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John 14:18-24

April 3, 2022 • Mount Pleasant UMC

Every time we have moved into a new house, I’ve noticed there is a time when that house becomes something more than just a place to put our stuff. Somewhere along the way, a house becomes a home, and I’ve wondered what it is that causes that transition. Of course, there are these profound statements about home, like: “Home is where the heart is” and “Home is where the wifi connects automatically.” Right? Well, I wanted to hear what others might think, so I asked you all on Facebook this week what it is that makes your house into a home. There were a lot of answers, from puppies to blankets and pillows to the memories you build and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. But the two biggest answers I got centered around the words “love” and “family.” Apparently it’s not ultimately our stuff that makes a house a home; it’s the people we share life with inside. Ralph Waldo Emerson said it this way: “A house is made with walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams.”

There is something about “home” that our hearts gravitate toward, which is why, when we hear Jesus talking about “home” and his presence there, our hearts tend to quicken just a little bit. And it’s why, when we hear a faithful saint has died, we tend to say things like, “They’ve gone home to be with Jesus.” On the very last night Jesus spent with his disciples before the cross, he made them a promise that, I’m certain, echoed in their hearts and minds in the days, months and years to come. He told them this: “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them” (14:23).

This Lenten season, we’ve been journeying with Jesus through some of the instructions, teachings and lessons he gave to his disciples on the final night he spent with them. As we get closer to Holy Week, we’re going to speed up a bit but not before we make a stop here near the end of their time in what we call the Upper Room. These eleven men and Jesus are about to leave this borrowed space and head toward the Garden of Gethsemane. There, Jesus will be arrested and taken away from the eleven. These men have been together for three years now, and in many ways, their “home” has been wherever Jesus was. This band of disciples has become like family (which is a big part of why Judas’ betrayal surprised them so much). Now, the family is about to be ripped apart and their “home” is about to be taken away. Jesus, in this moment, wants to give them a new definition of home and a new vision for the future, a vision of what it means to live in that home.

So let’s look at this passage this morning by considering three words Jesus uses, the first of which is “orphans.” He tells them, “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you” (14:18). The word there is orphanos, and most translations have it as “orphans.” The King James Version, though, says “comfortless,” which refers to the fact that most often orphans are in that state as the result of a parent’s death. There are a lot of layers here in what Jesus is saying, but the underlying promise is that Jesus knows they are going to feel abandoned when he dies, and he wants to, right here and now, before it happens, let them know he’s not going to leave them alone. He wants them to hold on to hope. Of course, he’s told them what is coming and promised that he is going to be raised from the dead, but they have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t know if they weren’t paying attention of couldn’t understand and were afraid to ask, but they do not expect his death and they do not expect his resurrection. It’s hard for us, who know the rest of the story so well, to put ourselves into their shoes, but they really have no idea what is coming. For us, reading this text, the shadow of the cross is hanging over everything, and in the background is the bright hope of the resurrection. But try to imagine what it was like for them, hearing Jesus talk about these things in a darkened Upper Room, at what they thought was going to be “just another” Passover meal. Imagine the confusion they must have felt when he says, “Before long…you will see me” (14:19). He tells them this to plant a seed that will grow, and even when they see him beaten, when they see him crucified, when they know he has been laid in a borrowed tomb, he wants them to know they can have hope. Jesus knows they will feel left alone in the coming few days, but he wants them to remember this promise.

I remember when I needed that promise. I am thankful that both of my parents are still living, but I remember clearly when my grandmother died. I was in high school and she was the first close relative I remember losing. Grandma had always been there, and then all of a sudden she wasn’t. Now, I know I wasn’t “orphaned” in the traditional sense, but there was a loss, an emptiness that hadn’t been there before. And the image that sticks in my head is not at the funeral home or at the church. It’s standing on the hill at the Geetingsville Cemetery after the committal service, feeling a loneliness I hadn’t ever felt before. And it was at that moment that another member of our church came over and wrapped his arms around me. I don’t remember him saying anything, but in that moment, he was the presence of Jesus to me. For these disciples, Jesus was going to appear to them after he was resurrected. They were going to see him again and know that he had not abandoned them. For us, most often, the presence of the resurrected Jesus comes to us tangibly in the form of another member of the body of Christ, someone who becomes the hands and feet of (or arms of a hug from) Jesus. To those first disciples and to us, Jesus promises we will not be left alone. In his family, there are no orphans.

