Unity in Christ is not sameness in Christ; in our baptism we are made one with each other even as the Triune God is one, a oneness of love not of identicality.  And this unity is given by God, made by God, done by God.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, the Seventh Sunday of Easter, year A; text:  John 17:1-11

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Reading a history of 2,000 years of the Christian Church is not for the squeamish or faint of heart.  Though one starts with the love of God made known in Christ Jesus, somewhat quickly thereafter it degenerates into power struggles and hatreds over faith in the same Christ Jesus.

I recently read such a comprehensive history; I also recently taught a Forum on the Nicene Creed.  Today we hear our Lord Jesus pray, on the night of his betrayal, that all his followers would be one, even as the Father and the Son are one.  What I read and what I studied for that class would seem to clash deeply with our Lord’s prayer.

Much of the life of the Church over the centuries has been given over to the task of enforcing unity (always assuming the enforcer has the truth and the enforcee does not.)  So we have creeds that speak the agreement of the Church on the nature of the Triune God.  This is good.  But at the cost of a large number of faithful disciples of Jesus being cast out as heretics.  The more power the Church assumed, the more forcefully the Church mandated unity.  Not too long after the Emperor Constantine made us the favored religion, believers adopted the murderous and violent ways of the world into which our Lord sent us out in love and peace.  We started killing each other when we disagreed.  Because, you see, unity is what our Lord wants.  So let’s give it to him.  At whatever cost.

It is often said that it is a scandal the Church is so divided in our time.  East from West, Rome from Protestants, Baptists from Lutherans.  Denominations and sects proliferate all over the planet.  Yet Jesus prayed that we be one.  Scandalous.

I wonder.  I wonder very much.  I wonder if in fact our Lord is actually pleased with at least part of our situation.  That is, the part where if some of us see the truth about the Triune God revealed in Christ in one way and others in another, we aren’t fighting a war or burning at the stake to prove who’s right any more.  Given the richness of human experience and the variety of the gifts of the Spirit, perhaps our Lord in fact expected that we would no more agree at all times with each other’s theological point of view today than did the authors of Matthew and John, or did the apostles Peter and Paul.

There is still a fundamental scandal, of course, that the many and various groups of Christians by and large can’t stand each other, relatively few are in full communion with each other, and some of them can’t even get too close to each other lest they start fighting.

In short, perhaps the true scandal is not that we have disagreements and denominations, but that we do not love each other.  That we sit in our own self-centered theological enclaves and throw potshots at the others; sometimes being good to those who seem to have similar enclaves, but disdainful of those who do not.  (Let us be honest: how often do we hear a Christian speak in public who disagrees with us or offends us and think, well, they’re not really Christian after all, not like us?)

In our liturgy I invite our confession of the Nicene Creed with the words of the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, from the fourth century: “Let us love one another, that with one mind we may confess the Holy Trinity, one in essence and undivided.”  The liturgy says we can only begin to confess our faith if we begin by loving each other.

That would be a good start, would it not?

Jesus prayed to the Father “that they be one, as we are one.”  What if what he meant was in love?

The deeply mysterious life of the Triune God is lived between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and according to the witness of the New Testament, is simply and only love.  The Father loves the Son who loves the Spirit who loves the Father who loves the Spirit who loves the Son who loves the Father.

Whatever we know about how God is one God, yet three Persons, we know because of the witness of the Son, who lives in the bosom of the Father, that the heart of God for us is love.  So the heart of God within God’s own self is also love.  Did not the elder already teach us this in 1 John?

Yet that oneness in love does not mean identicality.  The Father is not the Son, and the Son is not the Spirit, and the Spirit is not the Father.

Whatever we know about how God is one God, yet three Persons, we know because of the witness of the Son that Father, Son, and Spirit are also not the same.  What is revealed to us, what we’ve experienced, is what we know of God, and from the beginning the Church has experienced the difference of each while affirming the unity of all.

This is mystery, so much so that in a couple weeks we will have a festival just to revel in the mystery of the Triune God.

Yet Jesus said, “As we are one, may they be one.”

What if unity in Christ also doesn’t mean sameness in Christ?  Just as the unity of the Triune God doesn’t mean sameness?  What if being the Body of Christ with many members, eyes, hands, feet, all sorts, means many points of view, many insights, many ways of being faithful followers?

That is, it may be the world desperately needs both Baptists and Lutherans.  Romans and Protestants.  Western and Orthodox.  It may be there are things these sisters and brothers need to teach us that we cannot hear if we do not begin to love them.  It may actually be a strength that we’re not mandating by force that we agree all the time.

In fact, it certainly must be that the Spirit speaks in different ways to the children of God baptized into the Triune Name.

