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.”
This morning’s Gospel, on the Sixth Sunday after Easter’s good news, as we’re still called to be celebrating Jesus’ resurrection, we are taken back in time – back a few chapters into the narrative of the story – to before Jesus was crucified, died, and was buried. He had just washed the disciples’ feet. He had just given them the greatest command, to “love one another” the way they had already, first been loved, by him. And then he goes about preparing them for what’s coming next. Jesus is talking to and teaching the people he loves most about what to expect when it’s all said and done.
And not just the crucifixion, not just the dying, not even just his resurrection; but Jesus is talking about what to expect after he returns to the Father, again – when he’s no longer living and moving and breathing in the world in quite the same way they’ve come to know and to love.
And he knows, as you might imagine, that this will be hard for them. He knows they will have endured a lot already. That their faith will have waxed and waned, come and gone, flourished, faltered, and failed in a million different ways by then.
So I think Jesus connects his bodily death and resurrection – his physical death and burial and his physical reappearance – to what will happen for his followers when he is ultimately taken up and taken away again; when the Holy Spirit comes to be with them in the days that follow his ascension into heaven. It seems to me like Jesus is anticipating whatever questions and anxiety and doubts and whatever else they might’ve felt or feared to be without him, yet again.
So, when I wonder about this – when I wonder about what it’s like to be without Jesus and to miss him; to doubt God; to question my faith – I’m drawn back into those moments of despair between Good Friday and Easter morning – when all seemed lost; when death seemed to have had the last word; when evil and despair and sin snuffed out all hope; when his disciples, his family, his friends, and his followers thought God had failed them… because they would have forgotten so much of what they had been told and taught all along… because they would have forgotten what we just heard him promise them:
“I will not leave you orphaned. I am coming to you.” That’s a beautiful promise for the hours between Good Friday’s grief and Easter’s joy, don’t you think? “I will not leave you orphaned. I am coming to you.” And it’s a beautiful, hopeful promise for the days following his ascension, too: “I will not leave you orphaned. I am coming to you.” And it’s a beautiful promise for all of us, still: “I will not leave you orphaned. I am coming to you.”
Because, it’s a short walk from the empty tomb of joy and celebration and good news back into the world of despair and fear and bad news, am I right? Another Friday rolled around after that first Easter morning, after all – for the people of Jesus’ day and for the rest of us, just the same.
There is still a virus to contend with, for starters. There is still isolation and division and racism and poverty. There is still uncertainty about the economy; there is still political division; there is still sexism and injustice and hunger. There are surgeries to schedule and diagnoses to come and death – death still looms for us on the other side of God’s empty tomb.
Which is why we need this reminder from Jesus; this promise that God will not leave us orphaned. God is always coming to us, always coming after us, always making a way into our hearts and into our lives, even when we’re not sure that’s possible.
But what does that mean? Who is this “Advocate?” What is this Holy Spirit? When and how will he reveal himself to me? Where and how can I look for her in my life and in this world? How might I introduce him/her/it to someone who’s even more uncertain and unsure about all of this than I am on my worst days?
To tell you the truth, I probably wouldn’t break out the Bible, at first. I wouldn’t necessarily preach a sermon or tell them to take a class. I don’t think I’d even suggest they show up for worship, right away. Instead, I think I might suggest they take a look in the mirror.
“You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.”
See, when I think about how you explain to someone about the presence of God in their life – or if/when we need a reminder of that for ourselves – I think maybe it would help us to look in the mirror and see, in our own capacity to love our own children, just an inkling of God’s ability to love the world. And if you don’t have children, I hope you were loved well by a parent or a grandparent or a teacher or a coach or a friend, somewhere along the way – loved with some measure of passion, some measure of patience, some measure of grace and mercy.
I think that’s why Jesus talks so much about a Father when he describes God to his disciples. The love of a parent, on their best days, is like a picture of God’s love for the world. The love of a parent, on their best days, is just a measure of how deep and faithful and everlasting God’s love is for each of us. The love of a parent, on their best days, is just a portion of the love that comes our way from the God of our creation.
And I think something like this is true when it comes to the Holy Spirit – this Advocate Jesus talks about in this morning’s Gospel. Jesus says, “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.”
“You [already] know this Holy Spirit… because this Advocate abides with you… and because this Holy Spirit will be in you.”
So I wonder, again, about the mirror. Or maybe, even, about the digital, pixelated version of yourself that’s looking back at you from your computer screen right now. Can you find yourself on your screen? Can you give yourself a good, long, loving look right now?
And can you imagine that the Holy Spirit looks like whoever is staring back at you? What if the Holy Spirit is you and me – acting like Jesus, for the sake of the world?
“You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.”
What if the Holy Spirit is you, sitting with someone who’s sick or praying for someone who doesn’t even know they’re on your mind or forgiving someone you never thought you could?
What if the Holy Spirit sounds like you, saying “you’re welcome” or “I love you” or “I’m sorry” or “you’re forgiven?”
What if the Holy Spirit is you, taking the chance to do something new for the sake of the Gospel? What if it’s you inviting someone to worship, or volunteering to serve in a new way, or giving more money or more time or more love than you ever thought you had to give?
What if the Holy Spirit is actually you – the face that looks back at you in the mirror, that face you can see on the screen before you – whenever you live out the promise of your baptism into Jesus Christ, as you bear his love and share his grace and work for his kind of justice and peace in the world?
And what if, my friends, the Holy Spirit is alive and well and in and around you in all the faces that surround you on that screen, just the same? (“You know him, after all, because he abides with you and because he will be in you.”)
The Holy Spirit of God is in and through and under all that we’re up to as God’s people, living out our faith the best way we know how. We are called to love one another; to forgive one another; to comfort and share with and support and uplift and pray for and with one another, knowing that we are never abandoned; never alone; never forsaken or forgotten thanks to the love that is ours – and ours to share – in Jesus Christ our Lord, crucified and risen for the life of the world; the Father, the +Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen
