Guess who's at the door
Commentary
It's a picture of God that we see again and again throughout the pages of scripture.
We see it in the familiar story of the shepherd who leaves the 99 in order to pursue the one lost lamb. And, again, a few verses later, we see it in the father running to meet his prodigal son. We see it also in the cherished portrait of Jesus standing at the door and knocking. And we see it most dramatically in the Bethlehem stable. It is a picture of a God who comes to us.
It is not a rare thing. Indeed, it so prevalent a pattern in scripture that we might not even notice it!
In the beginning, the Lord comes walking in the Garden of Eden. And, in the wake of Cain's failure, the Lord comes to counsel him. He comes to visit Abraham with good news. He comes to the rescue of the Hebrews in slavery. He comes in an awesome display at Sinai in Moses' day and at the temple in Solomon's day. He comes to meet Paul on the road to Damascus. And he promises to come to us again.
Even though our gospel lection predicts Jesus' departure, still there remains a dramatic promise of his coming. Indeed, perhaps the most surprising and dramatic coming of all.
Acts 16:9-15
We are reminded all along of the variety of means by which God communicates with people. Here, we read that "Paul had a vision," and he and his companions understood it as direction from God. Elsewhere, God's word is brought by angels, by prophets, by preachers, and even by a donkey. He gives dreams and the interpretation of dreams. He inspires otherworldly utterances, as well as the interpretation of those utterances. He writes on walls, thunders from mountains, and remains the still, small voice.
In this particular instance, it seems that God is giving direction to his missionaries. On this, Paul's second missionary journey, the team has focused their attention in Asia Minor, which was Paul's boyhood home, as well as the region where he spent most of his first missionary journey. Then comes this vision of a man from Macedonia, across the Aegean Sea from Asia Minor.
That Paul's vision came during the night serves as an interesting metaphor. During his waking hours when his eyes were open, it seems, the apostle was not seeing much beyond the confines of the immediate mission field there in Asia Minor. And so the Lord took the occasion of Paul's sleep to expand the horizons of his vision and work. There were other souls to be reached -- souls on the other side of the Aegean -- and that vision in the night prompted a whole new move in Paul's missionary work.
The crossing of the Aegean was, in Neil Armstrong's famous phrase, "one small step for man." It was a more significant step for the church, however, as Paul's missionary effort entered Europe, the Greek peninsula, and moved a step closer to Rome itself.
The book of Acts itself also takes a significant step at this point. Suddenly, the narrator steps on stage and becomes one of the characters in the story. Everything up until this point has been written in the third person, but in 16:10 the language abruptly shifts to first-person, plural. "We" becomes the operative word for the next several verses as Luke himself becomes part of the team. Neither Luke here, nor Paul elsewhere, elaborates on how the two met or on Luke's participation in Paul's itinerary. Based on the pronouns used, it seems to have been very brief at this stage, though we know from later references that Luke became a more constant companion of Paul near the end.
On the other side of the Aegean, we see no evidence of missionary activity in Neapolis. Instead, the action moves almost immediately to Philippi. Luke reports that the group went "where we supposed there was a place of prayer" on the sabbath day. This move reflects Paul's pattern of going first to the Jews in any given place to preach the gospel to them. That they were forced to look for "a place of prayer," however, suggests that there weren't enough Jews in Philippi to establish or maintain a synagogue. The place of prayer was the alternative, informal meeting place in the absence of an official synagogue.
Interestingly, it appears that only women were gathered there in that makeshift congregation on that sabbath day.
Among the four gospel writers, Luke is known as the one who is most attentive to the role of women in the story. Likewise, here in the book of Acts, the women are the ones who are holding the fort in Philippi. Lydia is often thought of as the first Christian convert on European soil. It is Lydia's hospitality that supports Paul and his companions during the time in Philippi, which is reminiscent of the women who provided for Jesus during his ministry (see, for example, Matthew 27:55). And it was a woman whose liberation from her demon-possession is the hinge on which the rest of the story in Philippi turns.