It seems to me that we’ve confused the important thing: there is a truth about God in the world that is revealed in Jesus the Son that heals the creation – with the impossible thing: that we can definitively know and own that truth, and worse, defend it.

That is to say, to claim that our unity in Christ does not require sameness is not to say it doesn’t matter what we believe or teach.  It means that our unity is in Christ, not in our understanding, and that’s a very different thing.

And if we are like God in our variety, Christ also seems to want us to be like God in the unity of our love.  The unity of the disciples of Christ on earth is in the love we have received from God through our Lord Jesus Christ, and enflamed by the Spirit’s gift-giving.  Just as the Triune God’s unity is lived in love.

Jesus couldn’t be clearer, much as we close our eyes and hope it goes away: the only sign of our discipleship to the world is our love for each other.  What if John 13:35 would be proclaimed to all the world, so that everyone knew that disciples of Jesus could only be recognized by how they loved each other?  Would the world see any?

And can we honestly say that we in our own little group of agreement – 61 million Lutherans among 2.2 billion Christians – are enough to bear Christ’s justice and love in the world, without loving collaboration with all the disciples of Christ?

“As we are one,” Jesus said.  The prayer is that we are one as the Triune God is one: different, varied, but one in love.  Different gifts, different understandings, but one in love.

“As we are one,” Jesus said.  What if he really meant that?

Oh, and as long as we’re paying attention to Jesus here, could we notice what he’s doing?  He’s praying, not commanding.

The Son is asking the Father in prayer (in the mystery of the Triune God) to make this so among us.  That is, our unity in love for each other is not something we can even do, much less enforce.  It, like everything else, is gift, grace, empowerment.  The Son is asking the Father to send the Spirit (if we look ahead in the prayer) to come and make us holy that we be one as God is one.

So could we stop thinking we’ve got a choice in this?  That we have a say?  That we are in control, not the Triune God?

This is all simple, it is not new, it is something we confess all the time: in our baptism into Christ we are made one with God and with each other.

That means all the baptized children of God, made one by the power of God working in water and Word through the grace of the Holy Spirit in us.  Our unity is not based on our agreement or intelligence or brilliant theology, it is our reality in baptism already.

All we need to hear is that the Spirit is calling us to love each other in that unity, to let the Spirit lead us deeper and deeper into the loving dance that is the life of the Triune God, and that is given us as our dance in this world, that we also become one as God is one.

So that ultimately all will know God’s love.  You see, once we start moving to this impulse of the Spirit, flowing in this love for each other as disciples of Christ across all denominations, then maybe we’ll begin to find the maturity we’re going to need to love those of different faiths.

Because I’m quite certain Christ Jesus has that in mind for us as well.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

In the face of evil, suffering, and our own shortcomings, it can be difficult to see how Jesus has made the world or us new. He promises, however, that the Holy Spirit, who has been poured out onto us in our baptisms, is transforming us and equipping us to complete his work of inviting all people into relationship with the Triune God.  

Vicar Emily Beckering; the Ascension of Our Lord; texts: Luke 24:44-53; Acts 1:1-11

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

The trouble with the ascension is that Jesus leaves us so that we may finish his work, and the prospect of that can feel not only frightening, but impossible.

We, like the disciples, may wonder how and when Jesus’ crucifixion, resurrection, and the gift of the Holy Spirit will make a difference in the world around us and in our own hearts.

The disciples ask, “Is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”

Whether the disciples are asking for Jesus to free Israel from Roman occupation or whether they are asking him if now is the time when the kingdom that he preached will come among them, they yearn to see some tangible difference.

In the same way, we yearn for some visible sign that God is bringing about change in the world and in our own hearts.

We, too, may stare up at the sky with arms open asking, “Since Jesus was crucified and is risen, and has made all things new, why is there still so much suffering and evil in the world?” People still starve to death. Children are still kidnapped and held hostage. Wars still ravage countries. Those whom we love are still subject to cancer and illness.

The Holy Spirit has been poured out onto us in our baptisms, yet we may still wonder where the change is that Jesus has promised will happen in our hearts. How long do we have to wait until we have this Christian life figured out? How long will we struggle with sin and relearn lessons that we thought we had already learned? When will we finally be able to make the right choices in our relationships and love as we are called?

And yet in the face of these realities—a broken, hurting world and imperfect disciples who still do not understand—Jesus leaves and tells us that we will be the ones who will bring to completion God’s plan of restoring the world.

At which point, we may find ourselves asking Jesus along with the disciples, “Wouldn’t it just be better if you do it? When are you going to fix everything? How can we possibly do this job?”

