Pentecost: Fire, Water, and Spirit - John 7: 37-39

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Today is Pentecost Sunday. We think of Pentecost, and we think what we read from Acts: the disciples in the upper room, the tongues of fire, the sound of the rushing wind, the large crowd, Peter’s great preaching, the speaking in tongues, and the conversion of 5000 souls to faith in Christ as Savior. It’s a story we know, a story we love, a story that ignites the imagination of what it may have been like to experience such an event and witness an incredible coming to faith by the power of Jesus at work in the preached Word. That IS Pentecost.

But then you have this brief reading from St. John where instead of fire and wind and language and conversion, there is water. Jesus cries out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scriptures have said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” Now, that’s a different picture for us to consider this Pentecost. What is He talking about? What does living water have to do with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit? What does that have to do with Pentecost?

Pentecost was the final day of the Festival of Booths. The Festival was similar to our modern, American Thanksgiving day, but stretched out over seven days. The Festival of Booths, or sukkoth in Hebrew, was a time to give thanks and remember God’s providential care of Israel. The harvest would be complete, so part of the Festival was thanksgiving for God’s providing through the crops gathered in. But, more than just a harvest celebration, it was also a time of remembrance. Each family was to live in a tent as a symbol of the tents they used in the wilderness. During the Festival, Israel retold the stories of how God cared for their ancestors in the wilderness wanderings and how He led them to the Promised Land of Milk and Honey. Water was a big part of the festival. In remembering the Exodus, they remembered how God provided water at Mamre, at Massah and Meribah, just as they were on the verge of dying from dehydration. As we know, water is hugely important in an agrarian community. They thanked God for the rains over the past growing season and also was a way of imploring God to send rains for the next harvest to come.

On the final day of sukkoth, there would be a procession in the city of Jerusalem from the pool of Siloam up to the Temple. Priests would dip a pitcher of water from the pool and pour it into one of the sacred vessels used that day for sacrifice. Prayers were offered for forgiveness of their past idolatry, rejoicing for the return of Israel to the promised land, a pledge of a new obedience to God, and for the continued protection of the Lord over the security of Jerusalem. But, chief, was the hope for the restoration of Israel under the Messianic King to come. The ceremonial water-rites made past-to-future connections of God’s action of creation, separating the waters above and below, with providing water in the Exodus, His continued providence, and the prophetic pledge of water to flow from the temple when Messiah would arrive. The Temple and its waters will become the source of the paradise to come and the center of the New Israel. “On that day,” Zechariah wrote, “on that day there shall be a fountain opened for the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem to cleanse them from sin and uncleanness,” (13: 1). He was looking ahead to a great, Messianic arrival when he added that the living waters of the Temple “will flow from Jerusalem, half of them to the eastern sea and half to the western sea,” (14:8).

So, when Jesus speaks, He is connecting Himself to the God of creation. He is in the Temple, and He is drawing a connection of Himself with the waters poured out in the Temple rites. And He is also identifying Himself as the very Messiah that the Feast is proclaiming, the provider of the very redemptive waters that Israel is yearning for.  All of the springs, all of the fountains, all of the rocks from which water flowed, both while Israel was wandering in the desert and after they entered the Promised Land, all of the waters were foreshadowing Jesus and His own lifegiving, redemptive work. His plea for hearers to come to Him and for the thirsty to drink was if He was saying, if you drink from the pool of Siloam this year, you’ll have to do it again and again and again. But I give water that gives life, now and into eternity. Stop doubting; stop waiting; come and drink.

Zechariah, seven hundred years earlier, before the birth of Jesus, pointed ahead to an even greater fountain that would come flow, giving life beyond measure. That Fount of Life will appear about a year after Jesus speaks these words: “when one of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, at once blood and water came out.” Zechariah proclaimed that living waters would come from Jerusalem, and John helps us see that those living waters, mixed with the blood of Jesus, came from His side on the cross. The conclusion is simple: Jesus Christ, crucified, is the new Jerusalem; Jesus Christ, crucified, is the new Temple; Jesus Christ, crucified, is Messiah who rescues and redeems His people with blood and water.