Luke identifies Lydia here as "a worshiper of God," just as he does Titius Justus later (Acts 18:7). An almost identical reference is also made to Cornelius earlier (Acts 10:2, 22). The strong implication is that Lydia was a Gentile who had come to worship the God of the Jews. She has already demonstrated, therefore, an open and receptive spirit: open to hear something that she hadn't heard before, and to receive that new truth into her life. And so she, like Cornelius before, completes her journey: first to the worship of the Father, and then to the salvation in his Son.
Luke reports that Lydia "and her household were baptized." Later in Paul's eventful stay in Philippi, Luke tells us that the jailer "and his entire family were baptized." It is, in both instances, a beautiful image. Rather than the convert living his or her newfound faith in isolation and living in a divided household, we see the entire household coming to Christ. Like the Samaritan woman whose contact with Christ led her entire village to believe in him (John 4:39-42), Lydia and the jailer did not merely respond to the gospel themselves; they brought their households with them.
Finally, the episode concludes with a kind of metaphor for the relationship between faith and works. Lydia opens her home to Paul and his companions, and in the end it seems that her home becomes the gathering place for all of the new believers there in Philippi (see Acts 16:40). Her household is not only baptized, representing their faith, but her home is also opened to others in hospitality, representing good works.
Revelation 21:10, 22--22:5
The city that wants to attract tourists will put together promotional materials boasting all that the city has. The recreation, the culture, and the entertainment; shopping and dining; convenience and cleanliness: these are the types of things that a city might claim to have and to offer.
Near the end of the book of Revelation, John offers a very different sort of promotion of the city he has in mind. His subject is "the holy city Jerusalem."
We are introduced to Jerusalem early and often in scripture, but King David is the man who really puts it on the map. He conquers it, makes it his capital, and then effectively makes it God's capital, too, by moving the Ark of the Covenant there. A generation later, Solomon cements it as God's dwelling place, building the glorious temple there.
As the years pass, Jerusalem becomes a city like no other. Not that it is the biggest or the highest or the wealthiest (except, perhaps, in the gilded days of Solomon). Rather, it gains an ethos as the center of God's activity. The accumulated testimony of the prophets is that his glory, his throne, and his eternal purpose are there. All peoples and nations will come to worship the Lord who dwells in Zion. And while the northern kingdom was allowed to slip away between history's cracks, David's throne in Jerusalem will always have one of his descendants on it. And one day, some particular son of David will reign there in uncommon strength, justice, peace, and security forever.
I saw a map once from the sixteenth century that depicted the world as a kind of three- petal flower. The one petal, stretching from the center to the northwest, was labeled "Europe." A second petal, growing down from the center to the south, was labeled "Africa." The third petal, reaching out from the center to the northeast, was labeled "Asia." And in the middle of the flower, the center of the world: Jerusalem.
A modern cartographer would not endorse such a map of the world, but a theologian might. Scripture surely paints a picture in which Jerusalem emerges as the center of the world. And here in our passage, a new Jerusalem is depicted as the perfect culmination of God's will for the world.
John's promotion of the city is an unconventional one. Rather than boasting about what the city has, he makes a point of identifying what it does not have.
The city has no temple (21:22). At first blush, that might seem a negative thing. In contrast to the quaint little towns where there was a church on every corner, this city might seem like a godless place with no temple at all. But, no; quite the opposite.
John also suggests that the city has no sun or moon (21:23) or lamps (22:5). Who would want to go to such a dark and dreary place? Our culture is drawn to the bright lights and neon of Broadway, of South Beach, of Vegas. But what sort of low-watt city is this? It is, it seems, the most radiant spot in the universe, "for the glory of God is its light."
The city has no nightlife on the one hand (22:5), but neither does it ever shut down (21:25). And, for would-be residents, see the quality of life implied by what is missing there: "nothing unclean," no one "who practices abomination or falsehood," and "nothing accursed."