But in response, Jesus tells us, and those earliest disciples, that God intends to complete Jesus’ work through us and gives us the Holy Spirit to do it.

Even though we know this, the nagging question still remains: if God desires and promises to be with us, then why must the Son of God be physically absent from us? Why can’t the one who was crucified and raised finish the work of preaching forgiveness? And since it takes us a lifetime to learn—and even then we still aren’t perfect—wouldn’t it just be better if God would do this work without us?

We want God to end hunger, to wipe out disease, to force armies to lay down their weapons, to remove militants and set kidnapped girls free, to just destroy the pieces of us that hurt others, and to crush everything about us that prevents us from living as God would have us live.

But that is not God’s way. The way of the cross continues to be God’s way even on the way to Pentecost. Jesus empties himself yet again, and as God did in the very beginning of creation, shares power with us rather than use it to control us or the world.

God could completely end hunger, or wars, or disarm militants by force, or just make you and me automatically who God would have us be, but that would require control and coercion that God is not willing to exercise.

Force and threats are not God’s way because they do not lead to healing or growth.

Only love can do that: the kind of love that God shows through Jesus, who enters into our very brokenness and suffering, taking it all on himself, and now, is made visible in us through the Holy Spirit who equips us to love. Our witness is how the world will be invited into, rather than forced into, relationship with the Triune God.

All this could sound like empty platitudes in the face of real suffering, disappointment, or evil to simply say, “Don’t worry, God is at work in you to make you and the entire world new.”

But the truth is, that that is exactly what Jesus promises us today, and it is no empty promise.

The Spirit of God is with us, transforming us and the world, and we have seen it.

The fruits of the Spirit that have been poured out onto are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Whenever we see these in the world, in one another, or in ourselves, the Spirit is at work.

Throughout this last month, we saw the Spirit when congregations around the world joined together to pray for the children kidnapped in Nigeria. As the church prays for all these girls, and we pray especially for Naomi, the Spirit of God is working to turn all of our hearts to our neighbors, and giving strength and courage to those in Nigeria and to governments throughout the world to work for their return.

This last week, when you signed letters for Bread for the World, and next week when you feed community members, the Spirit of God is at work to end hunger.

And when you notice that this time, rather than demanding your own way with your partner, spouse, children, parents, friend, or even someone whom it is usually very difficult to love, you lifted up their needs, gave forgiveness freely, or saw Christ’s reflection in them, the Spirit of God was moving.

Even though it may be slow-going, and we or the world might take two steps back for every one-step that the Spirit leads us toward growth, it is well worth the wait according to God because the value is in a real, authentic relationship that comes from freely choosing to respond to God’s love for us and growing toward God in love and in faith. Because God values this growth, the Spirit is with us and will continue to be at work.

Tonight, just as God did on that original Mount of Olives—first through the presence of Jesus and then through the angels who appeared to the disciples after he ascended—our Lord calls us back from fear of being alone or ill-suited for the task given to us. By the power of the Holy Spirit, Christ is forever with us and will forever be working through us to offer forgiveness, to show his love, to invite all people into relationship with him, and to wipe away every tear from their eyes until that time when death, mourning, crying and pain will be no more.

Amen.

The Holy Spirit, the One called alongside us, accompanies us by strengthening us, guiding us, bringing us to faith, transforming us to be Christ, and revealing Christ in our midst. Today, the Spirit calls us alongside others so that we, too, may accompany a world that longs to see Christ. 

Vicar Emily Beckering, the Sixth Sunday of Easter, year A; text: John 14:15-21.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

If you have ever served as an accompanist to a soloist, ensemble, or congregation, then you know that there is a great difference between accompanying and performing on your own. It is a difference that is essential for musicians who are new to the art to learn. Even if we have not been an accompanist, we all know what difference the cantor makes as we worship together. The accompanist is sensitive to the needs and gifts of the other musicians, supporting them in phrasing and expression, prepared to bring them back in if they get lost, leading yet moving along with them, thus strengthening and empowering those whom she or she accompanies.

In the gospel today, we hear just what difference the Holy Spirit, whom we have received in our baptisms, makes for our daily lives. The work of the Holy Spirit, and in turn the work that the Holy Spirit equips us to do, is not unlike the work of the accompanist.

Today Christ promises, “The Father will give you another Advocate to be with you forever. You know him because he abides with you and will be in you.” 

“Advocate” could also be translated “Comforter, Helper, Counselor.” The trouble with each of these names is that there is not a single English word that encompasses the full meaning of what Jesus tells us about the person and work of the Holy Spirit. Each of these names gives us a glimpse of the Holy Spirit but ultimately falls short of expressing the full extent of the Holy Spirit’s power.

