Through Stained Glass: Choosing Belief, a sermon

Grammatical Caveat: Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation (i.e., are written for the ear), the written accounts occasionally deviate from proper and generally accepted principles of grammar and punctuation. Most often, these deviations are not mistakes per se but are indicative of an attempt to aid the listener in the delivery of the sermon.

“Choosing Belief”

John 14.1-14

Sunday, May 10, 2020

Fifth Sunday of Easter

The truth is, I didn’t always like going to church.

I know that's probably hard to believe since I am a pastor. But it is true. I didn't always go gleefully or even willingly to Bethel Presbyterian Church. As I got older, I bargained with my parents. "If I go to Sunday school, can I stay in the office during the service?" The office was one of the many rooms that had entertainment—a TV and them old school cartoons about Jesus.

Before hanging out in the office, the way I went about arguing to stay out of the sanctuary, so I didn't have to listen to the floating head was to tell my parents that me and the other kids, usually my cousins, would stay in the room with the speaker. That way, while we were playing with the toys in the nursery, which meant throwing the dolls around like footballs, we could hear the message from the pastor. Rarely did they agree, but when they did, it was awesome. For sixty to seventy-five minutes, depending on who was pastor at the time, we were living our best lives in the basement of Bethel. With worship happening upstairs, we were playing hide and seek in the many rooms of the church. Including the dungeon—the part of the church that was once where the good ole days happened but became the cemetery for inoperative ping pong tables, the dwelling place for decorations and ghost from past Christmas pageants, and a cave for bats, and I don't mean the Louisville slugger type. The way we spent those Sunday mornings are some of my favorite memories as a boy.

Oh, and the great Sunday school lessons learned, too.

God’s house has many dwelling mansions.

These are the words Jesus offers to his disciples the night of his arrest. He speaks to them in what scholars call Jesus's farewell discourse. He is speaking to them, probably in an upper room, and telling them what is to happen. Christ is revealing to them that though life is about to change and get pretty scary, the disciples need not let their hearts be troubled. Jesus promises that in the face of his impending death, they need not fear because they know the way to God. It is assuring that Jesus recognizes the anxiety in the disciples and offers a promise to ease it.

It doesn't work, though, does it? Thanks be to God for anxious disciples that name and ask what everyone else in that room and this one is thinking. Thomas asks Jesus for a roadmap: “How can we know the way?”  Philip asks for proof: “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”  What they want — what we all want, if we’re honest — is the religion of the GPS, the five-point plan, the twelve steps, the ten commandments. Like so many of us three months deep in this pandemic, we want to know the best way forward. How do we continue to navigate faithfully through these uncertain times with so many people getting antsy?

The response Jesus gives, well, it is confusing. It is assuring but also confusing. Oh, and difficult. And did I mention confusing? The disciples want a perfect plan that includes a clear explanation of the phases of what will happen to them once Jesus goes to this place they aren't sure they've ever seen before. Instead, they get Jesus. No LINK articles. No roadmap. No instruction manual. No five-phase plan. Just himself. Just his compassion, his tenderness, his intimacy, and his love. They get what he has offered to them from the beginning: a relationship rooted in trust, patience, and vulnerability. 

What they got is what we get, too. We don't get easy answers or a quick fix. Jesus never offers that, and neither does God. What Jesus does offer is the promise that what we need to endure the darkest of days and sustain us during the uncertain season we have already seen: the love of God in Christ poured out by the Spirit onto the people of God. The disciples are then encouraged to do the works of Christ, that is, to make way for the reign of God. Christ tells them that in God's house, there are many dwelling places and does so to remind them that there is plenty of room for all of God's people. The caveat though, is that he wasn't talking about the afterlife only. Jesus extends the abiding relationship between Jesus and the Father into a relationship that we may now enter into also. The author reminds the disciples, and us, that Christ's abiding with God did not start when he died. Instead, it was a description of how he embodied the love of God. 

The same is true for us, too. The life of faith is not about where we live in the ‘afterlife,’ but where we live in the present. What we know from the promise Jesus makes is the truth that we abide in God always and forever. Nothing about God is exclusive—not even the place where God dwells. Jesus as the way, the truth, and the life reveal to us that in Christ, we participate in the life of God and experience life eternal.

Here's the good news, friends. We need not be afraid no matter what we experience because we abide in God, who abides in us. Christ revealed to us the way, the truth, and the life that leads to an abundant life. Remember, Jesus came not to create a rigid religion, nor did he develop blueprints for church buildings. Instead, Jesus offered his presence to God's people and said, go and do likewise. Thus, the greater works we will do will occur beyond the walls of the church, and in the relationships, we build with each other, strangers and enemies, friends, and neighbors.

My most memorable moments as a child growing up in church didn't come from sitting through sermons, nor was I ever really moved by the songs the choir sang. Instead, the way, the truth, and the life Christ spoke of I found with my friends and my family, running through the halls of God's house and hiding in the many rooms while we played ghosts in the graveyard. Why? Because we come to know God when we seek and honor the Risen Christ in everyone we meet. When we get to know people, we come to know the Divine. The house of God is all the world and includes all the people.

The truth, though, getting to a life lived this way, is challenging. It isn't easy. Especially in precarious times like the one we live in now. But we know the way, and it is demanding. The way is dangerous. The way takes time. But the invitation of this Gospel is still a proclamation to the assurance of Christ’s promise. Not because we're specialists at finding God, but because God has always and already found us. With every unknowing we embrace, God sees us one more time.

""In my Father's house there are many dwelling places," Jesus tells his sorrowing disciples. Meaning: God is roomy. God is generous. God is hospitable. God can handle your doubts, your fears, and your questions. And God's offer of belonging extends far beyond the confines of this mortal life. "I go and prepare a place for you," Jesus says as he stands in the shadow of his cross. You have a place with me. You have a home with God. You have a place."

Faith may not come easy. These days, it might be challenged. The promise of the Gospel, however, is that no matter the size of our faith, when we choose belief, we the Way is open before us. Somewhere along the way, whether in a spectacular sermon or a verse from a VBS song, we know the way to God is through love. We know it.  We know Jesus, and because we know Jesus, we know God.  The Way will safely bear us home.  Do not let your hearts be troubled.