So, what does a Jewish celebration of harvest thanksgiving and exodus remembrance have to do with the disciples in Acts 2, or with us for that matter? Glad you asked.

John notes that this outflowing of living water has to do with the Holy Spirit, but “as yet, the Spirit had not been given because Jesus was not yet glorified.” The Spirit and the cross go together. The Spirit can only be delivered through Jesus glorification on the cross. Jesus hands over His Spirit when He is glorified in His death. In other words, the gift of the Spirit comes only through and with the living death of the Lamb of God. There is water, and there is blood, and there is death, and there is life, and there is Spirit.

People often think of Pentecost as the Holy Spirit stepping up to the plate, making His presence known, and being the star of the show. As part of the Triune Godhead, the Spirit of God has always been present. Next week we’ll confess in the Athanasian Creed, the Father is God, the Son is God, the Holy Spirit is God, yet they are not three gods but one God. If you try to shine the spotlight on the Holy Spirit, the remarkable thing is He instead reflects the light of Christ. The Spirit leads you back to the cross. The Spirit is given and comes only through the means of the cross. Where the cross is, there is the life-giving Spirit; where the life-giving Spirit is, there is the cross. The life given by the Spirit is the life of the cross. The life guided by the Spirit is life under the cross. The life lived in the Spirit is the baptized life, marked with the sign of the cross. And, now, we are back to water.

And, in the Church, where there is water, there is blood, and where there is water, there is death and life, and there is Spirit. And when water is combined with the word of God, the Spirit of God moves in, with and under the waters as He did in creation, creating Life in Christ, washing away sins, uniting together the faithful under the headship of Christ as one body of believers. Jesus said, “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’.” You leave here today refreshed by that same living water that has been poured out for you and on you. That faith, instilled in you by God’s grace, that trusts solely in the work of Jesus at the cross, that faith flows from you to those around you in what you say and in what you do. God uses you in your vocation, and from you flows living water. You speak of Jesus, you proclaim that sins have been forgiven by His death, you say He is risen – risen, indeed! – and that gives you Hope (!) in these grey and latter days. You proclaim that victory has already been assured in Christ and that nothing can separate you from His love.

And in that moment, Pentecost continues: not with fire and wind and unknown languages being spoken, but with the forgiveness of sins, won at the cross when the Father sent the Son to die, delivered by God’s grace through faith that is enabled by the Spirit, who leads back to the cross from where flowed blood and living water.

Amen.

 

Letting Go: Reflecting on the Last High School Graduation

Letting your oldest child go, leaving home, heading off on his or her journey to study, earn, or just live, is a terribly painful moment. As a father, I don’t know what childbirth is like, first-hand, but I imagine in some ways, it is almost as painful. After all, in child birth a woman releases her child whom she cared for and nurtured in utero for nine months out into the world. When that same child reaches early adulthood, somewhere between sixteen and thirty, and the ersatz adult decides it’s time to fly the nest, that too is a parent releasing the child, whom he or she now cared for somewhere around two decades (which equates to approximately 25 pregnancies worth of time), out into the world. Again, it’s a birth of another magnitude, a full-blown earthquake compared to the rumblings that preceeded it, but it is painful in a wholly new way and level.

Now, I have experienced some parents – fathers, mostly – who blustered about how when their child left home, they had new paint on the kid’s bedroom wall before the car was even fully packed and by the time they left the driveway, the room was well on the way to becoming a full-blown “man-cave.” I call bullshit on such machismo. Either that, or the dad has an EQ (emotional quotient) of a soft-boiled egg, a n over-ripe turnip, or a fencepost where birds continuously sit and poop due to it’s proximity to the feeder. No parent can be so callous, so undetached from their offspring as to not care that the child is leaving home. Can they?