The Holy Spirit is an advocate in the sense that the Spirit speaks for us when our own words fail us, for we know from the gospels that we can be confident when we witness because the Holy Spirit will give us just what we need. We know from Paul that the Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words when we pray. The Spirit is not only an Advocate, but also a Comforter who encourages us in times of distress and gives us faith when we doubt. And the Holy Spirit is also a Counselor who guides us along the path that God desires for us, reveals to us when we are living contrary to how God would have us live, and teaches us to follow Christ.

The Spirit does all of this, yet even more because the name that Jesus gives to the Spirit here literally means “the one called alongside.” Here is where the image of the accompanist helps us: the Holy Spirit is called alongside us for the journey, accompanying us, not guiding from far away, but right there with us in the very midst of the journey, working for and through us.

The Holy Spirit is sent to dwell with us, to accompany us along the way because God the Father will not be separated from us and God the Son refuses to leave us orphaned or abandoned. The very presence of the Holy Spirit makes communion with the Triune God possible: we are invited into an intimate relationship with the Trinity where we are brought into the very presence of God. Just as Jesus promises, the Holy Spirit reveals that Christ is in us and we are in Christ. In this relationship, we are never without our Lord. We never journey alone, but are always accompanied because the Triune God so desires to be with us. In that accompanying, the Spirit will comfort, and counsel, and speak for and through us.

Perhaps the most important aspect of Christ’s promise to us today is, in fact, that it is a promise. 

The power and presence of the Holy Spirit is not a condition based on our own abilities. The Spirit’s effectiveness in us or in the world does not depend on us. It is the Spirit’s power, not our own. The Spirit’s ability to reach us, to guide and transform us, extends beyond our feelings, beyond our intelligence, our limited perspectives, our tendency to miss how God is at work, and even beyond our sin which causes us to get in the way. The promise of the Holy Spirit’s dwelling with us, coming alongside us, assures us that God will be with us and at work as we seek to make decisions, to follow Christ, and to live as faithful servants.

Because the Spirit’s work and presence are promised, we need not fear as the world fears. We do not need to live in a state of worry, feeling the pressure that it is all up to us to figure everything out. All the “what-ifs” in this world have no power over us: what if we don’t know enough, have enough, aren’t enough? The truth is that we aren’t, but Christ is, and the Holy Spirit unites us with him.

Now we can actually live with hope: with the hope that the Spirit who dwells within us is always beckoning us, always opening us up to one another, always guiding us and transforming us to live as Christ in the world. We do not live with fear, but with expectation: every moment could be a moment when the Spirit leads us to someone, brings someone whom we need to us, shapes us to live anew as Christ, or reveals how Christ is already at work in the world around us. We live listening and on the lookout.

If we are oriented to view all of life this way, wondering how God is at work in us and in the world, then the question naturally becomes: what does it look like, sound like, feel like when the Spirit is moving in our midst? How do we know when, where, or into what the Holy Spirit is calling us?

Recognizing how the Holy Spirit is working may not be a matter of having an intense spiritual experience or of knowing something with absolute certainty. We may not always feel the Holy Spirit’s presence or know exactly which decision to make, which is why we cling instead to Christ’s promise that the Holy Spirit accompanies us, is by our side working through and for us—even when we make mistakes—and will be there to call us back when we go astray.

Sometimes this happens in the form of a gentle tugging, or a nudging: like when someone is continually brought up in our minds and hearts and we know that we need to reach out to them. Other times, the Spirit’s voice comes to us through our brothers or sisters in Christ when they encourage us, remind us what is true, or tell us honestly when we have been going down the wrong path. We know for sure that the Spirit speaks through scripture, the preached word, and the bread and wine in order to reveal Christ. The Spirit, however, is not limited to these mediums; God finds many ways to reach us. We cannot control or predict how we will be reached; we only know that the Spirit will find a way.

Though it happens many ways, one thing is clear from Jesus’ words for us today: when the Holy Spirit is at work, it always looks like Christ. This is why we often don’t recognize the work of the Spirit until after the fact, until the presence of Christ has already been revealed. The reason that the Spirit is “another Advocate” is because Jesus was the first. We see the Spirit at work whenever someone acts like Jesus, shows Christ’s love, offers forgiveness, gives of themselves for the benefit of someone else: every time that Christ is seen.

This is what the Holy Spirit is always at work doing, always beckoning us into, and always transforming us to be: Christ. 

Jesus tells us, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” And what is his command but to love one another and the world as he loves us. The Holy Spirit makes that possible. The work of the One who is called alongside us is to call us alongside the world in order to be Christ’s presence, to show Christ’s love, and to offer Christ’s forgiveness.

