To Be the Church

'When the day of Pentecost had come, the disciples were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, "Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs-- in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power." All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, "What does this mean?" But others sneered and said, "They are filled with new wine."

But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, "Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o'clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:

`In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist. The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord's great and glorious day. Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.' "'

--Acts 2: 1-21

Happy Birthday, Church! This past Sunday we celebrated the solemnity of the Day of Pentecost, which is regarded as the birthday of the Church – big C – when the Holy Spirit blew through a little apartment in Jerusalem and set a group of misfits’ hearts on fire to go out into the streets and tell the story; a story of hope, of mercy, of love, of redemption, of grace – the story of God’s salvific work in the world, how God’s very self was made known to the world in Jesus of Nazareth, and how, even in that moment, the words of the prophet Joel were being fulfilled, as the Spirit of the Lord was, right then and there, coming upon them. What a day! 

Mosaic of the Day of Pentecost

Pentecost was already a day of great significance. It was, and still is, called Shavout – the Festival of Weeks – and it is called that because it takes place eight weeks after the Passover. It celebrates the giving of the Law to Moses on Mount Sinai and is also a thanksgiving for a successful spring harvest. Along with Passover and the Festival of Booths, it is a mandatory high holy day that all Jewish folks are meant to celebrate, which meant coming to the Temple in Jerusalem prior to its destruction in 70 AD. 

So, the scene is set. God’s timing is perfect, with all these folks already gathered together from a wide variety of places in the known world – well, known to those folks, at least. A miracle occurs when that band of misfits who just had to say goodbye to Jesus for a second time go out into those Jerusalem streets, and as they speak the common language – most likely Aramaic – these tourists and pilgrims hear them in their own language. This isn’t speaking in tongues, mind you, but a wild moment in which God seems to erase the language barrier that God had originally set up way, way back in the Book of Genesis when humanity tried building a tower into the heavens to “make a name for themselves,” and God got somewhat peeved and destroyed the tower, scattering the people, and confusing and confounding them by making them speak different languages. And with this moment, this bold preaching by the apostles, and the ability of those gathered to hear what they needed to hear in the language they needed to hear it, the Church is born. 

But what do we even mean when we say that? It ain’t a church with any kind of structure, that’s for sure. There’s no building. There’s no pastor, no hierarchy of any kind. All of those things will come later, and all of those things have their place and are important, but what is born on this day is what Saint Paul will call the ecclesia, which is a gathering, an assembly, of people. And they are gathered, they are assembled, not to debate how any angels can dance on the head of a pin, but to continue the work that the one they recognized as both Savior and God – Jesus of Nazareth – had begun. The ecclesia held no private property or goods. They cared for each person as they needed – so the poorest among them received more, while the rich received less. They made sure the folks who were too often abandoned by the secular authorities – widows, orphans, people suffering from incurable diseases – were cared for. They got together to pray, to tell stories about Jesus and how they were seeing him still alive in the world. They broke bread and sang songs, and no matter what positions they held in the secular world, around that table they were brothers and sisters, bound by the love of Jesus, and inspired by the Holy Spirit. That’s what was born on Pentecost. 

And the birthing agent on that day was the Holy Spirit, the one Jesus had called the paraclete, the comforter, the advocate, the person of God who had moved over the waters of creation, been breathed into the nostrils of the the first human being, brought dry bones together in the days of the prophet Ezekiel, and had come upon Jesus in the form of a dove when he was baptized. We profess this quality of the Spirit each week in our Nicene Creed when we say we believe in the Holy Spirit, “the Lord, the giver of life.” Yet the Spirit is not just the giver of life, as in when the Church was born on Pentecost, she is the enlivener and beautifier of creation every single day. What happened on that day wasn’t necessarily a new life entirely or some kind of discontinuity with what had come in preceding years – after all, the Spirit had shown up before in all those examples I just mentioned – but rather, her arrival in this fashion was more of a renewal of a “newness of life,” as we say. Pentecost may be the birth of the Church, but it’s also a re-birth for the world, and despite what we may tell ourselves, those two are inextricably linked. No matter how much we may not want to bring the world into our churches or vice versa, they are forever embedded one to another because of the presence of the Holy Spirit.

