactions and a low center of gravity, this story could be coming out tragically different.

We live in a part of the world and at a time in history when we don’t give a second thought to flipping a switch to be able to see at night, or to turning a valve to get hot or cold clean running water for our wash, our hygiene, or for our food.  Some of us can remember a time when getting clean water involved either a trip to an outside pump or a trip to a stream, but it is a distant memory for the most part.

Sometimes circumstances remind us – in harsh ways.  Hurricane Isabel did it for us here eight years ago.  Hurricane Katrina did it for folks in New Orleans and along the gulf coast six years ago.  A magnitude 9 earthquake and a horrendous Tsunami did it for folks in Japan a few weeks ago.  A storm system that tore across the southern states did it for millions of people here just a couple of weeks ago.

At times like those, it is common to hear cries for God’s help and presence, for strength and patience, for protection. 

But when things are good, when there is no threatening wave, no storm, no earth rumbling beneath our feet, how readily do we find ourselves crying out to God for that same help, that same presence, or strength, patience, and protection?

The same can be said for times when we are sick over and against times when we are healthy.  Why is it that we so readily call to God in times of distress rather than times of plenty? 

I think what we have to struggle against is this idea that we don’t need help when things seem to be okay.  That it is only necessary to look for help when things are not okay. 

C. S. Lewis wrote, “God allows us to experience the low points of life in order to teach us lessons that we could learn in no other way.”

It does seem to hold true, that we just don’t learn something in theory as completely as we do when we learn it in practice. 

So with a few notable and significant exceptions across the world, we have been the beneficiaries of an extended period of freedom in the practice and sharing of our faith.  There are few instances that any of US can recall when we were attacked – and by that I mean physically assaulted – for doing or saying something that indicated that we were followers of Jesus.  In fact, I think it would be almost a safe assumption that if I were to ask for a show of hands of people who had experienced intense persecution for what they believed, I would be surprised to see any hand go up. 

On the one hand, part of me wants to celebrate that.  To know that we live in a time and a place where we don’t have to face persecution and are free to share our faith and to live it without any hindrance is an unmitigated blessing. 

On the other hand, part of me is uneasy about that.  Insofar as we are prone to be lulled into a sense of complacency, and we easily forget the more radical nature of Christ’s call on our lives.  Because is really is a call to radical discipleship, to radical commitment, to radically reimagining what the world could look like if all those who claim Jesus as Lord let him actually BE Lord of their lives. 

How much injustice would be corrected?  How much hunger and poverty would be eradicated?  How much justice and compassion would be evident where it is now absent?  How many would truly act as brothers and sisters rather than pay lip service only, but make no move in the practice of daily living?

Can we really see what that world would look like?  Can we really trust God to the point where we actually take the steps that Jesus calls us to in following him?   

Do we really trust God like we say we do?

  

Hannah Whitehall Smith, a Quaker from New Jersey who lived and worked and preached at the turn of the last century, believed and staked her entire life on this idea that we are to really, truly, completely trust God; with our souls, with our lives, with our all. She wrote a prayer that speaks to the awareness of what it truly means to give up our idea of self-sufficiency and self-reliance and live in that radical faith that relies ultimately and solely on God through Jesus Christ.

Pray her prayer with me:

"Lord Jesus, I believe that Thou art able and willing to deliver me from all the care and unrest and bondage of my life. I believe that Thou didst die to set me free, not only in the future, but here and now.

I believe that Thou art stronger than my sin, and that Thou canst keep me, even me, in my weakness, from falling....

"So Lord, I am going to trust Thee to keep me. I have tried keeping myself and I have failed…. So now I will trust Thee. I give myself to Thee. I keep back no reserves. Body, soul and spirit, I present myself to Thee....

"And I believe Thou doest accept that which I present to Thee ... That this poor, weak and foolish heart has been taken possession of by Thee, and that Thou hast even at this very moment begun to work in me to will and to do Thy good pleasure. So I trust Thee completely, O God, and I trust Thee now." In Jesus’ name. Amen.