John 14:15-21

‘If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This 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.

‘I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They 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.’

What would you say on your deathbed, your last lecture, your farewell speech? Would you offer sage advice? Share your favorite stories? Or maybe crack a few jokes you’ve learned along the way?

We don’t get much of any of that from Jesus’ farewell to his disciples. That’s what we hear from that passage from John. We are still in the season of Easter, but today we return to the words he spoke to his disciples just before his crucifixion.

At first he seems like he is doing something you're told not to do on a deathbed and that’s asking for promises. It’s as if Jesus is saying, “if you love me, promise me you’ll keep my commandments.” Talk about manipulation and guilt?! But that’s not what Jesus is after. It’s not a conditional, if/then. He’s not asking for a promise. Rather, Jesus is saying you’ll know your love for me when you keep my commandments.

More importantly, Jesus is the one making promises on his deathbed. “I will give you another Advocate and he will be with you forever”. That word for Advocate can be translated in many different ways: counselor, helper, but also comforter. Jesus is offering assurance to terrified disciples, telling them, “I cannot stay here with you, but don’t worry. I am giving you the Holy Spirit, who will be a comforter to you.”

Now that’s a beautiful promise. I’m sure the disciples needed it. I’m sure some of you need it today! But what does that mean or look like? I mean how is the Holy Spirit going to give not just the disciples, but give you and I comfort here and now, in this life?

Well I think I’ve seen that comfort in Ben Sasse, who is also giving his farewell speech. Sasse, as you may know, was senator from Nebraska, serving from 2013 to 2023. He left under his own volition and became the president of the University of Florida. Before all that, he was the president of Midland University, a small ELCA college in Midland, NE.

Since early February, Ben has been doing interviews and podcasts at breakneck speed because he’s dying. In December of 2025 Ben found out he had cancer. Actually, he found out he had five different types of cancer that had metastasized into 47 tumors, tormenting his torso and the rest of his body. They gave him 90 days to live.

Which is perhaps why you have seen clips of him or his name on your social media feed. When asked why he’s spending so much time with interviewers and journalists, he said, “I did not decide to die in public. But even with three to four months left to live, you have to redeem the time. There’s only so many bits of unsolicited advice I can give my children. So, you journalists want to talk, and if you don’t have anybody better, I’m your huckleberry.”

From all I’ve seen and heard in the talks and interviews, Ben is doing a bit of everything in his farewell speech. He cracks some jokes, he tells great stories like one explaining what’s happening in this photo of him, looking like he’s a bit hungover or had a workout (you decide), and Chuck Schumer holding a giant cig in his right hand.

And as expected he gives sage advice. Advice that comes with the clarity that, according to Ben, only comes with having a terminal diagnosis. For him, his cancer has clarified what matters and he feels a responsibility to use whatever time is left for the good of others. And while Sasse and I may be on different ends of the theological spectrum, his clarity on a number of issues is compelling.

He speaks about everything from AI to politics and the way our screens, addictions, and tribalism are reshaping us. But what I find most compelling from his farewell speech is not the advice, stories, or hot takes. Rather, it’s his regrets.

He wishes he hadn’t worked so much. He laments how much he traveled. He would have locked away phones and turned off screens at the dinner table, because you don’t get that sacred time back. He would have taken sabbath more seriously, undistracted by sports or the ever present lure of work. He would have strengthened bonds with family: siblings, cousins, parents.

And somehow he says all this without despair… , even though he has regrets, even though he knows deeply the mistakes he made, he still has comfort in these last days. In all the interviews I have seen and heard, Ben is noticeably weak, doped up on morphine and nauseous, yet something strengthens him. I mean look at him here with this interview with the NYT. He is literally bleeding from his face because he can’t grow skin as a result from his chemo, yet he doesn’t hide it one bit! How can he have such comfort in the midst of such regret, pain, evil, and death?

I can’t help but think this is the Comforter at work in one’s life, the Holy Spirit giving comfort today in the here and now. Because what I hear in Ben Sasse is that he can name these regrets, these mistakes because he knows, he trusts that he is forgiven. Not only by his family, but by God, too. He can call cancer evil, but at the same time, sanctifying because he now has a divine dependence he never knew before and likely wouldn't have, had this not happened to him. He can call death the enemy, but also trust in the full healing that comes after it.

Such comfort I can only understand as coming from outside of himself, from God at work through the Holy Spirit, assuring him of his forgiveness, giving clarity about what matters most, and supporting him when he can’t support himself.

It’s tempting to hear comfort and imagine soft sheets, fluffy pillows, or simply a calmness. But I don’t think that’s the comfort Jesus promises nor what the Spirit gives. Comfort is not the removal of suffering, but the freedom to tell the truth. It’s not emotional numbness but courage to face regret. And it certainly isn’t empty platitudes, but the ability to face death without despair.

The Spirit gives more than just coping skills.

And I see that in Ben’s farewell speech. He is still grieving. Still suffering. Still regretting. Still dying. And yet something holds him. Strengthen hims. Comforts him. And when I look at him and hear him, I can’t help but believe that is the comfort of the Holy Spirit, the promise of Jesus manifested in this life.

