John 14:15-21 A Forever Love, A Forever Family, A Forever Home
“If you love me, hold on to my commands. I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever. He is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive because it does not see him or know him. You know him because he stays with you and will be in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will see me no longer, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. The one who has my commands and holds on to them is the one who loves me. And the one who loves me will be loved by my Father. I too will love him and show myself to him.” (EHV)
When you hear the word “orphanage,” does your mind immediately come up with the image of Oliver Twist, dressed in rags, holding up an empty bowl and saying, “Please, sir, I want some more”? Or maybe you jump straight to Annie with her hard-knock life. Her orphanage was run by a woman who cared nothing for the children under her supervision, but the orphans all remain upbeat and cheerful, singing and dancing as they do their chores, all by sticking together and dreaming about tomorrow.
For the most part, the concept of an orphanage is a fairly modern idea, and one that didn’t last very long before it fell out of favor. In ancient times, you could almost always find a relative who’d be willing to take in a helpless infant, and as soon as the child was old enough to do anything useful, they’d be sold off as indentured servants. If they weren’t so lucky, they begged and scrounged and stole in the streets. Orphanages became society’s brilliant solution to the problem in the 18th century. Pack them away, out of sight, out of mind, problem solved. Food, clothing, and shelter–their physical needs were met, more or less; what more could a child want? What more could they expect of life than a bed, some clothes, and a bowl of gruel? Were they ungrateful if they said, “Please, sir, I want something more than that,” and unappreciative if a sunny tomorrow always seemed to be more than a day away?
Now we recognize that children need more than food and shelter; they need both the personal care and attention that would better come from a foster family than a large institution, and they need the stability of knowing the home where they are placed is as permanent and dependable as possible. Adoption is best, but a single, long-term foster family is much better than either an institutional dormitory or switching families every other week. Everyone needs “home” and “family”, and neither of those words really means anything unless it’s a forever home and family for life.
But when Jesus told his disciples, “I will not leave you as orphans,” every single one of them was grown up, long past the age of adoption or needing a foster family to take charge of them. They were grownups. They weren’t fretting over the thought, “Who’s going to take care of us until we’re old enough to take care of ourselves?”
It wasn’t food or clothing or shelter that they needed, but home and family. The day after Jesus gave his disciples this assurance that he would not leave them as orphans, he left them. He died. They had never had a place to call home for as long as they had been disciples of the wandering teacher from Nazareth, and yet it was only now that they truly became homeless. The disciples still had each other, didn’t they? But what is a disciple, a student or a follower, when he has no teacher and no one to follow? They weren’t disciples any more, just eleven men with nowhere to go and nothing to do. They were grownups, but “orphaned” is exactly how each of them felt.
Jesus kept his promise, first by returning, alive and glorified, just three days later on Easter Sunday. Second, by giving them his Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost fifty days later (next Sunday) to dwell in their hearts as a comforter, counselor, and friend for life. Third, by reminding them that he and the Father are one. God is everywhere. Where God the Father is, God the Son can always be found, and God the Holy Spirit can’t be far away. Father, Son, and Spirit are always with us, and we have family for life in our forever home.
“Because I live, you too shall live,” Jesus said. That’s a promise of a forever home that awaits us even after we die, but it’s also a promise for a new sort of life we have today, living in the aftermath of Easter and Pentecost. If we have food, clothing, a bed to sleep in, and a roof over our heads, that’s enough for us to survive on. Even a Dickensian orphanage provided that. But that’s not life. It’s living, surviving, but it’s not thriving.
Back on Good Shepherd Sunday Jesus told us, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” But what is having life to the full? Is it what we’ve been living for the last couple of months, cooped up, separated from family and friends? If these unconventional times have taught us anything, it’s that food, clothing, and shelter aren’t enough. It’s not thriving. It’s not life to the full.