This makes all of us…wait for it….Pentecostals! The movement that we regard as the modern Pentecostal Church began in the early 20th century and was characterized by what folks called a baptism of the Holy Spirit. The water, they said, wasn’t enough, you had to have a rebirth of the heart. How would you know this? Well, there were signs like speaking in tongues or taking up serpents without them killing you – and yes, they pointed to the words of Jesus himself in the added, longer version of the ending of Mark’s Gospel as proof of this. In doing so, they believed that the they were reviving the church that was born on that day of Pentecost because in the years after the Church would lay down the cross, would become too politicized and influenced by the world, and so Christians needed to get back to what was the “real church.” These methods may seem strange to us – and to be fair, not all Pentecostals take up snakes – but there is something commendable that they understood then and still do today: that the Holy Spirit is alive, every bit now as on that day. The Holy Spirit is still moving and speaking and calling the Church into holiness, into the image of Jesus for a broken, hurting, fearful world. I’ve had the honor over the years to worship in solidarity and community with several of our Pentecostal congregations in Randolph County, most of whom are predominantly Black. Every time I’m with them I feel the Spirit, and I leave more ready, more eager to be part of the ecclesia of Jesus in whatever ways Jesus needs me and the Spirit leads me.

When Jesus breathed on his apostles and told them to receive the Spirit, he was commissioning them for the work that was to come. He knew that such work would be hard, but the promise he made then to them and makes still to us is that the work is never done in isolation or alone. Church, we don’t do any of this for ourselves or by ourselves. We do it with and for each other, the people outside these walls, and most importantly, Jesus. Without Jesus we have no message, no power, no strength, no enlightenment, no hope. With Jesus, we have everything we need. With the Spirit breathing into us and blowing through us and setting our hearts ablaze, we are given exactly what we need for the work of ministry, to do what the apostles did before us, to go into the world proclaiming Christ’s message of liberation and love and rejoicing in the power of the Spirit, come what may. This is what it means to be Pentecostal, to be the Church. 

Pentecost 2023 at Good Shepherd, Asheboro

A Lesson in Delayed Gratification: Between the Ascension & Pentecost

'When the apostles had come together, they asked Jesus, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day’s journey away. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.'

--Acts 1: 6-14

At the intersection of 10th Avenue and 20th Street in New York City is the Church of the Guardian Angel. All along the edge of the roof are friezes narrating various scenes in the Bible.  When you reach the end of the Gospels you see the faces of the apostles looking upward, and then all you see at the top are a pair of feet dangling there.  It’s totally adorable! 

An icon of the Ascension, not unlike the frieze at Guardian Angel Church

In our reading for this week we hear the very beginning of the Acts of the Apostles, which is a slightly different retelling of the end of the Gospel of Luke – the two texts being written by the same author. The moment depicted in this reading, and in that frieze on the edge of the roof of Guardian Angel Church, is the Ascension, the moment when Jesus left this earthly plain and returned to the presence of God, which as Jesus says in the Gospel of John, he was in before the world even existed (John 17: 5). The Feast of the Ascension always falls on a Thursday, 40 days after Easter Sunday. We often mark it at our Wednesday Healing Eucharist, as we did this week, but the Church also includes the story from Acts on the final Sunday of Eastertide so that those of us unable to make midweek worship services could still commemorate the solemnity of the feast.

This is a bit of a weird time if we think about it liturgically and theologically. The Ascension has happened but Pentecost hasn’t yet. We’re in a liminal time. The in-between time. Jesus’ earthly ministry has ended, but the Holy Spirit hasn’t yet moved the apostles to proclaim the Good News themselves because, frankly, they’re not ready to receive yet. We know that they will; after all, we wouldn’t be showing up to our churches on Sundays, nor would I be doing this blog, if the Holy Spirit hadn’t shown up on that day of Pentecost, but the wonderful thing about being a church rooted in liturgical tradition and the various seasons and observances of the ecclesiastical year, is that, despite knowing what’s coming next week, we are invited and encouraged to just sit with where we are now. Think back to Holy Week, to the invitation from each of the days of the Paschal Triduum to just sit and be present in the moment. Sure, we knew the Resurrection was coming, but to just be present and feel the feels of each day and value them for what they were – washing feet and stripping the altar, praying at the foot of the cross, sitting in the darkness moments before Easter’s dawn – that was some powerful stuff because those moments helped us remember that where we are now still holds as much value as where we will be. The truth is that we too often have our minds fixed on what is on the horizon, rather than the present moment. And this week is no different. During this liminal period – between the Ascension and Pentecost – what would it mean for us to ponder the apostles’ thoughts and feelings? And our own?