Ask a broken and discouraged person what they would change about their circumstances, and chances are that they will speak in terms of what things they'd like to be rid of. No more pain in their bodies. No more fighting in their marriages. No more violence in their homes. No more lies, no more alcohol, no more strife. On and on the list goes, and you could add to it from the parishioners you've counseled.
For the weary inhabitants of a fallen world, John's list of what will not be part of the new Jerusalem is very good news, indeed. And the news gets better still, for the vision is not just a glimpse of what's missing but also an assurance of what's there. The passage is laced with one great, recurring promise: the glorious presence of God and of the Lamb.
John 14:23-29
Our selected gospel lection comes from the midst of John's Last Supper scene. The synoptics' accounts of this event are comparatively short, while John shares with us a great deal more dialogue and monologue (and even a bit more action in the form of the foot-washing) than his counterparts. And several of the prominent themes from John's Last Supper section are represented here in this excerpt from it.
Love is a central theme of the Johannine literature in general. John's gospel, after all, is the one that offers the great "for God so loved" summary of the good news. It also includes the new love commandment (John 13:34) and the author's self-identification as "the disciple whom (Jesus) loved" (see, for example, John 19:26). And Jesus tells his disciples that love is the ultimate evidence that they belong to him (John 13:35). Meanwhile, one cannot read John's first epistle without being struck by the central role of love. It is the essence of God's nature (4:8b), the proof of our relationship to him (3:10; 4:20-21), and the practical living out of that relationship (3:16-18).
It is within that larger thematic context, then, that we meet this particular passage. And here the causal relationship presented is between love and obedience. "Those who love me will keep my word," Jesus says.
That relationship is not a two-way street. Obeying God does not automatically lead to loving God, as many a grim legalist has demonstrated. Loving the Lord ought to manifest itself naturally in keeping his word. If it does not, the professed love is likely to be shallow or altogether counterfeit.
A second significant theme, both in this selection and in its larger context, is the glimpse we are given of the Trinity. This is a real gift of the fourth gospel.
Of course, Jesus does not present us with a systematic theology on the Three Persons of the Trinity. But then, he shouldn't. The Father and the Spirit are not objects of study for Jesus; they are his loved ones. Rather than a philosophical discourse, we are given a peek into a loving relationship.
While Jesus speaks a very great deal about the Father throughout the gospels, this Last Supper scene from John's gospel is our best opportunity to hear him speak about both the Father and the Spirit. We discover several themes that are also explicit in this particular excerpt.
One: the theme of sending. The Father sent the Son, and the Father and/or the Son will send the Spirit. (Similarly, it should be noted that the Son also sends the disciples.)
Two: there is a pattern of the members of the Trinity focusing attention on one another, glorifying one another, and even arguably serving one another; while the focus is never on themselves. While this pattern is more explicitly fleshed out in the larger context, it is surely indicated here by the Spirit's purpose being to remind the disciples of everything Jesus had said (v. 26) and by Jesus' deference to the Father (v. 28).
Three: there is the theme of a certain relationship between the disciples and the Trinity. Jesus' followers are not merely on the outside looking in, but rather there is a more intimate connection (or opportunity). Elsewhere, Jesus' prayer is that the unity of the disciples would be like the unity of the Trinity. Also, as we mentioned above, the disciples become a kind of extension of the Trinity as they are the next ones being sent. Here in our passage, there is the marvelous promise from the Trinity to Christ's followers: "We will come to them and make our home with them."
Four: finally, a theme that is significant in John's Last Supper scene -- and well represented in this excerpt from it -- is the prospect of Jesus going away.
It's hard to know for sure the state of mind of Jesus' disciples on this occasion. On the one hand, he had spoken plainly to them on several occasions about what would happen to him in Jerusalem. On the other hand, how could they possibly be expected to understand such things in advance of them happening? I can tell my five-year-old daughter about some elements of life that will confront her when she goes off to college, but I should not expect her to grasp my words and their meaning at this stage of the game.