As Jesus goes on, the “other” Judas interrupts with a question: “Why do you intend to show yourself to us and not to the world?” (14:22). It’s a perfectly legitimate question, especially since the disciples expected that the Messiah would be very public, would be known. It’s a good question…that Jesus completely ignores (cf. Card, John: The Gospel of Wisdom, pg. 164). Instead, he goes on to tell them that after all that’s going to happen, he will come back to them and he and the Father will make their home with them (14:23). There’s an interesting thing that happens in the Gospels that, at first glance, might just look like a grammatical choice, but I think there’s more going on. When Jesus was walking through the hills of Galilee and the streets of Jerusalem, we’re told the disciples are “with” him. That’s an important idea we’re going to look at more in a few weeks. But as he moves toward the cross and especially as he promises and then later gives them the gift of the Holy Spirit, we hear more and more about him living “in” them…and us. In fact, the phrase Paul uses to describe where we live more than any other phrase is this one: “in Christ.” That phrase or a variation of it is used 172 times in the New Testament. In fact, Paul uses that phrase to define who or what a Christian is: “If anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17). We even probably use that phrase from time to time (maybe not as much as Paul) and we don’t usually think about what it means. God is going to make his home with us and we will live in him (cf. Dunnam, With Jesus in the Upper Room, pg. 118). What is going on here?

You know, I kind of said Jesus didn’t answer the other Judas’ question, but he actually does, though not directly. (Jesus rarely answers anything directly.) Judas wants to know why Jesus doesn’t show himself to the world. The word he uses is also used to describe the way God showed himself at the top of Mount Sinai to Moses. Judas seems to be asking about when Jesus is going to make some sort of spectacular demonstration, when he’s going to show off and do something everyone will notice (cf. Whitacre, John [IVPNTC], pg. 362). When will the big display of glory take place? Isn’t that what a Messiah, the savior of the world, is supposed to do? And Jesus basically tells them all, “That’s not what I’m going to do. Instead, I’m going to show the world who I am through you.” You see, a big demonstration could be easily forgotten. Or people might think it was a dream or a hallucination of some sort. But what they can’t ignore, or at least shouldn’t be able to ignore, are people who are “in Christ,” who are as Martin Luther described us, “little Christs,” who are living out Jesus’ life in the world. The way the world is going to see Jesus is by looking at his body, the church. When we are “in him,” when he is our home, they will see Jesus through us.

So the other day I got an email from one of those real estate companies telling me that the value of my home had gone up significantly. You all know the housing market is nuts right now, right? This email claimed my house was worth way more than we originally paid for it seven years ago and was encouraging me to consider selling it. Attached to the email were pictures of my house. Okay, a little creepy, and then I got to looking at them and honestly I barely recognized the house. These were pictures from the real estate listing back when we bought the house, and we’ve not only made a lot of improvements in the last seven years, we also have different things on the walls and in the rooms than the previous occupants did. We’ve put our own mark on our home. That’s what Jesus does to our lives. When we put our lives “in Christ” and allow him to make his home with us, he begins, you could say, redecorating. He makes us more and more like him. The old is gone; the new has come. So Jesus is saying to the other Judas, “I’m going to show myself to the world through you.”

So how does that happen? Or, keeping with the theme, how do we arrive at that home? That’s the third important word in this passage: love. And Jesus spells “love” this way: o-b-e-d-i-e-n-c-e. Obedience. He puts it pretty simply: if you love him, you will obey his teaching. If you don’t love him, you won’t obey his teaching. He doesn’t say we will obey some of his teaching, or most of his teaching, or the parts of his teaching that we like. No, he says it almost like a math equation. Love = obedience. No love = no obedience. Because his teaching has come from his Father (cf. 14:23-24). This isn’t stuff that some human being came up with. This is the way to life. This is the way home. If we choose not to obey Jesus’ teaching, if we choose to reject Jesus, then we have rejected no less than God himself. We obey what we love; we demonstrate what we love by the way we live. “Our patterns of obedience reveal what we really love” (cf. Whitacre 362-363).