Picture the scene: the eleven standing with Jesus as he’s talking on the Mount of Olives, and then suddenly there he goes. And they’re just…standing there. Mouths gaped open. What now?! It takes two men in white – they always wear white, don’t they? – to tell them to stop standing there, watching Jesus’ feet go into the clouds, and go back into the city. Go back into the messiness, the political and religious volatility from which they’d hoped Jesus would save them. Can you imagine what that walk back into the city and that little apartment must’ve been like? “What was THAT?!” “Who were THEY?!” “So….is that it?!” “Anybody write that down?!” “What did he say again?!” A lot of confusion. A lot of fear. A lot of uncertainty about what was to come.  Who could blame them for just wanting to stay on that mount, staring up into heaven? C’mon, Jesus! Come on back. The world is scary and cruel. We can’t do it alone. 

The world isn’t THAT much different now from then. I see church signs and billboards crying out for Jesus to come back. Yet while this sentiment is understandable, it’s entirely spiritually immature. Jesus’ leaving was the necessary preliminary for all future progress in humanity’s spiritual life, so that – the apostles first, and then the rest of us – would stop holding on to Jesus’ physical, external presence, and find his presence and strength inside themselves. His Ascension, then, was the blessing that allowed them to receive the Spirit, painful though the separation might have been. 

And while we know that the Holy Spirit will come next Sunday – and with her the “Acts of the Apostles” can truly begin – this in-between time of waiting must have been hard. So, in it we actually have a divine lesson in delayed gratification. It’s one of the first lessons we learn as children – you can’t always get what you want when you want it. Do you remember what that was like? If not, do you remember watching your kids when they didn’t get what they wanted when they wanted it? I barely remember the time my grandparents took me to Disney World when I was five, but I’m told that I was asking if we were there yet before we were out of their hometown of Bristol, let alone the state of Virginia. They say patience is a virtue, but it has never been mine! Yet that is the gift God gave the apostles before the greater gift of the Spirit’s coming amongst them: the patience to wait, to listen, to feel the discomfort of the liminal time, and to just be, wherever they were, wherever we are. It is so very often in these moments God is most stirring, even if we don’t notice. 

The world is often in a hurry and wants everyone to be in a hurry. We do it with deadlines that are set for us or tasks that demand our efforts. We do it with the Jesus, too. Hurry up and get here already and fix this! But like the apostles, we are called to stop looking up into heaven, to return to our places of liminality, the places of stillness and quiet, and to wait patiently for the Spirit to show up and do her thing. 

The Comforter

'Jesus said, ”If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees her nor knows her. You know him, because she abides with you, and she will be in you.

”I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”'

--John 14: 15-21

A couple of years ago, not long after my cancer diagnosis, my dear Aunt Meredith sent us in the mail a down comforter. But this was no ordinary down comforter, no, this was the comforter that belonged to my grandmother, my Mimi. I remembered this comforter as the one my sister enveloped herself in when she came down with chicken pox, and the fluffiest, most comfortable blanket there ever could be. It has provided warmth and contentment to so many in our family, including my Mimi in her final days, and Aunt Mere thought we should have it, that we might be comforted by it, too. And we were, and then some! We took to calling it the Poof, and boy howdy, did it make a difference. There were magical healing powers in that comforter, Kristen said. Somehow, whoever was wrapped in it – me, Kristen, Casey even – felt better, more secure. We felt held, by the love of our ancestors, and by God. The Poof is the platonic ideal of “comforter.”

My Mimi's Poof, providing comfort to Casey and me during my cancer and transplant recovery.

Alright, well, down comforter, anyway. Jesus promises his apostles in our reading from the 14th chapter of John this week, that once he has gone away, God will provide for them a comforter. Not a blanket, obviously, but one who will give healing, security, maybe even a fluffy, poof-like feeling to those who receive. The word Jesus uses is Parachlete, which our New Revised Standard Version translates as Advocate. But this is a word that doesn’t really have a direct English counterpart, so various translations over time have called it something different: the New International Version says Counselor; the Common English Bible says Helper; the Message says Friend; and the tried and true King James Version translates Parahclete as Comforter. Many of you may be more familiar with that word, especially if you attended an Episcopal church prior to 1976 and did Morning Prayer most Sundays and said or sang the Te Deum. You may remember the line in that ancient prayer about “the Holy Ghost, the Comforter.” This is the Spirit of Truth, the Spirit of the Living God, the Spirit of Love. The Third Person of the Trinity. Whatever word we use.

This is the promise Jesus makes to his apostles in the hours before his death, that even after he is gone they will not be left orphaned. In those days disciples of a rabbi or any other teacher were often called orphans whenever their teacher died, since they were left without any guidance or tutelage. Jesus promises that this will not be the case for those who follow him. The Parachlete – the Advocate, the Comforter, the Holy Spirit – will come and lead them and guide them and show them how to love as Jesus has loved, how to boldly proclaim God’s goodness and mercy to a broken and hurting world the way Jesus did, how to have hope when all hope seems lost. 