Now his departure is very much at hand, whether the disciples grasp it or not. And yet, in both this passage and this larger section of John, Jesus portrays his going away as a positive thing. It is best for him, and it is best for them.
Application
That God should come to us at all is itself remarkable. He should have turned his back on us and walked away back in the Garden of Eden. And again and again since then. But, instead, he comes to us. Like a concerned shepherd, like a forgiving father, as a baby referred to as Emmanuel, he comes to us.
Now, in the lections from John and Revelation, we are presented with two more remarkable images of his coming.
First, there is the personal, individual coming. The NRSV translates the whole promise as plural -- "those who love me" -- in order to be inclusive. In the original Greek, however, it is expressed in the singular. So the New King James Version reads, "If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him" (John 14:23 NKJV).
It is an astonishingly intimate image. That the Father should send his Son into the world because he so loves the world is surprising, but at least it is the "big picture." Here, however, it is unimaginably personal: the triune God will come to and dwell with me. You. Anyone who loves him and keeps his word.
In the Revelation passage, we see the other astonishing truth of his coming. While Caesar is famous for saying, "I came, I saw, I conquered," the Lord has said a more dramatic thing. He promises to come, and then he promises to stay. Central to the picture of the new Jerusalem is the abiding presence and glory of God. He dwells there with his people. And so this God does not just come to see, or to visit, or to conquer. He comes to stay.
Alternative Application
Acts 16:9-15. "Faith of Our Mothers, Living Still." While we don't know anything specifically about Lydia as a mother -- including whether she even was a mother -- her example may be a good one for this Mother's Day.
First, we have good reason to infer that she was an exceedingly capable woman, apparently running her own business. One senses that she may have embodied the strong and able woman described in Proverbs 31.
Second, we see that she was a devout woman. In the absence of any synagogue to support her in her adopted faith, still she was there at the place of prayer with other devout women.
And, finally, as we noted above, Lydia's conversion was not a solitary event. Conversion never should be, of course. It is not much of a rock if it doesn't make any ripple. But Lydia's conversion was accompanied by good works. And, in an act that makes her an especially appropriate hero for this day, we see that Lydia set a pace of conversion and belief for her entire household.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 67
There is a popular bumper sticker that most everyone has seen of late. Usually it is printed on the background of red, white, and blue. The words boldly say, "God Bless America!" These sentiments echo the opening verses of this psalm. "May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face to shine upon us." There is, however, one significant variation.
On the various placards and bumper stickers papering communities across the nation these days, the phrase comes not as a humble prayer request, but more like a demand. And so it is phrased: "God Bless America!" The contrast with this psalm is stark. The psalmist approaches with humility and praise, acknowledging God's sovereignty over all the nations. The psalmist acknowledges blessings already received and asks for God's guidance in the future. And once again, the prayer is bookmarked with unabashed praise for the one who gives the blessing.
For those sporting the quasi-religious patriotic bumper sticker, a few things might be noted. First, God has already blessed America in floods of abundance. God has blessed America with wealth and prosperity. God has blessed America with abundant natural resources and an incredible diversity of talent and spirit in its population. And God has blessed America with greater power than any other nation has ever known. Yes. God has blessed America. Certainly, we can pray for these blessings to continue. But first it might be wise to humbly acknowledge the manifold blessings that have been showered upon this nation.
Having noted blessings received, it might also behoove the faithful to take stock of how it is America has responded to the many blessings God has showered upon the nation. Having been blessed, in what ways is the nation a blessing to other nations? Having been blessed, how do the people then respond with justice and equity for all God's people?
The sin of nations throughout history has always been their tendency toward arrogance and the presumption of power, even over God himself. This psalm calls, not only the American nation, but all nations to a much needed reality check. It is, finally, God who's in charge. May God continue to bless the nation, and may its inhabitants remember that the God of blessing is also the God of guidance and judgment. May the prayer of words extend also to a silent prayer of hearing.
We see it in the familiar story of the shepherd who leaves the 99 in order to pursue the one lost lamb. And, again, a few verses later, we see it in the father running to meet his prodigal son. We see it also in the cherished portrait of Jesus standing at the door and knocking. And we see it most dramatically in the Bethlehem stable. It is a picture of a God who comes to us.
It is not a rare thing. Indeed, it so prevalent a pattern in scripture that we might not even notice it!
In the beginning, the Lord comes walking in the Garden of Eden. And, in the wake of Cain's failure, the Lord comes to counsel him. He comes to visit Abraham with good news. He comes to the rescue of the Hebrews in slavery. He comes in an awesome display at Sinai in Moses' day and at the temple in Solomon's day. He comes to meet Paul on the road to Damascus. And he promises to come to us again.
Even though our gospel lection predicts Jesus' departure, still there remains a dramatic promise of his coming. Indeed, perhaps the most surprising and dramatic coming of all.
Acts 16:9-15
We are reminded all along of the variety of means by which God communicates with people. Here, we read that "Paul had a vision," and he and his companions understood it as direction from God. Elsewhere, God's word is brought by angels, by prophets, by preachers, and even by a donkey. He gives dreams and the interpretation of dreams. He inspires otherworldly utterances, as well as the interpretation of those utterances. He writes on walls, thunders from mountains, and remains the still, small voice.
In this particular instance, it seems that God is giving direction to his missionaries. On this, Paul's second missionary journey, the team has focused their attention in Asia Minor, which was Paul's boyhood home, as well as the region where he spent most of his first missionary journey. Then comes this vision of a man from Macedonia, across the Aegean Sea from Asia Minor.
That Paul's vision came during the night serves as an interesting metaphor. During his waking hours when his eyes were open, it seems, the apostle was not seeing much beyond the confines of the immediate mission field there in Asia Minor. And so the Lord took the occasion of Paul's sleep to expand the horizons of his vision and work. There were other souls to be reached -- souls on the other side of the Aegean -- and that vision in the night prompted a whole new move in Paul's missionary work.
The crossing of the Aegean was, in Neil Armstrong's famous phrase, "one small step for man." It was a more significant step for the church, however, as Paul's missionary effort entered Europe, the Greek peninsula, and moved a step closer to Rome itself.
The book of Acts itself also takes a significant step at this point. Suddenly, the narrator steps on stage and becomes one of the characters in the story. Everything up until this point has been written in the third person, but in 16:10 the language abruptly shifts to first-person, plural. "We" becomes the operative word for the next several verses as Luke himself becomes part of the team. Neither Luke here, nor Paul elsewhere, elaborates on how the two met or on Luke's participation in Paul's itinerary. Based on the pronouns used, it seems to have been very brief at this stage, though we know from later references that Luke became a more constant companion of Paul near the end.
On the other side of the Aegean, we see no evidence of missionary activity in Neapolis. Instead, the action moves almost immediately to Philippi. Luke reports that the group went "where we supposed there was a place of prayer" on the sabbath day. This move reflects Paul's pattern of going first to the Jews in any given place to preach the gospel to them. That they were forced to look for "a place of prayer," however, suggests that there weren't enough Jews in Philippi to establish or maintain a synagogue. The place of prayer was the alternative, informal meeting place in the absence of an official synagogue.
Interestingly, it appears that only women were gathered there in that makeshift congregation on that sabbath day.
Among the four gospel writers, Luke is known as the one who is most attentive to the role of women in the story. Likewise, here in the book of Acts, the women are the ones who are holding the fort in Philippi. Lydia is often thought of as the first Christian convert on European soil. It is Lydia's hospitality that supports Paul and his companions during the time in Philippi, which is reminiscent of the women who provided for Jesus during his ministry (see, for example, Matthew 27:55). And it was a woman whose liberation from her demon-possession is the hinge on which the rest of the story in Philippi turns.