We are not sent to quiet people’s fears by dismissing them or avoiding them, thus saying “Peace, peace” when there is not peace. We are not sent to speak for our neighbors without taking the time to listen to them. We are not sent to help our neighbors by attempting to solve their struggles our own way.

Being called alongside is very different from any of these approaches.

An accompanist neither overpowers nor abandons the soloist or ensemble when it is struggling, but instead strengthens them by moving with them and giving them the support that they need. God does not deal with our brokenness or our suffering by punishing us, avoiding us, abandoning us, or taking us out of harm’s way. Instead, the Triune God enters into the very midst of our struggle, strengthening us, guiding us, and transforming us from the inside out. As God dwells with us, so we are to dwell with one another.  As the Holy Spirit accompanies us, so we are sent to accompany one another and all of our neighbors: to walk alongside each other, to stand in solidarity with each other, to enter into one another’s pain, to listen so deeply to each other and the Holy Spirit who speaks through us, that after we have listened, we all understand ourselves and God’s desires for us all a little more clearly. We will even be accompanied as we accompany, for it is the Spirit who empowers us to love this way.

And so the Holy Spirit looks like you, dear sisters and brothers, when you accompany a broken, hurting world. 

Every time that we meet evil and injustice with unwavering love and peace, every time that we seek unity out of division, ever time that we are turned from commending ourselves or getting our own way and turned toward listening to the needs of those around us and lifting them up, every time that we choose forgiveness instead of revenge, and offer relationship in the face of rejection: the Spirit is at work to show Christ. The Holy Spirit poured out onto us in our baptisms, who is called alongside us, will be at work, forever opening our eyes to see Christ again, and transforming us to be Christ for all whom we are called alongside.

This peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard and keep our hearts and our minds in Christ Jesus.

Amen. 

The promise of life in God’s house after we die is only part of Jesus’ message and call to us: in this life we are to live the way, reveal the truth, and share the life that we have in Christ Jesus so that others may also know that they are known and loved by God.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, the Fifth Sunday of Easter, year A; texts:  John 14:1-10 (add 13:33-38); 1 Peter 2:1-10

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

One of the certain signs that our nature is broken and bent is that human beings – alright, let’s just say it, we – tend to want to respond to security, love, grace, all sorts of good we receive, by restricting it, clinging to it, believing it’s our possession alone.  Almost as if we think if we don’t, there won’t be enough to go around.  So siblings play the game of “who was Mother’s favorite” with each other well past adulthood, sometimes in fun, but often with an undercurrent of genuine anxiety or insecurity.  People who belong to groups which give them a sense of companionship and family become concerned about letting others into their group, about rules for joining, as if the companionship is lessened if others try to share in it.  Christians certainly do this on a regular basis.

We don’t just restrict, though.  We often warp the whole message of the Son of God so that all we hear is the promise that we are saved and given eternal life after we die, and we hear none of the rest of what our Lord taught.  So we sometimes act and live as if the whole point of the salvation the Triune God brought into the world through the Son was to save us.  End of story.

This isn’t new.  The people of Israel are the chosen people of the Lord God, creator of all.  At various times in their life as such, they have sometimes believed that being chosen was for themselves, to be set apart from the rest of the world.  Most religions, in fact, bend toward this sinfulness and self-centeredness.  As long as we know we’re loved by God, that’s all that matters.

In some ways these words of Jesus today have served as rationale for such thinking by Christians.  These words are often read at funerals, and of course the implication is that the one who has died has died in the confidence that he or she has a room prepared in the Father’s house for them.  That’s a good promise to hold, a true comfort, and it is truth.  Where we’ve taken it too far, however, is to read these verses as simply that, a promise that I can hold that I will have a place prepared for me.  That the whole point of Jesus’ words here is to give each of us comfort in life after death.

But in context, and that’s why I began reading the Gospel in chapter 13 and not where the lectionary asked, in context there’s a completely different feel to these words.  If we hear everything Jesus says at this moment, it’s clear that the promise of eternal life is only part of what he wants them to hear.  The greater message is what he needs of them now, in this life, while he’s gone from them.

You see, all of these words, and the many to follow in John, come on the night of Jesus’ betrayal, his leaving just ahead.  That’s important.

Jesus is about to head to his death, and for three chapters John gives Jesus’ words on this night.  But they’re not typical “last words” kind of speech.  We’d expect the comfort of John 14:2-3, the words about the Father’s house and that Jesus is coming back for the disciples.  If he’s going to die, and even after rising only stay for a little over a month, giving them the promise that he’s making a place in the Father’s house for them is important.  He’s telling them to trust that all will be well, even if it looks like things are going terribly wrong.  That’s a good promise.