The Parachlete will, indeed come on the Day of Pentecost, and set those same apostles’ hearts on fire to go into the world, to push through their fear. How can they do this? Because of love. Because, as Jesus says, not only will those who love him keep his commandments, but he will love them too. He will keep loving them, even after he’s gone, through the Parachlete, who will comfort them and advocate for them and be the voice of God speaking to and through them. This is how the world will know Jesus is still alive. This is how we still know Jesus is alive, through the power of love that is poured out in the actions of the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. 

The world doesn't know Jesus through proselytizing. Those who have no use for the Bible will not know Jesus through quotes from Scripture because, what’s the point? Saint Paul understood this, as is illustrated from this week's reading from the Acts of the Apostles in which we see what happened when the Spirit led him to preach to the people of Athens:

'Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, “Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, ‘To an unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. From one ancestor he made all nations to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us. For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said,

‘For we too are his offspring.’

Since we are God’s offspring, we ought not to think that the deity is like gold, or silver, or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of mortals. While God has overlooked the times of human ignorance, now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed, and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.”'

--Acts 17: 22-31

Paul doesn't try to convince the Athenians that they’ve been wrong all this time and that he has all the answers. He doesn’t quote the Scriptures to prove his point because they don’t care.  He doesn’t take an anti-intellectual stance and decry philosophy as the devil’s favorite subject. He acknowledges right out of the gate that they are a religious people; in fact, religion was so much a part of Greek daily life that it was something they took for granted.  He relates to them and commends them for their sense of devotion. Greeks were deeply religious, but not exactly spiritual. The gods didn’t really care about humanity, so why care about them? Still, they have an altar even to a so-called “unknown god.” What they call unknown, Paul says, has actually been made known. Such a god loves all created things – Paul even quotes the poet Aratus of Soli who coined the phrase “we are all his children” in his work entitled Phenomena. This is the one whom Paul proclaims, without ever even using Jesus’ name. He’s not concerned with winning an argument but by simply letting people know the truth that he knows, which is that we are all united one to another in this God, through the Parachlete, the Advocate, the Comforter, the Spirit of the Living God that fell afresh on the world and became, what Paul Tillich called, the Ground of All Being.

This is the scandal of the Parachlete’s presence in the world because she cuts through the jargon of the dominant doctrines and disciples of the day, both civil and theological. She calls to us to get out of the world’s way of thinking – which is usually binary and absolute – and into God’s way of thinking – which is ever-moving like the wind and grounded in love. Even among Christians it is hard sometimes to pay attention to what the Parachlete is doing. How can the Spirit help fix the problem of attendance not being what it once was or figuring out where money is gonna come from for roof repair? And what about the people on the other side of the street, preaching something different from us, what would the Spirit REALLY have us do about them because we gotta respond and do SOMETHING, right? Does the Spirit want us to be more spiritual or more religious?  Thinkers or doers? Does any of this sound like it comes from a place of love? Do any of these attitudes meet people where they are and open us up to receive and listen to the Spirit?  Maybe the next time we are faced with those fears we can pause and invoke the Parachlete and acknowledge that presence, that Spirit of God; after all, there’s nowhere we can hide from her. When we acknowledge that her we are less reactive, less defensive, and more mindful, more kind. Our Eucharistic Prayer D calls the Holy Spirit “Christ’s own first gift for those who believe.” We dare not squander such a gift.

Is it an Advocate that you need right now? A Counselor? A Helper? A Friend? A Comforter? The Parachelete, the Holy Ghost, the Holy Spirit, is all of these and so much more. She is the presence of God that reminds us that we are not alone. She is the voice of God that encourages us to move forward when we think we can’t. She gives us hope when the world seems hopeless. She is the ground on which we stand when we dare to love and the wind that blows and tickles our ear when we dare to be curious. She doesn’t have magical powers, like my Mimi’s Poof. But her presence with us is evidence alone that we are all God’s children, as Aratus said first and Paul echoed. Because she is in the world, we are invited to ask each day, each moment, what is the Spirit up to? How am I, how are we, being called to love more deeply, to see the living Christ more clearly? Parachelete of the living God, fall afresh on us. 

An Honest Misunderstanding

'Jesus said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. 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, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.”'

--John 14: 1-14

Twelfth century mosaic of the apostles Thomas (left) and Phillip.