I experienced this for the first time when our oldest stepped forth from the nest, flying east in 2015 to the University of Alabama. I was not prepared for the emotional weight and heart-wrenching emotions I felt in her senior year of high school. Several dads, like those mentioned above, “consoled” me by berating, mocking, and gaslighting me until I felt like a total fool. (How effective was their criticism? Even writing that sentence almost ten years later, I feel as if I am playing the “victim” card.)  After crashing and burning, and subsequently getting professional help at the insistence of my loving wife, I finally got myself squared away.  Then, and only then, could I appreciate the wisdom of my brother-in-law, who is one of the smartest men I know, who said, “She is doing what you have reared her to be: smart, strong, and independent. You have done your job. Now, enjoy watching your work continue to grow.”

That is exactly what we have done. She graduated, got a very good job with a good company that cares for its employees, met a faithful and dedicated man (who is also a helpless and hopeless romantic, like her father, as well as a hard worker) and plans to marry soon. Our middle child also is on her own trajectory. She graduated high school the same year her sister graduated from the university. She is now a junior at the University of Houston – Victoria, studying business communication. While the trajectory hasn’t been as flat or straight as her sister’s, she has overcome many personal obstacles that her sister didn’t have to face. Again, like her sister, she is continuing to grow into a smart, strong, and more independent woman.

Now, our youngest is graduating from high school. He turned 18 last December, making all three children adults. In February, he enlisted in the United States Navy after determining that college wasn’t for him – at least, not right now. A third child with yet another, third trajectory towards adulthood. And he, too, is growing into a smarter, stronger, and more independent young man. We will be surrendering our responsibility as parents and teachers to his drill instructors and then the teachers at his training schools. They will continue the process of molding and shaping him. He will – I hope – grow even smarter and stronger, physically, mentally and emotionally. His independence will be different than his sisters, with a great deal of emphasis placed on inter-dependence, relying on shipmates to work together.

He ships out in four weeks and one day for boot camp. In just twenty nine days, we’ll hug him, kiss him, and shake his hand as a boy and send him through the doors towards manhood. He’ll go into the MEPS center to be carried to the Great Lakes Navy Recruiting Training Command where in ten weeks, the Navy will shape, fold, spin, and bend him to their purposes, turning a kid into a sailor complete with Navy regulation bell bottoms (yes, they still use bell bottoms) and the Popeye hat.

That’s what the Navy will do.

My wife and I will go home with the experience of having just birthed our son out into the world. In many ways, it will be more painful than the first birth. In other ways it will be easier. But it will hurt, regardless. I’m sure we will cry as we remember his shenanigans, and we will laugh as we think about his goofiness. Personally, as the one who has had to stick dynamite under his pillow or hook him to a tow truck to pull him out of bed, I will laugh every morning as oh-dark-thirty rolls around and I imagine him having to get up the first time, get up without complaining so the DI can hear it, get up and not use all the hot water, get up and go to the bathroom in under two minutes and get up (GASP!) without a cell phone.  

But, then I will probably catch myself wanting to holler at him to come out and play catch, or see what sounds good for dinner, or to help me pick the peaches, or ask him how his day was, or just have him tell me a story. And, in that moment, realizing he is far, far from home, I know there will be a catch in my throat and likely a tear in my eye.

The Navy may be making him into a man, but he will always be my son.

So, for twenty-nine more days, I still have my boy. For twenty-nine more days, I’m going to try to prepare him as best as I can for what is ahead. For twenty-nine more days, I’ll feed him, play catch with him, fuss at him, hug him, and soak up as much time as I can.

For twenty-eight days, I’ll let him sleep in.

But on the twenty-ninth, I’m getting him up early so I can have just a few more minutes before he goes.

Hands Held High in Ascended Glory - Luke 24: 44-53 (Ascension, transferred)

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Christ is ascended!
He is ascended, indeed! Alleluia!