But in context, there’s so much more.

He has washed their feet, acted the role of a servant, and told them to take on this role.  So even though he is leaving, he is going to die, he needs them to start acting as servants.  Life will go on after his death and resurrection, and this he needs them to do.

He deepens the command just after Judas leaves them, with the words we heard today, that they have a new commandment to love each other as he has loved them (and will love them in dying on the cross), that this will be the only sign of their being disciples.  So even though he is leaving, he is going to die, he needs them to start loving sacrificially, even to the point of dying if needed.  Life will go on after his death and resurrection, and this he needs them to do.

And just after these words of comfort about his Father’s house, he tells these frightened and confused disciples that they will do great works in his name, greater even than his works. So even though he is leaving, he is going to die, he needs them to expect that there will be ministry to be done, even great things to be done in his name.  Life will go on after his death and resurrection, and this he needs them to do.

Taking these words of promise in eternal life as our possession and the end of the story misses the tremendous call to follow and serve that Jesus is speaking in these words.

Think about it: we know the whole story.  We know that he’s hours away from a brutal death.  We know that Peter’s hours away from a humiliating betrayal.  And his first thought, after telling Peter that he will deny him, is to calm Peter’s heart, calm all their hearts: “Do not let your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me.”

But this is not just a comfort to hold on to when they see him die the next day.  Because he almost immediately says that belief in him will empower them to continue his ministry, regardless of what happens tomorrow, and do even more amazing things.

That is, serve others even more deeply than he does.  Love each other and the world even more sacrificially than he does.  And bring God’s love enfleshed into the world by their lives even more than he has.  This isn’t last words that are intended to make them, or us, feel only comfort.  These are last words that are giving us a job to do, and the power to do it.

And the only way we can hear it is to stop thinking that “the Way, the Truth, and the Life,” and the rooms in the Father’s house, are a private message for us to cherish and hold and keep locked in our hearts until we need them.

When Israel turned in on itself as chosen people, God told the prophet Isaiah to change their direction.  Now Jesus is doing the same to us.

In an astonishing sentence, the prophet, in speaking of Israel as God’s servant, tells them they have a new job.  “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel,” the LORD speaks through Isaiah.  “I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.”  (Isaiah 49:6)

Isn’t that breathtaking?  Saving Israel isn’t enough for God; they are chosen to bring light to the whole world.

And that’s absolutely what Jesus is about.

At Pentecost Luke says there were about 120 believers gathered, so in the course of Jesus’ three years he developed a core group of 12 and about ten times that in other followers.  That’s not insignificant.  But if his promise in John 14 was only for those 120, it’s a pretty paltry promise.

Of course, for Jesus it was never just that.  His coming was for the whole world, John says in chapter 3, and Jesus himself says in chapter 12 that when he is lifted up on the cross he will draw all people to himself.  All people.  That’s a few more than 120.

And now we see part of what he means by our doing greater things than he did: in our embodying the love of God in the world as his followers, serving as he serves, loving as he loves, sacrificing as he sacrificed, we will reach all people.

Given that there are well over a billion people alive today who find life in the risen Christ, the Son of God, I’d say that was a greater reach than 120.  And if all of those well over a billion stopped thinking it was all for them, and heard this call to a greater vision, that all people would know God’s love in Christ Jesus, can we imagine what that would do in the world?

What this might mean is that we hear these words of Jesus as a job description instead of a doctrine of entrance.

Our call is to live into the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, instead of claiming that exclusively as if we controlled who is loved by God in Christ.

So if we follow the One who is the Way, that means we begin walking the Way with him.  The early Christians called the Church “the Way.”  We might want to return to that.  To live our lives of faith as if they are primarily a way of life, a way of journeying, shaped and guided by the teaching of our Lord and Savior, and a way to life in this world that is abundant and whole and radiating with grace and love.

So we aren’t seeing Jesus as “the Way” and thinking “ticket to heaven,” we’re seeing Jesus as “the Way” as our pilgrim guide in our journey of faith.  And in our walking, we begin to accompany the rest of the world on their journey, and perhaps, because we have learned something of what this Way of life means, we can be of help to them, be guides ourselves.

And if we follow the One who is the Truth, that means we begin to live as Truth with each other and the world.  This is a big change from seeing Truth as a thing to be owned, a thing to fight over, a thing to beat other people up with who don’t believe what we believe.

If our Lord Christ is the Truth, then he is the voice who speaks the truth about us to our inmost hearts, to those locked places we’ve been talking about, and calls us out to see not only the truth about our lives but the truth about God’s love that can change our lives.