A long time ago I heard someone describe prayer as a time when we can be totally honest with God. That made sense to me. So I’d find myself throughout the day just talking out loud to God, being honest with whatever was going on in my life. “To be honest, God, I really want this job… …To be To be honest, God, I really need to pass this test honest, God, I can’t understand why you let me get into this mess.” All that seemed fine, so long as God didn’t talk back. Because whenever I applied that kind of total honesty to actual interactions with other people…it didn’t go well. “I’m just being honest,” wasn’t a viable excuse for times when my bluntness came off as arrogance or frustration.

How often have you had that happen to you? When have you come at someone with a genuine, honest desire, only for it to be rebuked, or at the very least not heard the way that you wanted? 

This is why I can relate to the apostles, and especially this week to Thomas and Phillip. These two speak to Jesus from a place of total honesty. We find Jesus today giving his last great teaching to the apostles, what we call the Farewell Discourse. He has just washed their feet, Judas has left the group abruptly, and Jesus is just a couple hours away from being arrested in Gethsemane. He’s trying to impart one final lesson to this group, and while he’s in the middle of making his point, Thomas and Phillip let their frustrations show. 

Paraphrasing here: "You say we know the way, Jesus, but we don’t. We have no idea where you’re going or how to get there. You talk about seeing the Father, well, if we have met the one you call Father, then tell us where and when? We don’t know what you’re talking about!" Hey, they’re just being honest. 

Let me ask y’all something. If someone hit you up with that kind of blunt honesty, how do you think you’d react? Parents, what if your kids did that – or maybe they have! Teachers, what if a student blurted out in frustration that they didn’t know what you were talking about? How do you think you’d respond if you were in that influential, authoritative position? Maybe you would respond with a lot of patience and reassurance. Or maybe not! Maybe you’d hit those frustrations with some of your own. I’ve been there…on both sides.

Yet once again Jesus does not respond from a place of ego, a place of frustration and fed-upness – although, if we’re honest, who would blame him after all the times the apostles miss the mark and don’t understand where he’s coming from. Still, Jesus accepts their misunderstanding. He doesn’t judge them for what they know or don’t know. He meets them in a manner that the world can’t. He does it for them, and he still does it for us, and he gives us an example that we can follow. 

Jesus does not lean on our understanding, but rather he invites us to lean on his. It isn’t our trust that will save us in the end, but his trust, not our ability to have faith, but his own faithfulness in us – great is thy faithfulness, remember? Even in the times when we just don’t get it, even when we are so frustrated and come at Jesus with our own brutal, blunt honesty, even when anyone else in his position would knock us down a peg or say, “Who do you think you are?!” he holds it all. That’s how big Jesus is. Big enough to take all of our questions, all of our frustrations, all of the subtle frailties of our human nature that over time would wear someone else down. That is some good news right there! It’s what sustained the community of John’s Gospel in days of confusion and fear, and even for us now it is a balm in the moments when we don’t know what to do, where to go, who to be, or how to understand and trust Jesus. 

We are not abandoned to figure things out on our own. We have a friend and Savior who is committed to walking with us, loving us, and even dealing with our most brutally honest moments until the day when all manner of things are made well and revealed to us. In the gap between doubt and faith, confusion and trust, stands Jesus, believing in us as long as it takes for us to believe in him. 

Thomas Merton once said in a prayer to God, “I don’t know what I’m doing or where I'm going, but I believe that the desire to please you does, in fact, please you.” The apostles didn’t understand where Jesus was going or how to follow him – and if they, who traveled and lived with him each day for roughly three years couldn’t figure it out, what chance do we have? But that’s the point. We get glimpses, fragments on this side of the Kingdom. Even Saint Paul understood this when he said that we see through a glass dimly right now. And rather than grow frustrated, we can lean into the moments of not knowing. We can be brutally honest with Jesus, yes, and also accept that Jesus’ response might not be in any manner what we were looking for. We don’t have to live with the fear of not knowing. Because Jesus is the Way, even when we don’t know what the way ahead looks like. Jesus is the Truth, even when we don’t know what is true or not anymore. And Jesus is the life, even when we don’t know what real, authentic life means. Our small bucket of faith may not be able to hold much, as Kayla McClurg of the Church of the Savior wrote, but Jesus can take even that and make the impossible a reality.

Maybe you’re like Thomas and utterly confused by what Jesus is doing in your life. Or like Phillip and demanding answers from Jesus to help you figure things out. Maybe all you have is the honest desires of a tired and worn out heart. The good news, the Gospel, is that Jesus will meet you, with whatever you’re holding, and you can give it all to him, and by doing so, you will find your way, your truth, and your life.