Luke identifies Lydia here as "a worshiper of God," just as he does Titius Justus later (Acts 18:7). An almost identical reference is also made to Cornelius earlier (Acts 10:2, 22). The strong implication is that Lydia was a Gentile who had come to worship the God of the Jews. She has already demonstrated, therefore, an open and receptive spirit: open to hear something that she hadn't heard before, and to receive that new truth into her life. And so she, like Cornelius before, completes her journey: first to the worship of the Father, and then to the salvation in his Son.
Luke reports that Lydia "and her household were baptized." Later in Paul's eventful stay in Philippi, Luke tells us that the jailer "and his entire family were baptized." It is, in both instances, a beautiful image. Rather than the convert living his or her newfound faith in isolation and living in a divided household, we see the entire household coming to Christ. Like the Samaritan woman whose contact with Christ led her entire village to believe in him (John 4:39-42), Lydia and the jailer did not merely respond to the gospel themselves; they brought their households with them.
Finally, the episode concludes with a kind of metaphor for the relationship between faith and works. Lydia opens her home to Paul and his companions, and in the end it seems that her home becomes the gathering place for all of the new believers there in Philippi (see Acts 16:40). Her household is not only baptized, representing their faith, but her home is also opened to others in hospitality, representing good works.
Revelation 21:10, 22--22:5
The city that wants to attract tourists will put together promotional materials boasting all that the city has. The recreation, the culture, and the entertainment; shopping and dining; convenience and cleanliness: these are the types of things that a city might claim to have and to offer.
Near the end of the book of Revelation, John offers a very different sort of promotion of the city he has in mind. His subject is "the holy city Jerusalem."
We are introduced to Jerusalem early and often in scripture, but King David is the man who really puts it on the map. He conquers it, makes it his capital, and then effectively makes it God's capital, too, by moving the Ark of the Covenant there. A generation later, Solomon cements it as God's dwelling place, building the glorious temple there.
As the years pass, Jerusalem becomes a city like no other. Not that it is the biggest or the highest or the wealthiest (except, perhaps, in the gilded days of Solomon). Rather, it gains an ethos as the center of God's activity. The accumulated testimony of the prophets is that his glory, his throne, and his eternal purpose are there. All peoples and nations will come to worship the Lord who dwells in Zion. And while the northern kingdom was allowed to slip away between history's cracks, David's throne in Jerusalem will always have one of his descendants on it. And one day, some particular son of David will reign there in uncommon strength, justice, peace, and security forever.
I saw a map once from the sixteenth century that depicted the world as a kind of three- petal flower. The one petal, stretching from the center to the northwest, was labeled "Europe." A second petal, growing down from the center to the south, was labeled "Africa." The third petal, reaching out from the center to the northeast, was labeled "Asia." And in the middle of the flower, the center of the world: Jerusalem.
A modern cartographer would not endorse such a map of the world, but a theologian might. Scripture surely paints a picture in which Jerusalem emerges as the center of the world. And here in our passage, a new Jerusalem is depicted as the perfect culmination of God's will for the world.
John's promotion of the city is an unconventional one. Rather than boasting about what the city has, he makes a point of identifying what it does not have.
The city has no temple (21:22). At first blush, that might seem a negative thing. In contrast to the quaint little towns where there was a church on every corner, this city might seem like a godless place with no temple at all. But, no; quite the opposite.
John also suggests that the city has no sun or moon (21:23) or lamps (22:5). Who would want to go to such a dark and dreary place? Our culture is drawn to the bright lights and neon of Broadway, of South Beach, of Vegas. But what sort of low-watt city is this? It is, it seems, the most radiant spot in the universe, "for the glory of God is its light."
The city has no nightlife on the one hand (22:5), but neither does it ever shut down (21:25). And, for would-be residents, see the quality of life implied by what is missing there: "nothing unclean," no one "who practices abomination or falsehood," and "nothing accursed."
