Bearing Withness
By Jared Slack
A Sermon on John 14:8-17
For Pentecost Sunday
June 9, 2019
First Austin: a baptist community of
faith
My
doctor and I aren’t on speaking terms at the moment.
Well,
to be clear, she doesn’t actually know that I’ve been giving her the silent
treatment since my last wellness exam, but rest assured, If I were to see her
out in public somewhere I’d muster all of the passive aggressive energy and
finely-tuned cold shoulders I have in my possession to let her know, without
actually letting her know, that things are not okay between the two of us.
I kept my cool when she said I had to eat more leafy
greens and lean white meat.
I went along with her advice to exercise more.
And I’ve even taken up hobbies to help relieve some
stress.
But about a month ago, she crossed an unforgivable
line.
She had the audacity to tell me I’m no longer
allowed to eat breakfast cereals that have cartoon characters on the box. Which,
at the age of 36, is just not something I was anywhere near emotionally or
spiritually prepared to hear.
You see, when I was a child I naively thought that
growing up would be rife with perks like getting to stay up as late as I wanted
(even on week nights), not having to share my package of M&Ms with my
brother on long road trips, eating tacos for every meal of the day free of
judgment, or getting to watch Terminator 2 and Weekend at Bernie’s
without feeling like I was breaking the law.
And while all those things have certainly come true,
growing up has also meant other things…
Like having to pay bills, doing my taxes, taking out
a mortgage, and being responsible for keeping batteries stocked in the house.
It’s meant eating better, exercising regularly, and
finally looking up the word “cholesterol” on WebMD.
But beyond this are the much harder to swallow doses
of reality that become more fully known as you grow up – the hard truths about
our world that we were rightfully shielded from as kids. Growing up comes at
the cost of becoming aware that the world you and I live in is cruel and
unfair.
At this very moment, all over the world and right
here in our own back yard, communities and people are being ravaged by war and
violence. Poverty, racism, exploitation of the most vulnerable, and the
silencing of those who exist on the periphery of our societies…these are all
things you come to learn as you grow up; that these kinds of human atrocities
exist and proliferate in all corners of our society; that often, our world
cares very little about people being tossed to the side and forgotten; that the
price of a modern, developing world run by people who yearn for power and place
comes at the harsh expense of an unlucky few who bear the brunt of our social
sins.
There’s this part of me that wishes I didn’t have to
know about these things. That I could keep up the naive blinders of childhood
and have my perspective on the world remain an endless loop of simplicity,
safety, and sameness.
Just this past week I was sulking up and down the
cereal aisle at HEB, begrudgingly following my doctor’s orders and forcing
myself to peruse all those boring boxes with not a single cartoon character in
sight, cereal boxes promising to be “delicious and excellent sources” of
things like fiber, flax seed, whole grain, and omega-3…like all these things
are somehow supposed to be magically appealing to me now that I’ve reached a
certain age.
So today, as we consider this passage from the
Gospel of John, at the very beginning of what scholars refer to as Jesus’
Farewell Discourse, I can’t help but think that these disciples had found
themselves right smack dab in the middle of their very own cereal box crisis of
sorts; feeling ill-prepared for what’s to be required of them in this
fast-approaching next phase of their growing up.
It seems that no
matter how much the disciples may protest, question, or speak up about their
ill-preparedness, Jesus tells them he will be leaving soon.
I can’t help but
feel kind of bad for them.
In John’s Gospel,
the author goes to great lengths to portray these disciples as being skilled in
the art of missing the point, of misunderstanding most everything that comes
out of Jesus’ mouth and being agonizingly slow on the uptake in regards to the
overarching purpose of Jesus’ presence in their lives.
Instead of sticking
around until the disciples had a bit more time to let these things sink in to
get his affairs straight, Jesus tells them that he’s going away.
And what’s more, amidst
this breaking news, not only would Jesus be leaving them, but that he also has
some hope-filled expectations for them in his absence. In verse 12 he says, “Very
truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do
and, in fact, will do greater works than these.”
