John 15:9-17

“As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.

“You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”

One of my favorite movies ever is “Stand By Me.” I realize it’s not the best movie by the standards of a seasoned film critic or the Academy Awards. But I like it anyway. I like it because I liked the short story on which it is based which, a lot of people don’t realize was written by Stephen King. There are no pet cemeteries, clowns in the sewers, haunted hotels, “Children of the Corn,” or any of the other terrifying things for which Stephen King is known, so…

Anyway, “Stand By Me” is the story of four adolescent boys who, though they would call themselves friends at the beginning of it all, become the best of friends as the story moves along. It takes place in the 1950’s, when one of the boys learns there is a dead body somewhere near the railroad tracks in a neighboring town and the four pals make it their mission to find it and report it to police and the media in order to become famous.

The story – and their adventure – turn out to be less and less about the search for a dead body and more and more about the friendship that develops among the boys. As they hike and camp and get into and out of all kinds of trouble, they tell stories around the camp fire, get chased by dogs and trains, threatened by older brothers and bullies, they get into fights, they confess their fears, they save each others’ lives, and they “come of age,” whatever that means. The short of the long is that the boys become the very best of friends during that short season of their young lives and the movie ends with a line from the book that I think of often: "I never had any friends like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?"

“I never had any friends like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?”

Which makes me think about Confirmation Sunday and this rite of passage for Lutherans like us, where we gather adolescents around the waters of their baptism and – this time around, anyway – hear this bit from Jesus about what it means to be friends with, instead of servants to or slaves of, the God of all creation – which was a new way to understand the God of the universe for those disciples who were hearing about it for the first time.

Jesus said, “…I have loved you; abide in my love. …so that your joy may be complete.

“You are my friends … I do not call you servants any longer … but I have called you friends.

“You did not choose me but I chose you. … And I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”

And it’s easy to imagine that those first disciples might have been surprised to hear this from Jesus, who they were trying to understand as the Messiah, the Christ, the Son of God, because it’s just another way that the God we know in Jesus was different from the way they thought or believed or understood God could ever be. And the same might be true for us too much of the time, it seems to me.

See, throughout Scripture – from the Hebrew Scriptures of those first disciples all the way through what we call the New Testament – the nature of God is revealed as something altogether different from what people expected or thought they were looking for.

The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob wasn’t a God who lived “up there” and “out there” in a galaxy far, far away, like the “gods” they were used to or had been told about or that some of their neighbors worshiped. No, the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob was a God who dwelled among God’s people – who moved around in the Garden of Eden “at the time of the evening breeze”; who led the people through the wilderness by pillars of cloud and fire; who camped out in the tabernacle; who spoke through the prophets.

And the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob was a God who centered grace, who was motivated by love. We’ve been tricked into believing that grace was hard to come by in those Old Testament days, but it’s there. It’s relative to the day and the age and the stories that surround it all, but there’s grace in the rainbow that follows the flood, for example. There’s grace in those 10 Commandments that promise life and blessing and abundance and justice if only we let those laws guide our life because we get to, not because we’ve got to. And there’s grace in the overarching theme of those Hebrew Scriptures, for a people being released from slavery, oppression, and suffering, and for a people promised freedom, abundance, and new life, simply because that was God’s desire for them. Again, this God was different that way.

And this is the same God who showed up in Jesus, of course – living and moving and breathing in and for and with the world. Like the evening breeze or the pillar of clouds, like the tabernacle and the prophets, Jesus showed up, this time as one of them; as one of us. And he showed up preaching and teaching and healing and forgiving – all expressions of and experiences with that same amazing grace God was working to share with the world.

And now, this Jesus was showing himself, yet again, to be a different kind of god than the world had ever seen or heard of or expected God could be. Jesus wanted to be friends with his people. Friends!

No longer were people to see God as a slave master or a slave driver. No longer was God to be seen as a master manipulator or as a purveyor of punishment. No longer were people to walk on egg shells through their lives in this world fearing the monsters beneath their bed or the demons in their closet or the grumpy old man in the sky holding their feet to the fire or holding their sins over their heads or holding an everlasting grudge for every sin and indiscretion they could count.

No, we have a friend in Jesus. A friend who wants to hold our hand through it all – nothing more and certainly nothing less: a companion for the journey; a humble servant, himself; one who suffers for our sake; one who lays down his life for those that he loves.

We have a friend in Jesus who abides in a kind of love that is everlasting and generous, abundant and without limit.

In Jesus, we have a friend who always, always, always chooses us, even when we forget or neglect or lack the courage, ability, wisdom, or faith to choose him back.

Like I said, my love for “Stand By Me,” the movie (and the Stephen King story that inspired it) is wrapped up in that rhetorical question that ends it all: “I never had any friends like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?”

There has always been some measure of truth to that for me, to be honest. I’m lucky to still have some of those friends in my life – ones who knew me and loved me and grew up with me during the formative “coming of age” adventures of my childhood. I had dinner with a couple of them two weeks ago. I just spent time with two more of them last weekend. My son Maxwell David, who’s affirming his baptism this morning, is named after another.

And my hope for him and for each of these young people making their Confirmation today – Bethany, Charlie, Kylee, Max, Ella, Ally, Alex, Evelyn, Natalie, and Nate – is that they will know and hold onto and have reason to celebrate those kind of friends now and in the years to come.

And my hope for them, even more – and for all of us, just the same – is that those kinds of friends, the ones who abide, the ones who sacrifice for our sake and compel us to do likewise, the ones who choose us when others don’t, who make our joy complete, and who inspire us to love well and deeply and without shame… I hope those are the friends who remind us of the God – of the friend – we have in Jesus, who does all of those things, to perfection, for us and for the sake of the world.

Amen

John 15:1-8

”I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

The summer we started the Grace Garden here at church, I planted something that is still in the garden today — I planted grape vines. Unlike everything else in the garden, which is destined to be distributed to our food pantry clients, my vision for the grapes was to make wine out of it to use in worship one day (maybe literally for one day).

I planted three vines that first summer, but only one survived to the next year. I didn’t know how to care for them and I still don’t know why one survived and the other two did not. The next summer I didn’t want to do anything to lessen the chance for the vine’s survival, so I didn’t touch it. By the time the third summer rolled around, I realized I had a bit of a problem because by never pruning the vine, it had grown out of control. Pruning was supposed to be done in the winter, but it was too late and I could only watch as the tangle of branches produced large leaves, but never a single grape.

This year I put it on my calendar to prune the vine in February. I was full of doubt about the process. Is this really what I’m supposed to do? Am I doing it right? Would it make a difference? Is there a chance I could kill it by removing so much of its growth? Pruning shears in hand, I nervously set about snipping off long branches and wayward growths, reducing the vine to a stub with only two branches splitting off in either direction. I looked at the end result and thought for sure I had killed it. Today, however, it looks healthy and has buds on it’s two remaining branches. In a few months there just might be some juicy grapes growing on it.

All that to say, this year as I read about Jesus’ spiritual teaching about the vine and the branches, I connected more with the story than I had before. I had a deeper connection to the illustration of removing branches from the vine as well as God’s promise to bring fruit forth from the vine. This time around, the story convicted me of my reluctance to prune away branches...both the literal ones in the garden as well as the figurative ones in my life.

I was hesitant to prune the grape vine because I didn’t actually know how to care for the vine. I was ignorant.

Also, I was so grateful to have one that survived that I couldn’t imagine taking a blade to it in any capacity. I was scared it wouldn’t live.

And finally, I was sure I would mess it up. I was full of self-doubt.

Ignorance, fear, and self-doubt are three things that prevented the grape vine from flourishing. Ignorance, fear, and self-doubt are also three things that prevent me from flourishing spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

Ignorance. Why is it that we so often lack the knowledge necessary to take care of ourselves or others? Do we realize that we have to remove branches from our lives that bear no fruit? Are we even aware that there are branches in our lives that do not bear fruit--that is, things in our lives that redirect and waste valuable time, energy, and resources from the truly good things in our lives?

Fear. What are we afraid of? Is it truly possible for us to fail if we are attuned to the presence and direction of God in our lives? Would God let us prune away too much? Would God allow us to sever the wrong branch? Would God prefer simply to chop us down entirely rather than carefully tend to our needs?

Self-doubt. Why is it so difficult to love ourselves and be filled with God’s grace? Why do our inner monologues seek to tear us and others down? Why do we cling to resentments and disappointments? Why do criticisms from others remain with us longer and demand more energy from us than compliments? What is it that prevents us from trusting that God is a master vinegrower and we are valuable vines?

Close your eyes and imagine a garden that is tended to by someone who is full of ignorance, fear, and self-doubt. What do you notice about what is or isn’t growing in the garden? How does it make you feel to look at that garden, to walk among it?

Ignorance, fear, and self-doubt ruin more than just gardens, of course. They can also ruin lives. Ignorance, fear, and self-doubt will prevent a human life from reaching its full potential. Yours, as well as those with whom you are in relationship.

The antidote to ignorance is knowledge. The antidote to fear is courage. And the antidote to self-doubt is faith.

Close your eyes once more and imagine a garden that is tended to by someone who is knowledgeable, courageous, and faithful. What do you notice about what is or isn’t growing in this garden? How does it make you feel to look at this garden, to walk among it?

The difference between the two gardens is that one has been pruned.

When Jesus tells us that God, the vinegrower, will prune the branches that do not bear fruit, we are to hear this as a promise, not a threat. This speech Jesus gave to his first followers shortly before his crucifixion is not a warning about the fires of hell for those who fail to profess Jesus as Lord. Rather, it is an invitation to trust that God will prune the fruitless and wasteful branches of our lives in order for us to flourish. And with enough knowledge, courage, and faith, we will begin to identify those fruitless branches ourselves and do a little self-pruning. If the notion of self-pruning sounds a little too awkward or painful, you could also call this process “discipleship.”

Knowledge, courage, and faith are good gifts that come from God. We do not earn or create these gifts; but we do encounter them and become more aware of them in prayer, scripture, and acts of loving service to others.

Knowledge grows as we admit we do not know everything and approach life with an open heart and an open mind.

Courage grows each time we engage with others from a position of vulnerability and honesty.

Faith grows each time we seek out and wrestle with God’s presence in the midst of this world that God loves and redeems.

May you be filled up with wisdom about who God is, whom God created you to be, and what wasteful branches in your life should be pruned away.

May you be courageous and bravely set out to make a positive impact in the world, even if it comes at great personal cost.

And may you be faithful to the God of love who is, at this moment, using his followers to redeem, restore, and reconcile the world and one another.

Amen.