Ask a broken and discouraged person what they would change about their circumstances, and chances are that they will speak in terms of what things they'd like to be rid of. No more pain in their bodies. No more fighting in their marriages. No more violence in their homes. No more lies, no more alcohol, no more strife. On and on the list goes, and you could add to it from the parishioners you've counseled.
For the weary inhabitants of a fallen world, John's list of what will not be part of the new Jerusalem is very good news, indeed. And the news gets better still, for the vision is not just a glimpse of what's missing but also an assurance of what's there. The passage is laced with one great, recurring promise: the glorious presence of God and of the Lamb.
John 14:23-29
Our selected gospel lection comes from the midst of John's Last Supper scene. The synoptics' accounts of this event are comparatively short, while John shares with us a great deal more dialogue and monologue (and even a bit more action in the form of the foot-washing) than his counterparts. And several of the prominent themes from John's Last Supper section are represented here in this excerpt from it.
Love is a central theme of the Johannine literature in general. John's gospel, after all, is the one that offers the great "for God so loved" summary of the good news. It also includes the new love commandment (John 13:34) and the author's self-identification as "the disciple whom (Jesus) loved" (see, for example, John 19:26). And Jesus tells his disciples that love is the ultimate evidence that they belong to him (John 13:35). Meanwhile, one cannot read John's first epistle without being struck by the central role of love. It is the essence of God's nature (4:8b), the proof of our relationship to him (3:10; 4:20-21), and the practical living out of that relationship (3:16-18).
It is within that larger thematic context, then, that we meet this particular passage. And here the causal relationship presented is between love and obedience. "Those who love me will keep my word," Jesus says.
That relationship is not a two-way street. Obeying God does not automatically lead to loving God, as many a grim legalist has demonstrated. Loving the Lord ought to manifest itself naturally in keeping his word. If it does not, the professed love is likely to be shallow or altogether counterfeit.
A second significant theme, both in this selection and in its larger context, is the glimpse we are given of the Trinity. This is a real gift of the fourth gospel.
Of course, Jesus does not present us with a systematic theology on the Three Persons of the Trinity. But then, he shouldn't. The Father and the Spirit are not objects of study for Jesus; they are his loved ones. Rather than a philosophical discourse, we are given a peek into a loving relationship.
While Jesus speaks a very great deal about the Father throughout the gospels, this Last Supper scene from John's gospel is our best opportunity to hear him speak about both the Father and the Spirit. We discover several themes that are also explicit in this particular excerpt.
One: the theme of sending. The Father sent the Son, and the Father and/or the Son will send the Spirit. (Similarly, it should be noted that the Son also sends the disciples.)
Two: there is a pattern of the members of the Trinity focusing attention on one another, glorifying one another, and even arguably serving one another; while the focus is never on themselves. While this pattern is more explicitly fleshed out in the larger context, it is surely indicated here by the Spirit's purpose being to remind the disciples of everything Jesus had said (v. 26) and by Jesus' deference to the Father (v. 28).
Three: there is the theme of a certain relationship between the disciples and the Trinity. Jesus' followers are not merely on the outside looking in, but rather there is a more intimate connection (or opportunity). Elsewhere, Jesus' prayer is that the unity of the disciples would be like the unity of the Trinity. Also, as we mentioned above, the disciples become a kind of extension of the Trinity as they are the next ones being sent. Here in our passage, there is the marvelous promise from the Trinity to Christ's followers: "We will come to them and make our home with them."
Four: finally, a theme that is significant in John's Last Supper scene -- and well represented in this excerpt from it -- is the prospect of Jesus going away.
It's hard to know for sure the state of mind of Jesus' disciples on this occasion. On the one hand, he had spoken plainly to them on several occasions about what would happen to him in Jerusalem. On the other hand, how could they possibly be expected to understand such things in advance of them happening? I can tell my five-year-old daughter about some elements of life that will confront her when she goes off to college, but I should not expect her to grasp my words and their meaning at this stage of the game.