The country is starting to open up again. People will be returning to stores, restaurants, and workplaces. That helps with the cabin fever we’ve been experiencing, but it’s still not life to the full. We’ll still have to do our social distancing for some time to come yet, and every time you consciously keep six feet away from somebody, you’ll remind yourself of the threat we still face and of the closeness we still miss.
What is life to the full in a time of pandemic? It’s not food, clothing, and shelter; that’s for sure. It starts with home and family--a forever home and family for life. Our Savior’s first words today were, “If you love me, hold on to my commands.” Love. Love for our Savior and love for each other—that’s how you live life to the full. And holding on to Jesus’ commands, following his will persistently, patiently, without ever letting go or giving up, is how you love.
But does that instruction give you a moment of pause? Do you feel a slight twinge of soul-searching discomfort when he says, “If you love me...”? It sounds a bit like a test, like he’s not completely sure we do. If he’s not sure, how can we be?
Don’t sin. Simple. In fact, being cooped up at home should make that even simpler. Have you seen any crime statistics lately? Crime rates are way down. Not surprisingly, since people aren’t out on the streets waiting to get mugged. They aren’t out in bars where they get drunk, get into fights, and do some drunk driving afterwards on the way home. Crime rates go down when people stay home. But domestic violence is up, as people stuck in the same house together get impatient with each other. Reported child abuse is way down, and that’s terrifying. It hasn’t stopped; it’s just that children are no longer seen by teachers and others to recognize what’s happening to them at home. They have no one to tell.
My point is that avoiding the world doesn’t help you avoid sin. Quarantine gives you fewer opportunities, both to show love publicly to your neighbors and to get into trouble publicly, sinning against your neighbors, but it does not change the heart. The heart that sits alone at home still sins. The heart that sits alone at home still loves.
After his resurrection Jesus went to Peter and asked him three times, “Do you love me?” Peter gave a very good answer, “Lord, you know all things. You already know the answer. You know that I love you.” He knows all things. He knows our sins. He knows our weaknesses. And that's what gives us pause. It's why Peter was troubled by the question and why we feel uncomfortable when he says, "The one who has my commands and holds on to them is the one who loves me." He knows us too well. But even though you and I don’t know all things, we know very well that Jesus loves us, even when we fall short. He loved us first. He’ll love us always. And when I find I don’t have the strength to hold on to his commands, he’ll still have the strength to hold on to me, to restore me when I fall, to forgive me when I sin, and to make me a conduit of his love once again.
Jesus didn’t say these words in a courtroom, challenging us to prove we love him by our good deeds before he’ll declare us not guilty and free to go. He speaks them in a classroom, teaching us what it means to love--not just feeling tender emotions or saying the right words, but doing what is right and loving. He taught by example, getting down on his hands and knees to wash their feet, and said, “As I have loved you, love one another.” That night he was showing us by his love what it means to live life to the full. The next day he showed us by dying on a shameful cross. That’s living life to the full? Yes, because that’s showing love to the full. The fullness of love was sacrificing his life for us. The fullness of his love paid for all our sins and opened the door to our forever home and our family for life. The fullness of his love led from death on a cross to an empty tomb and the glorious new life of Easter resurrection. Our Lord and Savior forgives all our sins, fully and freely, just as he fully and freely loved and loves us. And his love and forgiveness changes us. "If you love me, hold on to my commands," isn't a test; it's a description of the new love we have and the full life we live.
In a time of social distancing, we may not be able to express the fullness of our love for one another the way we would like, but as long as we live in the love of Christ we have life to the full. Be patient; this too shall pass. Hold on to Christ’s commands, his command to love one another, his command to honor and glorify his Father in all that we do, whether we eat or drink or whatever little thing we do in his name and by faith in him.
He hasn’t left us as orphans. He is with us, even now. His Holy Spirit dwells in our hearts as our comforter, counselor, and friend. His heavenly Father is our Father who gives us a forever home and makes us his family for life, through Jesus Christ, his Son. Amen.