When we begin to hear that truth about ourselves, then as we walk the Way with each other and the world, we can become truth-tellers to each other, helping each other deal with the ugly and the beautiful truths about us, and always living the great Truth of God’s undying love for the whole world that will end even the power of death over this world.  If in our walking that Truth radiated from us, think of the difference God could make in the world through us.

And last, if we follow the One who is the Life, that means we begin to live abundant life and be bearers of that divine Life in the world.  Think of the world if we were people who not only knew that the Way of Christ was the way out of death which only truth can reveal, but was a way to abundant, full life in the face of whatever happens, think of what the world would be.

If our response to death and evil and pain and suffering was to be Life in that place for others, and not to add more of the death and evil.  If our way of being brought life into the pain of this world, then in our walking the Way we could be part of God’s abundant life spreading to all people.

I know there’s a possibility that this all sounds too good to be true, and that a realist ought to have lower expectations.

I only know that Jesus told us this the night before his death, when he was fully aware of what he was going to, and fully prepared to do it.  I can’t imagine anyone more in touch with reality than our Lord at that moment.  And still, knowing what pain and confusion lay ahead for his beloved followers, he felt he needed to give them hope in what he would be able to accomplish through them.  And call them to that ministry.

Anything they ask, he said, he will accomplish.  Anything.  That’s the promise that comes with the call.  That we live the Way, live the Truth, live the Life we know in Christ Jesus, and that such living will do amazing things.  That we, as Peter says today, realize we are called and set apart not for ourselves but to declare the mighty acts of the One who called us out of darkness into his marvelous light.  So that all can see that light.  And through us, with the working of the Holy Spirit, even greater things than these will be done.

It might sound too good to be true.  But that’s only because it’s the most true thing we have ever heard.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Christ Jesus offers us abundant life, which is found following him into the world and opening our hearts to his transforming, both of which can be frightening; but we are in the care of our Good Shepherd, always.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen, the Fourth Sunday of Easter, year A; texts:  John 10:1-10; Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

There seems to be a difference of opinion in our readings today and it’s troubling.

Jesus says that he came that we might have life, and have it abundantly.  So why does Peter tell us that the actual example Jesus gave us to follow as disciples was suffering for doing what is right?  How is that abundant life?  And the Lord our Good Shepherd leads us on right paths for his name’s sake, paths which go to still waters and green pastures, but paths which also lead through the valley of the shadow of death?  If we are following God our Shepherd, and our Shepherd is Good, what on earth are we doing walking in the presence of our enemies and in valleys of shadows and death?  Shouldn’t a Good Shepherd guide us on safer paths than these?

Do you see the problem?  We are told we are safe and yet we are told we will suffer.  We are told we are guided and yet we are told we will go through dangerous places.  We do not fear, we say, because we are in the care of the Good Shepherd.  But it sounds like our Good Shepherd may need us to go places that aren’t always in the safe confines of a sheepfold.

So our question is: is it truly safe to follow this Shepherd after all?

It’s a question we need to answer since in at least three of our readings the call we hear is to know and listen to the voice of our Good Shepherd, and follow.

The first of Jesus’ images today is that of a group of flocks sheltered together near a village.  All are gathered into a common fold, with a gate and gatekeeper shared by all.  So when the shepherd is ready to go out in the morning, he or she calls to the sheep, and only the sheep belonging to that particular shepherd perk up and follow.

Jesus’ implication is pretty clear: do you know who your shepherd is, and if so, will you listen for his voice?  And if so, will you follow?  Or whose voice are you following in your life?  Peter’s letter says that discipleship is all about returning to our shepherd and guardian, and the psalm implies that we hear our Good Shepherd’s voice and follow always.

This may seem obvious, but is it?  We can seek comfort and hope from God, and find it in Christ Jesus, who reveals the love of the Triune God for us and for the world.  We can come here and confess and hear that we are forgiven.  We can come here and hope to hear that we are always in the love and care of God.

What we seem to find difficult is knowing what to do when our God calls us to follow.  As long as we can do what we want and live how we live, we’d like relationship with God.  But a call to follow implies change in us of any number of kinds: change of heart, change of behavior, change of lifestyle, change of mind.

It is impossible to encounter Christ Jesus and not hear this call.  Sometimes it’s a call to repentance: to turn around from where we’re going and go a different direction.  Sometimes it’s a call to love: to set aside our feelings and inclinations and offer love to those whom we find it hard to love.  Sometimes it’s a call to lose: to let go of what we cling to so we can be open to new life.

And none of these are easy.  This is part of the suffering for doing what is right Peter speaks of.  It’s not torture, as happens to many who follow Jesus in this world, it’s only a change of heart.  But it will be painful, and somehow we seem afraid of that.  I realize we seem to be talking about this a lot lately, but it’s hard to avoid that this is where the Scriptures are taking us, and always have been.