This past Thursday, the Church celebrated the ascension of Jesus. If you missed it or forgot, don’t feel bad. It’s easy to miss. After all, it lands on a Thursday. We didn’t gather here for worship. Ascension doesn’t have the romance of Christmas or the punch of Easter. Yet and still, as an historical event, it happened. Biblically, Luke recorded it twice, in Luke 24 and Acts 1. The early church agreed, making sure that it was confessed in not only the Apostle’s Creed, but the Nicene and Athanasian Creeds as well. So, hear again the Ascension Gospel from Luke 24:

“Then Jesus said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” 45 Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, 46 and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, 47 and that repentance for[a] the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. 48 You are witnesses of these things. 49 And behold, I am sending the promise of my Father upon you. But stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.” 50 And he led them out as far as Bethany, and lifting up his hands he blessed them. 51 While he blessed them, he parted from them and was carried up into heaven. 52 And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, 53 and were continually in the temple blessing God.” (Luke 24: 44-53)

You’ve probably seen the various artwork of Jesus’ ascension, whether it is one of the classic works by Dali, Rembrandt, or Tissot, or a simpler picture on the front of your Sunday school lesson. Universally, the painting shows Him with His hands raised in blessing. That’s all we need on this commemoration of the ascension is to look at the hands of Jesus, raised in blessing, and we can read in them the meaning and blessing of Jesus.

These are the hands, born in infant frailty, that held close to His mother, Mary, while He nursed. These hands learned to hold a pencil and write the words of Scripture that He knew by heart when He challenged the teachers of the Law as a 12 year old. These hands held a hammer or saw or chisel while he worked with Joseph. These are hands that touched the eyes of the blind, the ears of the deaf, and the tongue of the mute. These warm hands took hold of the pale, cold, dead hands of a little girl and restored life to the girl and then restored the girl to her parents waiting outside. Read through the Gospels and pay attention to what Jesus hands did – stretching out, touching, grasping – always with personal love, personal contact, and personal attention to the person standing, sitting, lying in front of him. Those hands weren’t afraid to get dirty, to be contaminated, or to touch the unclean. The Savior of the World came to be with sinners, to rescue sinners, and to destroy sin. One by one, Jesus reached into the world of death and destruction, chaos and darkness; one by one, Jesus touched sinners; one by one, Jesus healed – never en masse, in bulk, or by volume.

These are hands that gathered the little children unto himself, holding, hugging and kissing them. These are hands that reached out, just in time, to snag a doubting and sinking Simon Peter. With these hands, he broke bread and raised the cup and said, “take and eat; take and drink.” These hands were held out for Thomas to see, to touch, and to believe.

Greatest of all, these hands were pinned to the cross by nails. The hands that had done so much for others did nothing to save Himself. Instead, those nails assured Jesus did everything to save others. Those scars, presented to Thomas the week after Easter, those hands, raised in blessing, those hands tell us what we need to know of the blessing of Jesus on Ascension day.

What does that mean for us this day? Those scars tell us that Jesus took your sins, your punishment upon Himself and went to the cross for you. That Jesus was forsaken – alone and abandoned by His disciples, His friends, and His Father in heaven – so you would not be forsaken by God but be forgiven. That because Jesus died for you and rose for you, and because you are baptized into His death and resurrection, you will be made alive as children of God. Because Jesus hands were once stretched out on the cross, they are today stretched out in blessing upon His disciples. The one who ascends and blesses carries the marks of the cross on his hands. No cross, no blessing. Cross, blessing. That is why when I speak the blessing to you, it is done so with the sign of the cross, whether it’s on your forehead or in the air. That is what Jesus means to you at the Ascension this day: life and blessing won and given.

Now… do not ever think that Jesus ascension means He has gone away. Do not think of the cloud that hid Jesus’ departure as an escalator that took Jesus “into heaven,” as if it is a location far, far away. Before Jesus ascended, He promised that He is with us wherever we might be. Could you imagine the chaos had He not ascended; had He remained physically located only in one place at one time? You can hear it, can’t you: “I’ve got Jesus, yes I do. I’ve got Jesus. Why not you?” No…because Jesus has ascended, He is able to be all places at all times. He is with us, here, right now…and with the saints of God in Walburg…and in Indiana…and Boston…and Taiwan…and Pakistan…and St. Petersburg…and anywhere else on earth (or outer space, for that matter) His children gather. He promised it. How He does it, we cannot fully fathom. And we don’t need to. He promised it, and that is enough.

