Getting ready for the inevitability of change

And so Jesus says, “I give you a gift, but the gift is in the form of a command. Why? Because he knows that without a command, most of us are going to twiddle our thumbs, saying, ‘I’m so lovely. Why doesn’t somebody do something?'” Jesus said, “I’ll do something. I’ll give you a command. If you’re going to be my disciple, the evidence will be that you love one another as I’ve loved you. And I make it a command because I’m telling you, in the transition that’s coming, the most important thing will be your relationships. You better get the hatches battened down. You better be ready, because in the transition, the alignment with relationships will be key.”

In the story of the vulnerable and disturbing interaction between Peter and Jesus in chapter 13, verses 36-38, there’s the inevitable product of transition, which is the humbling of our pride to past commitments, the total inability of human diagnosis and our own self-volition. Every transition, please hear this, if you hear nothing else, this: every transition will expose our weaknesses as well as our hope.

Does that bother you? Does it bother you that the transition they were about to go through was going to expose Peter at his worst? But by exposing him at his worst, it was to begin building him into the man who would be the rock of the church? Arthur Rubinstein, the pianist, said one day concerning practice, “If I fail to practice one day, I know it. If I miss practicing two days, my agent knows it. And if I refuse to practice three days, my public knows it.”

Let me tell you something. Do you fear having your weakness exposed? Is that what’s so bad to you? But somehow, in the transitions of life, you’ll have to discover your absolute dependency on Christ. Do you fear that, or do you welcome it? Do you say to God, “Get it over as fast as you can. Show me this so I can go on”? Nothing in life is more important than realistic acceptance of our own weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

Jesus, of course, detects the disciples’ problem and tells them not to be troubled, not to be tossed to and fro like restless waves under the blast of a wind. That’s really what he says, and so he gives them a discourse on the Father’s home. This incredibly important principle in change, which is the focus we must gain on the eternal and the unchanging. It’s the importance of illuminating the unchanging during our principal moment of change. It’s interesting.

A.T. Robertson, the great Greek scholar, translates these words of Jesus: “I shall take you along to my own home.” I love that. When is that going to be? Some of you think it’s the second coming. I want to suggest to you, as I already have, that when Jesus talked about this relationship in context, it cannot be a discussion about heaven that has no sense to the discussion, nor can it be eschatological, meaning the fact that he’s going to come again. He is saying to them something in change that’s going to make a difference in their life. During the shaking, don’t be troubled, he says. Don’t be shaking, because one day somehow you’re going to come and take me to the father’s home. Don’t be shaking because one day there’s going to be a second coming? No. Jesus says, “I’m going to bring you into the same relationship with the father that I have. I’m going to bring you into his home, and instead of relating to the father through me, you’re going to come to that relationship yourself. You’re going to be in the father’s home in the same way I am.” Boy, that makes things sit up in my life when I understand those words.

We used to sing a song in my dad’s church: “I found a friend, oh such a friend, He loved me ere I knew Him. He drew me with the cords of love and thus He bound me to Him. And round my heart still closely twine those ties which nought can sever, for I am His and He is mine forever and forever.” And in transition, you better know what’s internal, what’s unchanging, and Jesus says to these disciples, the only way you’re going to get over this being troubled is to really come to abide in the Father, to know that same security that I’ve had, whether there are Judas or Pharisees or crowds or mobs. I have a place of absolute safety in the Father, and you must know it as well.

Sixth and in some ways the same as principle five, for Jesus turns then to Thomas’ question by saying, “I’m the way, the truth, and the life. The believer will never be a restless, unceasing search for evidence and experience.” Oh, I want to take this morning on this point. I’ve watched this restless charismatic movement over the last 20 years, and I’ve wanted to say to them hundreds of times, “Stop. Why do you have to have another experience? Why are you running about for another teaching? Why is it another thrill? Isn’t Jesus enough? Isn’t the word of God enough? When are you going to come to know Him who is the way, who is the truth, who is the Zoe, the Life? When are you going to cease your restless search?”

Don had us sing a couple of Sundays ago, “My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.” My favorite verse in that song, not the favorite of many, but mine is the third verse: “His oath, his covenant, his blood support me in the whelming flood; when all around my soul gives way, he then is all my hope and stay. On Christ, the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand. All other ground is sinking.”

One thing the transition is meant to do, and that’s exactly what Jesus was answering Thomas, is to get you to understand the eternal nature of the relationship that you have with Christ and its absolute security.

Seventh, from the last discourse of Jesus in John 13 and 14, and particularly his response to Philip, is the principle of absolute union with.

Lastly and finally, this marvelous, phenomenal promise: how many times believers take this out of context? It is a promise of unlimited authority and relationship. “Indeed, I will ask anything you ask in my name.” That’s not a formula, ladies and gentlemen. That says if it’s asked according to the principles of the character of Christ, it’s guaranteed for fulfillment. “In my name” isn’t a formula. It has to do with the kind of prayer you’re praying according to that which is in his nature.

Robert Browning once wrote, “A man’s reach must exceed his grasp, or what is heaven?”. Jesus is talking about a quality of life that sends you out with this ultimate sense of joy. Most of you know musical terms to some degree: adagio, which means slow, and allegro, which means fast and cheerful. But then there’s an interesting one, seldom used, which means with vivacity or spiritedness. I want you to know God’s intention for your life is that there be veracity and spiritedness to your life.

This is such an interesting passage, this beginning of Jesus dealing with his disciples’ last discourse. He’s going to leave it all to them, but in the course of it, he develops a strategy. And if you back away from the passage and forget the way you memorized these scriptures, you see what Jesus is doing. He’s drawing from his own personal experience the nature of what it is to be so in the Father and so in love with his purpose that the change that is necessary to bring about the fulfillment of his purpose is embraced with dignity and joy.

Oh my friend, I cannot bring those words to you more clearly. That’s what Lent is. It is to embrace with dignity and joy the process that must come to pass, the change that must be in order that I come into the fullness of what he has ordained for me and desired for me in my Christian life and experience. Would you stand with me please.

I wrote in the letter that we sent to you this week about Lent, that this is an opportunity to prepare for a personal journey into joy, a journey from “nowness” to newness. And I want you to say that word with me, “nowness” to newness. Once again, “nowness” to newness. You know what “nowness” is, but do you really understand what newness could be? He invites you to that journey, not with a negative apprehension. The future is so fearful, all there is, is the cross, and all there is, is now. Jesus begins by saying, “I’m glad this is over. I’ve been as faithful to Judas as I can be. I can’t control men’s wills, but I’m glad this thing is set. It’s set and ordained, and I face the cross with the understanding of the victory of the resurrection. I surrender myself to the process whereby God’s purpose is going to be accomplished in me.”

Don’t you dare come to the end of this passage and take the promise of praying in His name without understanding the necessity of union with the Father and absolute faithfulness in your relationship to one another. That’s the context in which newness becomes possible. Take the hand of someone beside you. There’s coffee prepared out on the patio for you in just a moment, and time is a bit shortened this morning.

Please pick up your Lenten bulletin and devotional book, “The Sanctuary.” It’s free of charge, and we will hand out another devotional reading material on Ash Wednesday. Just begin to ask God, “Lord, help me to understand transition and change, to embrace process, to hunger for doing this, to journey by deliberation towards your joy.” Father, thank you for this day, thank you for what you say to us and speak to us in the spirit. Lord, make us discontent with the old, willing to put it off. The “nowness” of our life, not saying things haven’t been good and wonderful, but that you want us constantly to move to that which is new.

And Lord, we do so in the fullness of understanding that you give us the principles, the relationships, to stand with fervent preparation for the moment that comes. We thank you for that in Jesus’ name, and everyone said, “Amen.” You’re dismissed. God bless you. You can go through these doors that bring you quickly to either the prayer chapel or the coffee patio.