So when and how do we take it from our head and our knowledge and let it change our hearts and lives?  When and how do teach each other to we lift up our heads, in other words, when we hear our Shepherd’s voice, and start to follow?  Instead of following all the other voices we’ve been following.

This image of a protected sheepfold sounds an awful lot like the locked upper room in which the disciples placed themselves Easter week.  You can stay locked in the sheep pen and think you’re safe, locked behind closed doors.  But we’re not.

The disciples were met by the risen Christ inside their locked room, and he led them out into new life.  As a shepherd leads sheep out to pasture.  They couldn’t stay locked away, and not just because they were needed out there to reach others with the Good News.  The locks they really needed opened were the locks of their hearts behind which they were hiding in fear.

The real Easter transformation of the disciples wasn’t as much their going out and preaching.  It was their inner change that led to that.  The Spirit of God made them new people, changed people.  From the inside.  It wasn’t just the room that got unlocked.

And where they found life, so will we.  But not locked away in the sheepfold.

Abundant life from Christ Jesus is only found when the locks are off and the doors opened.

This just makes sense: how can we find real life if we’re always locked away?

And it’s really important that we see this as a first step toward discipleship, the beginning.  It’s easy to get distracted by the serving, by “what we should do.”  But it’s no good running a food shelf if our hearts are still locked away and our lives unchanged.

So we really want to begin with our hearts and with how we are with those closest to us.  If we have locked away any possibility of Christ Jesus calling us to a new way of being with those who are closest to us, how can we begin to think about loving our neighbors in the community or in the world?

If it is off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to give up being self-centered in our daily lives, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?  If it is off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to change how we react to people in our families, how we treat others in our congregation, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?

If it is off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to give up getting our own way, to ask us to let it go when others seem to disregard us, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?  If it is off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to adjust to others and make allowances for them instead of resenting that they don’t adjust to us and make allowances for us, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?

And if none of this happens, what would the point be for us as a community to talk about bearing the love of Christ into this neighborhood?  Diapers and meals are important and good.  But what if our Savior, our Shepherd actually wants us to change inside as well?

It seems that’s what his voice keeps calling to us.  Abundant life is when we unlock our hearts and are changed by the Holy Spirit.  When we are made new, then we really don’t have a lot of difficulty seeing where to serve, starting with those closest to us whom we love.

When we unlock the doors and let the Spirit change our inmost ways, then how we will live in the world – in our families, in our congregation, in our neighborhood, in our country and world – will become obvious.  Because we will be living in the joy of a new, abundant life.  Or at least on our way to it.  And we will want to share it.

There are two things that we absolutely need to remember about all of this.

First, Jesus comes in through our locked doors.  As much as we think we’ve locked away all our problems and the things we don’t want to change, Jesus is already there.  He’s good at coming through locked doors, is our Shepherd.  So he’s already inside us, wanting to give us peace.  Wanting to fill us with the Spirit.  We can no more keep him out than not breathe.

But second, we cannot go out through locked doors.  And out is the way to life.  That’s why our Shepherd calls to us.  He can and does come to us.  He can and does give us the key to open the doors.  To leave the sheep fold.

But our Shepherd will not force us out.  He won’t force us to be different.  He will not force us to follow.  Our Lord and Shepherd would have us hear his voice and come, willingly.

And maybe that’s the whole point of the Bible’s insistent witness that our Shepherd is Good.  Because there’s a lot that doesn’t seem safe in all of this, and could be frightening.  But if we know ahead of time, as we do, that the risen Christ, our Lord, is a Good Shepherd to us, then, then there’s no reason we wouldn’t want to learn to hear his voice.  And no reason we wouldn’t want to follow.

So do not be afraid.

You are loved by the God who made all things and who cares for you as a shepherd cares for her sheep, and who is known to us in our Good Shepherd, our risen Lord and Savior.

He is calling to you, to me, and asking us to follow.  But we do not fear, because even though this path will lead to loss and change and through frightening places, even in our own hearts, we are walking with and behind our Shepherd, who faced all such pain and suffering already and is risen.  He will keep us safe: from our enemies – both those inside us and outside of us – and safe even in valleys of shadow and death.

We have to leave what we thought were safe places because they actually aren’t safe, and we cannot live in them.  We can only live where our Shepherd shows us, and we can only have abundant life when he transforms us.

But let us not be afraid.  Because this is our Good Shepherd we are talking about.  Even death cannot stop his love for us, for you.  All will most certainly be well when we follow his voice.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen