John 14.23-29
“THE SEPARATION IS TEMPORARY”
When I was seven, a man called a “realtor” entered our home, inspected every room, and drove a metal sign into our front lawn. He might as well have driven that sign through my heart. For I looked at my parents and dissolved into tears. I sensed what was up. And they didn’t even consult with me; they’d hidden it from me. I didn’t want to leave. I knew the fences where the concord grapes grew and the brambles where blackberries awaited me. I knew where to avoid the bee-hives and getting stung. My teacher was Miss Rudd, the finest teacher I would have. She believed in me. It had been a great summer, the Tigers vs. Yankees pennant race going to the precious final days in 1961, Whitey Ford vs. Frank Lary, Mickey Mantle vs Al Kaline. Move? I didn’t want to leave any of that behind.
Have you ever felt like you were dying inside because you couldn’t say goodbye to a place, an era, or a beloved person? And that grief kept you from moving along to live your life in the present and fully occupy the future? In that moment, we could do worse than to hear Jesus’ Easter promises as he bids farewell to his followers. His words were something like: it feels like the being together was temporary and the being apart will be eternal. And that feels pretty awful. But just the opposite is the case: the being apart will be temporary, and being with all things lovely, all things true, all things holy, and all things you love will be eternal.
When I was eighteen, I ached to leave home. I was certain that my parents would breathe easier once I left. But that morning I was to head off to college it wasn’t so easy. My mother was still asleep, having worked into the wee hours of that morning. My car was full and I was ready to zoom off to school. Back then all of my earthly belongings fit in the trunk and back seat of my red ‘67
In John, Jesus equips us for times like these. In chapter 14, he tells us: I will no longer talk much with you. (v. 30) You heard me say to you, ‘I go away, and I will come to you. (v. 28) I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. (v. 18) Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled. (v.27) Rise, let us be on our way. (v. 31)
Letting go is hard. And in these weeks, we face goodbyes at every turn. We have confirmands preparing to migrate from spiritual childhood to spiritual adulthood. We have high school seniors preparing to enter college facing the inevitable separation from friends, teachers, mentors, and families. We have friends for whom warm weather means high time to move to other parts of the country. We have children and grandchildren planning their weddings and a new way of life.
And so it goes. It seems that we are forever saying goodbye—goodbye to childhood, goodbye to high school, goodbye to friends, goodbye to jobs, goodbye to homes—goodbye, goodbye, and goodbye. We might think saying goodbye would get easier over time because we do it more than ever. We are a mobile society, right? But it doesn’t get easier. Each separation is a loss we mourn, whether temporary or permanent. Having to say goodbye reminds us how fragile this life is. At such times, we wonder whether anything will ever stay the same, whether there is anyone to whom we can cleave and never relinquish our grasp.
Our Gospel text is for such a time as this. Jesus prepares his own to bid him goodbye. He does his level best to quell their fears. He tells them that he is going ahead of them, but he promises he will not abandon them. Jesus is leaving. He can no longer be with them as he once was. He knows his going will be hard on them. But the living trust they share as they must be apart will take everything to which they are devoted to a higher level. That is the good news even in the face of that sock-in-the-gut of saying goodbye. It must happen because if Jesus stays they would never rise into the roles God foresaw. The Holy Spirit would have no room to enter, empower, and create the church. They would never scatter to the earth’s four corners as the redeeming, reconciling movement that we continue.
It feels like the being together is so short and the being apart will last forever. But look beneath the surface of your lives and see the being apart is momentary. And being in fellowship with all of the things that make life worth living is eternal. Friends, these are the Easter promises, unending life in the best possible sense.
I saw a story that can help us make this point and keep us from becoming too serious along the way. It is also appropriate because it anticipates the beach days we are looking forward to. It was about a fellow who lives in
“The sculptures reflect my light-hearted thoughts about a wide variety of subjects,” Lee says. “My favorite themes include fairy tales, underwater scenes, and Christmas. From a knight playing chess with a dragon to a scuba diver gliding by two beautiful mermaids, the characters he creates are so alive you can almost see the twinkle in their eyes. It can take 10 to 20 days to complete one of these sculptures, depending on its size and complexity. Once it’s finished, it’s displayed for a week, then it’s time to make way for something new. “It’s never my favorite day when I have to destroy a project so I can create another,” Lee admits. “But I take extensive photos of them, and then it’s like saying goodbye to dear friends….Nothing in life is really permanent. Sand sculpture not only makes you aware of this, it makes you live for the present and enjoy every minute of it.” Hey, isn’t
Jesus insisted that we live in the moment and fully indwell it here and now. But he also held out hope for a future where eternal life doesn’t so much mean a line with two arrows on the end, like our geometry teachers tried to speak of eternity. No, eternal life for Jesus means something more like pick the best part of life you can imagine. Pick the people who make you feel most alive. Pick the setting that you wished would never end. Pick the scenario where you said to yourself this is the way life is supposed to be. And when it ended, you wanted nothing so much as to cry. Eternal life is such a moment as that, but that moment will never expire. Remember, the reason all this is so beautiful is because life won’t be like this forever. But that doesn’t mean life ends. Jesus promises the best is yet to come.
My favorite sand sculptures are the castles of sand or maybe the sand mansions. I like both the grandeur they suggest and how fleeting they are, both are wise and important lessons. For the moment is always fleeting but God has greater things in store for us than we can imagine. Jesus came to help us take hold of that. Earlier in chapter 14, in the words of the King James Version, Jesus said, “Let not your heart be troubled: believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.”
So what does all of this mean to you here and now? you wonder. Here is what it means. As a pastor I have learned something that I need to say more often no matter what manner of goodbye we happen to be facing up to on any given day. It is the promise among those beloved of God and those who love one another that the being apart will be temporary, and the being together will be eternal.
Of course, it seems just the opposite that the separation will be eternal, and the being together was only temporary. But beyond the resurrection of Jesus Christ we glimpse our restoration and reunion here. In every important relationship that we know in this mortal life it feels like there is never enough time. Never enough time to relax and enjoy. Never enough time to say and show how much we love one another. Never enough time for cousins to play together, or neighbors to transcend busy routines to enjoy barbecues, or grandparents to have free time showing their grandchildren what it means to be human and what it means to live
Friends, Jesus words assure us that there is enough time. Although goodbyes seem the order of the day, and we are haunted by the regret of not seizing the moment and sharing more of life and love with those who matter to us, remember always: it is the separation that is temporary; the being together shall be eternal.
Sometimes when I have trouble trusting this promise and regret gets the upper hand, I recall the verse that was later added to that great hymn, Amazing Grace:
“When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise,
Than when we’d first begun.”
Amen.
Joyful and giving One, we continue to walk the path of resurrection, encoun-tering you on the journey to Pentecost. It is easy to forget the celebration of
Easter Day, yet we are an Easter people forever. In this 50 days of Eastertide, may we daily live the resurrection in our spirits and show the joy of resurrection to all around us. When the joy is elusive, remind us, O God, that your plan for each of us and all of us in Christ's community is larger than our own desires, our own hurts, our own plans. Keep us connected to your energy of love, so that we cannot help but share it with the world. As we await the day of the Holy Spirit, may you keep us alive in your hope. We ask it in the name of the Risen One. Amen.