What exactly is
Jesus getting at here? Greater works than these? What could these disciples, or
you and I for that matter, do that could ever be “greater” than what Jesus has
already done?
Throughout all the
Gospels, Jesus heals the sick and raises the dead. He draws crowds of thousands
to sit on hillsides and listen to him speak about God. His teaching is so
magnetic, so powerful, so undeniably true, that left and right people are quite
literally dropping everything they’ve ever known just to follow him.
How are we ever supposed to top that?
I don’t know about
you, but it’s a bit anxiety-creating, if you ask me.
And it’s not that I
think Jesus is standing back shaking his head or wagging a judgmental finger at
us in disappointment; that’s not it at all. For me, at least, it’s a bit like
something the young people are saying these days…
And even saying
that is yet another example of what it means to grow up…
This anxiety I feel
is a bit like the acronym they use on the instagrammy and the snapchatter
called FOMO. The Fear Of Missing Out.
If there are
“greater things” to be done in this world, “greater things” to experience, then
I don’t want to be missing out on them. I don’t want to be standing on the
sidelines watching from a distance, only getting to be a spectator to all the
action. I long for our church to be the kind of community that’s in on these
kinds of things.
And it’s on days
like today that I feel like we’re approaching the greater things that Jesus was
speaking of. Because, while I’m not exactly sure what “greater things” Jesus
had in mind, I do believe that Jesus’ primary concern at this moment in time is
for the community of believers both then and now to discover what it all means
to trust in this promise of greater things. To believe in our hearts that no
matter what, together we will find a way.
To trust that in
the ever-changing circumstances and contexts in which the church finds herself
that we might be able to discover anew what faithfulness looks like. That we
might bravely and boldly lean into the future and embrace the challenge of
creating the kind of community that follows in the way of Jesus in an
ever-changing world.
But I want to be
clear – Jesus’ words here aren’t about mere survival, or coping, or weathering
the storm. You see, I think there’s a tendency in the church to believe that
the best that we can possibly do in this constantly shifting world of our is to
just keep on existing, to keep plugging away like we’ve always done and hope
things get better. But friends, I have to be honest with you… there are
far worse things than a church no longer existing.
For me, Jesus is
imagining a community of believers that is flourishing, not just surviving. One
that is growing and maturing, not stuck in worn patterns. One that is
faithfully continuing down the path Jesus has set us down, confident in this
message we’ve been given to go out into the world and befriend the outcast,
heal the sick, speak up for the marginalized, house the homeless, feed the
hungry, and speak truth to and about the empire.
A community that is
crazy and courageous enough to believe that our better days aren’t behind us,
that greater things are still possible and that together we can experience
them. A community that is so stubbornly committed to the belief that the world
still needs the church, that we still matter, that we can still make a
difference.
Maybe this is some
of my adolescent naivety still holding on for dear life, but I believe the
Gospel welcomes us to de-prioritize our comfort, our personal preferences for
how we like things to be done, but instead calls us towards adventurous
re-invention and an obedience that just might look a whole lot like the
“greater things” Jesus was telling us about.
He goes on to tell
us in verse 25, “I have said these things to you while I am still with you.
But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will
teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.”
With the daunting
task of experiencing “greater things” still looming in the air, Jesus promises
to send another presence into their lives, much like his own presence. The Greek
word here is parakletos, which is a mashup of two words: para
which means “alongside,” and kletos which means “called”. Literally the parakletos
is “the one called alongside.”
In this midst of
the life-long project of you and I being developed into the kinds of people and
the kind of community that trusts in the possibility of greater things, that
lives into the experience of greater things, Jesus promises to be with us, not
in a physical presence but in a different way.
A way that I like
to call the “with-ness of God.”
And it’s when I get
to be around people like Francis and Missy, living their lives in faithfulness,
being present to the pain of women, men and children caught up in the messes of
our world that I get a better glimpse of this “with-ness” that Jesus talks
about.