With His hands held high, Jesus ascends into the cloud. This was a special cloud, I think – one which had appeared before in Scripture. We saw the cloud at the Transfiguration. We saw it in the Old Testament when the cloud was above the two angels on the ark of the covenant and when the people of God journeyed by day through the wilderness to the promised land. The cloud was the guarantee of the presence of God. So, at the Ascension, the cloud marks Jesus physically leaving behind the world of man and returning to the realm of God. Jesus is no longer with us in our ordinary way of thinking. Jesus is now present and does things in God’s way, also no longer constrained to earthly ways of doing things. He is still a man, but a resurrected, glorified and ascended man who is also fully God.  

Earlier, I said that most paintings of the ascension show Jesus rising above the disciples, rising into the air. There is a Lutheran artist in Michigan by the name of Edward Riojas who has a different take on the Ascension. In his painting, at the top of the painting, all you see of Jesus is His nail-marked feet. Behind the feet is a bright orb, as if it is the sun. Along the bottom are dozens of small people, the saints who worship the risen and ascended Jesus. Behind the orb is the green, leafy top of a tree whose trunk is made out of the cross of Christ, clearly marked with Pilate’s inscription, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” The base of the tree is firmly planted into a lush, beautiful hillside with trees in the background and a church off on the horizon. What is interesting for me, though, is sitting with his back to the tree trunk is a pastor, writing away at his sermon as pages and pages of the manuscript lay around him. It’s a powerful reminder to me that Jesus, ascended into heaven, is yet present both in the words the pastor preaches but also in the ministry the pastor provides. Through the pastor, in Word and Sacrament, Christ is present.

Jesus has not gone away. He is with us now, more powerfully than ever before. He is with us more powerfully than when the disciples saw him. He is among us. And we live, then, in the presence of our ascended and ever-present Lord. He is with us. We cannot be destroyed. Easter lives in us. Christ is risen! We are risen! He paves the way to victory for us. He leads us, giving us strength and courage for each day – whatever it might bring us – and leaving us the promise of His bodily return, soon, as well.

We are here today as the disciples were – with great joy. We’re not wringing our hands in fear – Christ is with us. We’re not tapping our fingers in worry or hurry – Christ is here. We are here with hands that make the sign of the cross, reminding us that we are baptized into Christ. We are here with that are open, ready to receive the gifts of God in His Supper. Our hands are so full of the blessings of God, if we stopped to ponder them all – if we used our hands to write them all down – we would be stunned at the good and gracious gifts God gives to us. Our hands pick up the food God gives to nourish us. Our hands open the door to our homes that give us shelter. Our hands button shirts, zip up pants, and tie shoes to clothe us. Our hands put on glasses so we can see, insert hearing aids so we can hear, open medication bottles to keep our bodies healthy and strong. Our hands are sore from working outside yesterday in the yard, our hands still sting from applauding a grandson who hit his first little-league home run. Our hands…gifts from God.

And, our Ascended Lord uses your hands, filled with His blessings, to leave this Holy House and share those blessings with others. You serve others as the hands of Christ. That means that when you reach out to shake a hurting hand, you show them Christs hands of compassion. When you change a stinky diaper, you do it with the servant-hands of Christ. When you call your parents or your kids, you dial with the hands of Christ who spoke to his mother with love.  When you buy a bottle of water from the little league team, you pay for it with the hands of Christ that summoned children to come to him. When you buy a sandwich for a man on the street-corner, your hands echo Jesus’ hands as He once fed 5000. When you fold your hands and pray with your neighbor who struggles from depression, your hands imitate Jesus’ hands who prayed for the women of Jerusalem. When you reach out and touch the sick or the dying, you share the touch of Jesus who once raised the dead. When you hold the hand of a child who has been bullied, you share the gentle touch of the Shepherd. When you touch your spouse’s cheek, you touch with the hands of the One who is Love.  In those moments, the love of Christ is present in you and through you. He has ascended, but He is still very much here.

 

Troubled Hearts Find Comfort in Jesus - John 14: 1-14

“Let not your hearts be troubled.” Pastor Adrain Baccarese, whom I knew up in deep East Texas twenty years ago, would have said, “That’ll preach, boy.” Jesus words, spoken to His disciples 2000 years ago, a group of men He sent out into the world, those words speak to you as well, today, in the year of our Lord 2023. Because if we are honest, we would have to say that hearts *are* troubled, and they are troubled mightily.  You go to the grocery store and the dollar just isn’t stretching like it used to. It’s finals time at school and late nights are taking the place of good rest, short tempers are flaring, and kids – and parents – are stressed. Grief continues to persist in ways that you never anticipated as you continue to miss loved ones whom the Lord has taken. Husbands and wives hardly talk to each other, except for “pass the salt” and “it’s your turn; I did it last time.” I had a person tell me, “My boss wants more and more from me but I am already going full-blast; what more can I give? I go home each night and cry, trying to work up the strength to go back tomorrow.” Have to…no choice. Bills to pay, food to buy, septic tank to fix. And, the job is on the line as rumors of pink slips trickle down and around the plant. Hearts beat with frustration, fear, hurt, anger, shame, guilt, and other things I cannot begin to understand as a man.

To you, hear this word of the Lord: Let not your heart be troubled. Thanks a lot, Pastor. I know what Jesus says. I don’t know that he quite understands what we’re going through here, or what life is like today.

If that’s you, pause for a moment. Take a breath and listen again to the word of the Lord: Let not your heart be troubled. Especially, I draw your attention to that word “heart.”

Jesus knows your heart. He knows you better than you know yourself. He says let not your heart be troubled.

The troubles you have are external. They come outside of you. Sometimes, satan seeds them carefully so that they do take root in your heart. All the thinking in the world does not take away that grief, that anxiety, that frustration, that guilt, all that trouble that we have in our hearts. This is where we carry the cross – in our hearts. We talk about it here, with our mouth, we think about it here, with our brain, but we carry it here, in the heart. And this is, I suspect, particularly true this time of the year for mothers and fathers who carry not only their own troubles but that of their their kids – of all ages – as well as they try to finish the school year strong and get ready for the next steps of life, be it high school, trade/technical school, college, the service, or the workforce. Are the kids ready? Have I prepared them? The world is just such a tough place right now. Will they make it?

Jesus speaks to you: I have come for you – heart and mind, body and soul – all of you as a person, I came and care for you as a whole. So also, He wants us to know God in all His Divine majesty.

It’s been a while, so let me remind you of the Nativity: Jesus’ incarnate birth through the Virgin Mary. Our God is incarnational – in (enters in); carne (flesh). Jesus enters into our human flesh to make His dwelling among us. And as God incarnate, with an incarnational heart, Jesus knows your heart and your troubles. Even if you cannot explain it, even if you do not have the words to incarnate, en-flesh, your troubles, He knows.

This is one of the oddities of our lectionary system. John 14 takes place on Maundy Thursday. Jesus is in the upper room with the disciples preparing to celebrate the Lord’s Supper. Here we are, the fifth Sunday after Easter. So, drop back about six weeks and put yourself in that upper room for a minute. Jesus has been speaking clearly and plainly that He must go to Jerusalem, be arrested, suffer and die at the hands of the Jewish leaders. And, now, Jesus and the disciples are in that very city. There was Palm Sunday; then Jesus chased the money changers out of the temple; before that, He had raised Lazarus from the dead. Hearts were beating in anger and frustration and jealousy, wanting Him dead. But the disciples hearts were greatly troubled. After all, this was their Rabbi, their teacher, their Master, their friend, and He was in grave danger. The disciples have faith, don’t misunderstand, but it is misguided faith, weak faith, a troubled faith because they can’t see Jesus and the cross as the means of rescue. They don’t understand. They only see it as an instrument of death. So their hearts beat a steady tattoo of ache, worry, fear, and angst: what’s going to happen next. Jesus, in these words of John 14, points them, and by extension, us, to the cross.