Now, in fairness, I haven’t worked Barnabas into a sermon lately, so I’m overdue. For those who don’t know, Barnabas is our cocker spaniel who came to live in our home a little over a year ago. We got him when he was about eight weeks old, so he doesn’t really remember any other home. And he was welcomed into our home without reservation and with great love. But as you know, dogs tend to connect with their family, and they really tend to latch onto one person as their human. Two dogs ago, Gideon chose Cathy (which really wasn’t fair because we got him a day before I left for a week, so I never really had a chance, but I’m not bitter) and our previous dog, Hershey, was very much attached to Rachel; they sort of grew up together. All of the dogs we had while I was growing up always seemed to connect with my dad, so for 54 years, I’ve always been number two or three or more with our dogs. But not with Barney. Barney chose me; he has impeccable taste in human beings, I must say. And that really was just bragging on my part—but here’s the point: Barney shows his love for me through obedience. When he does something he’s not supposed to do, he knows it and he will go hide or hang his head. But when my will and his actions are in sync, he basks in it—and usually asks for a treat! Just like Barney, we demonstrate our love for Jesus and our “in Christ-ness” by doing the things he told us to do. “Anyone who loves me,” he said, “will obey my teaching” (14:23).

Anyone who loves Jesus…will obey his teaching. To love God and love others. Or we might say it this way: to love God by loving others. And I’ve got bad news for a lot of people today, but “loving someone” doesn’t mean you agree with everything they say or approve of everything they do. Though you’d be hard pressed to prove it today, it is possible to disagree with someone and still love each other. In fact, we have to. We’re “all one whether you like it or not and whether you like one another or not” (Stanley, Not In It to Win It, pg. xx). Jesus didn’t say love looks like approval or agreement. He said love looks like giving a hungry person something to eat. It looks like giving someone who is thirsty something to drink. It looks like seeing a stranger and inviting them in, like giving a naked person some clothing, like looking after a sick person and visiting the person who is prison (cf. Matthew 25:31-46). It looks like this: “Whatever you did for one of the least these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). Those who love Jesus will serve and care for others, following the example he set before them earlier in the evening (13:15). Jesus’ half-brother James summed it up this way: “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world” (James 1:27). All the words in the world don’t mean anything if they are not backed up by our lives. We make the Christian faith so complicated, but it’s really simple, according to Jesus. If you love him, you’ll do what he taught.

There’s a common theme running through these teachings we’ve been looking at during Lent, in case you haven’t noticed. Jesus is calling the disciples to action. I think he knows the temptation for these eleven men, and for all those who would follow, is to get comfortable. To become cushion Christians, or in our generation, couch Christians. For these eleven in the next few hours, the temptation will be to go into hiding and stay there, to get out of town and head for the hills when it starts to get hard. The temptation for us, especially in a comfortable culture, is to sit on the sidelines and just wait for heaven. Jesus also knows that if that’s what his followers do, if we just wait it out until either we die or he returns, then the world will never know the love he has for it, for all the people. Jesus did not come so we could just relax and bask in our personal salvation. Jesus did not die on the cross so we could spend the rest of our lives comfortable and safe. And so he keeps telling these disciples over and over again in different ways, “If you love me, you will obey my teaching. If you love me, you will love God and love others—actively. If you love me, get moving.” And what he told those first disciples, he tells us as well. “If you love me, if you are ‘in me,’ you will do what I said.”

And one other thing he told us to do, earlier this very evening. As I mentioned before, John doesn’t tell us about the dinner. I think he omits that from his gospel because by the time he’s writing his account of Jesus’ life—near the end of the first century—he knows everyone already knows about the supper. He knows because that story and obedience to that command of Jesus has become the center of the church’s worship. In the midst of the meal, Jesus gave this command: “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). “Do this.” “Remember.” Do this: take the bread and the wine and allow them to remind you of all I have said and taught and done. Allow these common elements to remind you of who I am and what I have done. And as you remember, allow these things to send you out to live obediently. Do this: the bread is his body, the wine is his blood, until the kingdom of God comes (cf. Luke 22:18). This is the family meal in our home with the Father and the Son. “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching” (14:23).

Will you pray with me as we prepare to obey Jesus by coming to his table?