Just moments ago,
you heard from Missy as she shared the story of Amani Sasa and the passion that
both she and Francis have for walking alongside the vulnerable and speaking the
truth over their lives that they aren’t forgotten. That God remembers them,
that God holds them, and that God longs for their wholeness and flourishing.
As I’ve learned
about their work and been around them this week, these two people have been a
shining example of what Pentecost is all about: that the sending of the Spirit
to be with us isn’t just for our benefit, but it’s so that we can go out and
spread the message of God’s abiding presence. To go out and bear witness to the
with-ness of God. That in the face of a rapidly changing world, that we aren’t
left alone to figure this out. That we can do ever greater things because there
is one who is alongside us.
A few years ago,
just before my grandmother passed away, I went home to see her one last time.
When I walked into the hospital room, she was resting, so I quietly sat down
beside her. And while waiting there for her to wake up, I found on her side
table a book of meditations and quotes from Mother Teresa that I had given her
that Christmas. There in the quiet, with the occasional beep of her heart
monitor, I opened the book to read a little bit in the silence. Hoping that
there might be some words of comfort for the both of us…
I was met that
afternoon with these words: “If we have no peace, it is because we have
forgotten that we belong to each other.”
Now, it wasn’t the
first time I’d read that quote, and I’m sure for many of you it’s not the first
time you’ve heard it, either. But ever since that day, I’ve latched onto its truth.
I’ve clung to it because there’s something about it that cuts right to the
chase about the way things are these days.
We exist in a world
that has gotten really good at “forgetting we belong to each other.” A world
that has opted for a path of individualism and separation. A world that chooses
power over people. A world that prefers to shift blame and label people as
“other.”
But I believe that, in so many ways, the whole point of it all – creation, covenant, incarnation,
resurrection, and Pentecost – are all meant to enable us to live our lives the
same was Jesus did, bearing the “withness of God” to a world that’s forgotten
that we belong together.
And for me, that’s
the most important aspect of our Mission program here at First Austin. Through
our partnerships with people like Missy and Francis Angalla, and Tina and
Jonathan Bailey, and Maha and Chaouk Boulos, and Casey and Brittany Ramirez we
are bearing the withness of God.
We are making the
commitment as a community of faith to be faithfully present to their needs,
celebrating the greater things they are doing in their parts of the world,
encouraging them in their ministry, and doing the good work of generously and
sacrificially supporting them as they grow and expand.
Right now, Missy
and Francis are in the middle of a huge leap in their ministry, after years of
working alongside another organization in Kampala, Uganda. The needs have
gotten so great and the confines of their space have gotten so limiting that
they’ve listened to the prompting of God’s spirit to step out and grow the work
of Amani Sasa by moving into a bigger space that better fits their growing
needs.
In all, through the
support of individuals and churches just like ours they’re needing to raise
$50,000 to make this dream a reality. Last night at our fundraising event for
Amani Sasa we helped them make a little bit of progress towards reaching their
goal, but we didn’t get to the place that I believe our church can get to.
And this morning
after worship, I hope that those of you who didn’t join us last night will take
a moment to stop by and say hello to Missy and Francis. And not only say hello
but consider making a generous donation to their goal.
Whenever I think
about the “greater things” that I believe Jesus hopes for this church, this is
one of them. That when one of our Global Mission Partners come to us with a
dream, we will do everything we possibly can to help them achieve it. That will
reach deep into our pockets and respond with the kind of generosity and
compassion that has been the foundation of this community since it’s very
beginning.
I believe in this
church. I believe that greater things are in store for us. I believe in Missy
and Francis. And I know with all my heart that greater things are in store for
them.
Together through
this partnership we can bear the withness of God to one another and to the
world. We can be an example of what can happen when believers join together and
do what many might think cannot be done.
And as much as the
disciples may have had hard time believing it when Jesus told them that it
would be so, they were ready for this work of bearing the withness of God to
the world. And I believe we are, too. AMEN.
*artwork: When the Day of Pentecost Came, by Mark A Hewitt, oldtractorinshed.net
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