Thomas – here’s a great example for us this morning. Thomas wanted to know the “where” – where are you going? Jesus directs him to Himself: I am the way, the truth the life. And then there’s Philip – he wants to know the “who” – I want to see the Father. Jesus directs him to Himself: Know me, you know the Father. To you, the troubled-in-heart one, Jesus calls you to Himself, He who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, who has promised to prepare a place into eternity for you, dear friends, where one day you will enjoy eternal rest and reward for your faithful labor and labors on earth.

Have you ever had the experience, while shopping, or walking down the sidewalk, even in the narthex when you would and another person would meet and that awkward dance would begin trying to go past each other, each one of you moving this way at the same time, then that way at the same time. Sometimes, and it’s happened once or twice to me, where the other person kinda maneuvers the other out of the way – rude – but usually, the dance goes on until one or the other laughs and says, “You go ahead.” Now, take that same picture, but this time, it’s Jesus. He wants to encounter you, he wants to come at you – heart, mind, body and soul – and He smiles at you. He doesn’t laugh at you, but instead speaks softly and gently, firmly and lovingly. He doesn’t push you aside but instead He holds you with His nail-pierced hands and says, “Let not your heart be troubled. I have come to right the world and restore the relationship to the Father. I have come to restore peace and harmony. I have come to rescue you from the lostness and darkness and hurt and heartache and frustration and fear and whatever else troubles you. I have come for you. I know, I understand the burdens of your heart. But, friend, these are not yours to carry any longer. I carry the burden for you. Look at the cross, friend. Don’t let Satan tell you different. I am yours. You are mine. So, let not your heart be troubled, my brother, my sister.” Remember: Jesus knows us better than we know ourselves.

Grab your bulletin and open it up to the Gospel reading.  I want you to look at something. Look closely at verse 1. “Let not your hearts be troubled.” Hearts, plural. Now, that’s interesting. There are lots of plurals all through these verses – plural nouns and pronouns and verbs. But in the original Greek text, your is plural but heart is singular: Let not your (or, as we say in Texas, “all y’all’s”); let not your heart (singular, not hearts) be troubled. English teachers would critique that sentence for failure of subject and verb agreement – plural subject, singular verb. Jesus does it on purpose. Here is why that is such an important note. Remember: He’s not a grammarian; He’s a Savior.

Jesus wants you to know that, in Him, we share a common heart. Each of us have our own heart, yes, and those hearts get twitterpated (great word, right?) and flummoxed over the things that happen to us – that is natural; it’s part of being a human being, under the cross, this side of heaven.  But God’s people have a common heart among us. It is a common heart that we share together, a common heart, filled with the Holy Spirit, that reflects the incarnate One that comes to us and unites us as the body of Christ under His headship. That common heart that encourages, cares for, uplifts, and supports one another even as our hearts race from problems and troubles.

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, my dear sons and daughters in Jesus, know this: we share the common heart of Jesus. We are all part of the body of Christ. Therefore, the common heart of Jesus beats in you. United by Christ, we walk alongside each other, together, caring for each other, loving each other, supporting each other so that you know that in Christ you are never alone. Our common heart sets the Lord Jesus Christ before us, 24/7, day in and day out. With that common heart we give thanks together, grieve together, struggle together, rejoice together, love together, laugh together, weep together.

If you find yourself praying, Oh, Lord – let not my heart be troubled,” know that He both understands and answers. He has heard your cry, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me,” and He does exactly that. His heart beats alongside yours. Psalm 73 says “Whom have I in heaven but you, and there is none that I desire in earth but you. My heart and my flesh might fail, but God is my heart and my portion forever.” So today or tomorrow morning or Tuesday evening and any other time when your heart is threatened to be overwhelmed, His heart beats all the stronger. When your heart is troubled, His heart beats in peace. When your heart beats with guilt and shame, His heart beats a baptismal blessing reminding you that there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

Let not all ya’ll’s heart be troubled. It is the heart of Christ.