Now his departure is very much at hand, whether the disciples grasp it or not. And yet, in both this passage and this larger section of John, Jesus portrays his going away as a positive thing. It is best for him, and it is best for them.
Application
That God should come to us at all is itself remarkable. He should have turned his back on us and walked away back in the Garden of Eden. And again and again since then. But, instead, he comes to us. Like a concerned shepherd, like a forgiving father, as a baby referred to as Emmanuel, he comes to us.
Now, in the lections from John and Revelation, we are presented with two more remarkable images of his coming.
First, there is the personal, individual coming. The NRSV translates the whole promise as plural -- "those who love me" -- in order to be inclusive. In the original Greek, however, it is expressed in the singular. So the New King James Version reads, "If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him" (John 14:23 NKJV).
It is an astonishingly intimate image. That the Father should send his Son into the world because he so loves the world is surprising, but at least it is the "big picture." Here, however, it is unimaginably personal: the triune God will come to and dwell with me. You. Anyone who loves him and keeps his word.
In the Revelation passage, we see the other astonishing truth of his coming. While Caesar is famous for saying, "I came, I saw, I conquered," the Lord has said a more dramatic thing. He promises to come, and then he promises to stay. Central to the picture of the new Jerusalem is the abiding presence and glory of God. He dwells there with his people. And so this God does not just come to see, or to visit, or to conquer. He comes to stay.
Alternative Application
Acts 16:9-15. "Faith of Our Mothers, Living Still." While we don't know anything specifically about Lydia as a mother -- including whether she even was a mother -- her example may be a good one for this Mother's Day.
First, we have good reason to infer that she was an exceedingly capable woman, apparently running her own business. One senses that she may have embodied the strong and able woman described in Proverbs 31.
Second, we see that she was a devout woman. In the absence of any synagogue to support her in her adopted faith, still she was there at the place of prayer with other devout women.
And, finally, as we noted above, Lydia's conversion was not a solitary event. Conversion never should be, of course. It is not much of a rock if it doesn't make any ripple. But Lydia's conversion was accompanied by good works. And, in an act that makes her an especially appropriate hero for this day, we see that Lydia set a pace of conversion and belief for her entire household.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 67
There is a popular bumper sticker that most everyone has seen of late. Usually it is printed on the background of red, white, and blue. The words boldly say, "God Bless America!" These sentiments echo the opening verses of this psalm. "May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face to shine upon us." There is, however, one significant variation.
On the various placards and bumper stickers papering communities across the nation these days, the phrase comes not as a humble prayer request, but more like a demand. And so it is phrased: "God Bless America!" The contrast with this psalm is stark. The psalmist approaches with humility and praise, acknowledging God's sovereignty over all the nations. The psalmist acknowledges blessings already received and asks for God's guidance in the future. And once again, the prayer is bookmarked with unabashed praise for the one who gives the blessing.
For those sporting the quasi-religious patriotic bumper sticker, a few things might be noted. First, God has already blessed America in floods of abundance. God has blessed America with wealth and prosperity. God has blessed America with abundant natural resources and an incredible diversity of talent and spirit in its population. And God has blessed America with greater power than any other nation has ever known. Yes. God has blessed America. Certainly, we can pray for these blessings to continue. But first it might be wise to humbly acknowledge the manifold blessings that have been showered upon this nation.
Having noted blessings received, it might also behoove the faithful to take stock of how it is America has responded to the many blessings God has showered upon the nation. Having been blessed, in what ways is the nation a blessing to other nations? Having been blessed, how do the people then respond with justice and equity for all God's people?
The sin of nations throughout history has always been their tendency toward arrogance and the presumption of power, even over God himself. This psalm calls, not only the American nation, but all nations to a much needed reality check. It is, finally, God who's in charge. May God continue to bless the nation, and may its inhabitants remember that the God of blessing is also the God of guidance and judgment. May the prayer of words extend also to a silent prayer of hearing.