How this comfort comes? Or what exactly the Holy Spirit does to cause it? I don’t know and Jesus doesn’t explain it. Nor do I think Jesus is all that concerned in the mechanics. He is more interested in the promise, to the disciples, to Ben Sasse, and to you and I; that when you face regrets, when you are confronted by pain and evil, when death is inevitable, because it is, you will not be orphaned, left to face any of it alone. You have a comforter.

I pray you know that comfort. I pray I offer it to you. I pray the Holy Spirit works through you to offer it to someone else.

Because the truth is, we are all moving toward a farewell speech of our own. One day there will be regrets we cannot undo, suffering we cannot avoid, and a death we cannot outrun.

And when that day comes, Jesus does not offer explanations. He does not provide escape. He promises this: you will not be orphaned.

And maybe that is the comfort of the Holy Spirit. Not the removal of pain, but the assurance that even there, in grief, in weakness, in death itself, you are not abandoned.

That is the work of the Father who promises,

the Son who assures,

and the Holy Spirit who abides with us still.

Amen.

Mark 3:20-35

…and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, “He has gone out of his mind.” And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, “He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.” And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, “How can Satan cast out Satan? If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come. But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.

“Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”— for they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.”

Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

Grace, mercy, and peace be yours today from God: Father, +Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

With the two fine preachers we have here at Cross of Grace, I didn’t think I would have another chance to be at this pulpit, but I am grateful for it as they are off tending to the business of the larger church. And we pray for them in that work.

This Gospel text is a sort of mishmash is it not? It jumps around from Jesus and the crowds to Jesus and the temple scribes and to Jesus and his family. And what is central to it all is that Jesus is caught in the middle—in the middle of the crowds;

in the middle of a dispute with the scribes;

and in the middle of a family squabble.

But, reading the Gospels, that’s where we often find Jesus—Caught in the Middle.

At the beginning of the text, we find Jesus going home. He had just picked his twelve disciples and no doubt had been on the dusty roads for a time and wanted peace and quiet and a home cooked meal.

But the crowds followed him home and were so big and persistent that Jesus and his new friends could not even eat their meal. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus was always drawing crowds —he was famous for his healing miracles…for changing water into wine…and for his teaching. Sometimes he had to flee from them. Once he even had to escape on a boat.

These pressing crowds remind me of the Caitlin Clark effect. She can’t go anywhere these days. Kids and adults hound her for an autograph and hand slaps as she comes and goes on the court her presence is filling arena across the country. I’m guessing she can’t even go to a restaurant without crowds bothering her.

Jesus’ own family went out to rescue him as the crowds were saying he was crazy. Jesus was caught in the middle of it all.

And then came the confrontation with the scribes—those annoying holy men who professed to have all the truths about God and saying how Jesus should be acting/behaving if he was truly God’s son.

They tried to trap him by equating him with Satan and deeming him a blasphemous, false messiah. In refuting his baptism by the Holy Spirit; claiming that he associated with all the wrong people; by not behaving as a righteous person should behave, they were trying to make the case against him. In so doing they themselves were blaspheming against the Holy Spirit and this is when Jesus has enough and utters his word about that sin being the only unforgivable one.

Jesus caught in the middle of disputes between the Scribes and Pharisees—the religious establishment of the day would ultimately lead to his arrest and death.

And then the text closes with Jesus back with the crowds and his family outside the home. This is where it gets a bit sticky. The crowd tells Jesus that his mother and siblings are asking for him, and it seems as though Jesus denies his immediate family, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And then motioning with his hands and arms to those gathered, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother. Again, we see Jesus caught in the middle of his family and the crowds.

How do you think his mother and siblings took that? I’m thinking probably not too well. Did they think he was denying them their place in his life? What’s up with that? It seems very harsh.

I think we can all admit that families can be messy at times. There are misunderstandings. There can be harsh words.

There can be addictions, diseases, and divorces that hurt and divide.

There can be some family members who disavow faith and worship.

There can be family members who are incarcerated.

There are congregations (a wonderful expression of a family, right?) who are more interested in judging and condemning than embracing. There can be unloving actions that exclude LGBT+ family members—I’ve been a witness to that. I heard of a church sign this week that said, “God wants our humility, not pride.” Surely that is a direct hit aimed at Pride month. How will LGBT+ folks take that sign? Think they will feel welcome in that mainline church? And I read that the Southern Baptist Convention is scheduled to vote soon to expel any congregation that calls a woman pastor.

Yes, our families of origin and our church families can be messy.

As the 21st century disciples of Jesus we had better find ourselves in the middle. In the middle of religious disputes with words of forgiveness, truth, justice, and hope.

We had better be in the middle of secular disputes around corruption, racial injustice, voting rights and equal rights for all. That’s where we will find Jesus, and he expects us to be at his side in the middle of it all.

All Jesus was doing that day as he looked at those sitting around him and saying, “Here is my family” was enlarging his family, not downsizing it. He didn’t deny his own biological one. And we know that as he was dying on the cross for you and me, and for the sake of the world, he looked down at one of the disciples and said, “You take care of my mother.” He loved his immediate family even if they couldn’t understand his life’s mission.

And he loves us even as we struggle to find the courage, patience, and grace to be caught in the middle with Jesus—right where he wants and expects us to be.

Amen.