“If you love me, hold on to my commands. I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever. He is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive because it does not see him or know him. You know him because he stays with you and will be in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will see me no longer, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. The one who has my commands and holds on to them is the one who loves me. And the one who loves me will be loved by my Father. I too will love him and show myself to him.” (EHV)
When you hear the word “orphanage,” does your mind immediately come up with the image of Oliver Twist, dressed in rags, holding up an empty bowl and saying, “Please, sir, I want some more”? Or maybe you jump straight to Annie with her hard-knock life. Her orphanage was run by a woman who cared nothing for the children under her supervision, but the orphans all remain upbeat and cheerful, singing and dancing as they do their chores, all by sticking together and dreaming about tomorrow.
For the most part, the concept of an orphanage is a fairly modern idea, and one that didn’t last very long before it fell out of favor. In ancient times, you could almost always find a relative who’d be willing to take in a helpless infant, and as soon as the child was old enough to do anything useful, they’d be sold off as indentured servants. If they weren’t so lucky, they begged and scrounged and stole in the streets. Orphanages became society’s brilliant solution to the problem in the 18th century. Pack them away, out of sight, out of mind, problem solved. Food, clothing, and shelter–their physical needs were met, more or less; what more could a child want? What more could they expect of life than a bed, some clothes, and a bowl of gruel? Were they ungrateful if they said, “Please, sir, I want something more than that,” and unappreciative if a sunny tomorrow always seemed to be more than a day away?
Now we recognize that children need more than food and shelter; they need both the personal care and attention that would better come from a foster family than a large institution, and they need the stability of knowing the home where they are placed is as permanent and dependable as possible. Adoption is best, but a single, long-term foster family is much better than either an institutional dormitory or switching families every other week. Everyone needs “home” and “family”, and neither of those words really means anything unless it’s a forever home and family for life.
But when Jesus told his disciples, “I will not leave you as orphans,” every single one of them was grown up, long past the age of adoption or needing a foster family to take charge of them. They were grownups. They weren’t fretting over the thought, “Who’s going to take care of us until we’re old enough to take care of ourselves?”
It wasn’t food or clothing or shelter that they needed, but home and family. The day after Jesus gave his disciples this assurance that he would not leave them as orphans, he left them. He died. They had never had a place to call home for as long as they had been disciples of the wandering teacher from Nazareth, and yet it was only now that they truly became homeless. The disciples still had each other, didn’t they? But what is a disciple, a student or a follower, when he has no teacher and no one to follow? They weren’t disciples any more, just eleven men with nowhere to go and nothing to do. They were grownups, but “orphaned” is exactly how each of them felt.
Jesus kept his promise, first by returning, alive and glorified, just three days later on Easter Sunday. Second, by giving them his Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost fifty days later (next Sunday) to dwell in their hearts as a comforter, counselor, and friend for life. Third, by reminding them that he and the Father are one. God is everywhere. Where God the Father is, God the Son can always be found, and God the Holy Spirit can’t be far away. Father, Son, and Spirit are always with us, and we have family for life in our forever home.
“Because I live, you too shall live,” Jesus said. That’s a promise of a forever home that awaits us even after we die, but it’s also a promise for a new sort of life we have today, living in the aftermath of Easter and Pentecost. If we have food, clothing, a bed to sleep in, and a roof over our heads, that’s enough for us to survive on. Even a Dickensian orphanage provided that. But that’s not life. It’s living, surviving, but it’s not thriving.
Back on Good Shepherd Sunday Jesus told us, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” But what is having life to the full? Is it what we’ve been living for the last couple of months, cooped up, separated from family and friends? If these unconventional times have taught us anything, it’s that food, clothing, and shelter aren’t enough. It’s not thriving. It’s not life to the full.
The country is starting to open up again. People will be returning to stores, restaurants, and workplaces. That helps with the cabin fever we’ve been experiencing, but it’s still not life to the full. We’ll still have to do our social distancing for some time to come yet, and every time you consciously keep six feet away from somebody, you’ll remind yourself of the threat we still face and of the closeness we still miss.
What is life to the full in a time of pandemic? It’s not food, clothing, and shelter; that’s for sure. It starts with home and family--a forever home and family for life. Our Savior’s first words today were, “If you love me, hold on to my commands.” Love. Love for our Savior and love for each other—that’s how you live life to the full. And holding on to Jesus’ commands, following his will persistently, patiently, without ever letting go or giving up, is how you love.
But does that instruction give you a moment of pause? Do you feel a slight twinge of soul-searching discomfort when he says, “If you love me...”? It sounds a bit like a test, like he’s not completely sure we do. If he’s not sure, how can we be?
Don’t sin. Simple. In fact, being cooped up at home should make that even simpler. Have you seen any crime statistics lately? Crime rates are way down. Not surprisingly, since people aren’t out on the streets waiting to get mugged. They aren’t out in bars where they get drunk, get into fights, and do some drunk driving afterwards on the way home. Crime rates go down when people stay home. But domestic violence is up, as people stuck in the same house together get impatient with each other. Reported child abuse is way down, and that’s terrifying. It hasn’t stopped; it’s just that children are no longer seen by teachers and others to recognize what’s happening to them at home. They have no one to tell.
My point is that avoiding the world doesn’t help you avoid sin. Quarantine gives you fewer opportunities, both to show love publicly to your neighbors and to get into trouble publicly, sinning against your neighbors, but it does not change the heart. The heart that sits alone at home still sins. The heart that sits alone at home still loves.
After his resurrection Jesus went to Peter and asked him three times, “Do you love me?” Peter gave a very good answer, “Lord, you know all things. You already know the answer. You know that I love you.” He knows all things. He knows our sins. He knows our weaknesses. And that's what gives us pause. It's why Peter was troubled by the question and why we feel uncomfortable when he says, "The one who has my commands and holds on to them is the one who loves me." He knows us too well. But even though you and I don’t know all things, we know very well that Jesus loves us, even when we fall short. He loved us first. He’ll love us always. And when I find I don’t have the strength to hold on to his commands, he’ll still have the strength to hold on to me, to restore me when I fall, to forgive me when I sin, and to make me a conduit of his love once again.
Jesus didn’t say these words in a courtroom, challenging us to prove we love him by our good deeds before he’ll declare us not guilty and free to go. He speaks them in a classroom, teaching us what it means to love--not just feeling tender emotions or saying the right words, but doing what is right and loving. He taught by example, getting down on his hands and knees to wash their feet, and said, “As I have loved you, love one another.” That night he was showing us by his love what it means to live life to the full. The next day he showed us by dying on a shameful cross. That’s living life to the full? Yes, because that’s showing love to the full. The fullness of love was sacrificing his life for us. The fullness of his love paid for all our sins and opened the door to our forever home and our family for life. The fullness of his love led from death on a cross to an empty tomb and the glorious new life of Easter resurrection. Our Lord and Savior forgives all our sins, fully and freely, just as he fully and freely loved and loves us. And his love and forgiveness changes us. "If you love me, hold on to my commands," isn't a test; it's a description of the new love we have and the full life we live.
In a time of social distancing, we may not be able to express the fullness of our love for one another the way we would like, but as long as we live in the love of Christ we have life to the full. Be patient; this too shall pass. Hold on to Christ’s commands, his command to love one another, his command to honor and glorify his Father in all that we do, whether we eat or drink or whatever little thing we do in his name and by faith in him.
He hasn’t left us as orphans. He is with us, even now. His Holy Spirit dwells in our hearts as our comforter, counselor, and friend. His heavenly Father is our Father who gives us a forever home and makes us his family for life, through Jesus Christ, his Son. Amen.
