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I spent ten years of my life as an immigrant in a foreign land-Georgia.
I remember the very first time I encountered a classroom full of students at Georgia Tech. For about 50 minutes, I introduced about 70 undergraduates to the fascinating world of environmental engineering. Shortly after class, as most of the students sighed with relief and headed for the exits, one student approached me. As he walked toward me, I gathered up my papers and tried to guess what intriguing scientific question he might have for me. "Professor Tiller," he said in a wonderful southern drawl, "you're not from around here, are you?"
It was a friendly question. His intent was not hostile. My accent and my mannerisms made it obvious that I was not a southerner, and he was curious. He was right. I wasn't from "around here." Having been in town less than a month at that point, I wasn't connected to that place. I was a visitor, a tourist, a sojourner, an alien. I wasn't "home."
There was a very popular TV series a few years ago whose theme song had a bit that went something like this: "What if God was one of us? ... What if God was a slob on the bus, just trying to find his way home?"
We could explore what view of God is behind that bit (God did become one of us, and he wasn't a bit confused about the way home), but right now I'm more interested in what it says about us-about our society, about our culture. We are a society of aliens, of sojourners, of tourists, of visitors. We are a society of people 'on the bus, just trying to find our way home.'
For most of their adult life, until they retired, my parents lived in the same house in the same town. I, on the other hand, have already moved a number of times during my adult life. Most people younger than me will move much more frequently in their lives than I have in mine.
How many of you have lived in the same town for more than 20 years? How many of you think that your great-grandchildren will ever live in the same town for more than 10 years? Or even 5 years?
We are a society of people 'on the bus, just trying to find our way home.'
For a people who move so much, where is home?
I grew up in the same house, with the same two parents, throughout my entire childhood. That wasn't necessarily the standard back then. These days that is pretty rare.
When my parents were married, many long years ago, the typical wedding album included pictures of the bride and groom, the bride's parents, the groom's parents, and potentially, four sets of grandparents total. For my niece's wedding last year, the groom's family alone required several pages in the wedding album-he had two sets of parents and lots and lots of grandparents. This is not unusual. This is normal.
For a people whose relationships are so fractured, where is home?
This is not a sermon longing for the good old days. When my parents were young, 'where do I belong?' was a huge question. 'To whom am I connected?' was a huge question. These questions are not new. These questions are simply becoming more and more obvious as our society changes. More and more, as our society changes, the answers to these questions-the answers we find in the world around us-are temporary at best. For many people today, it is normal and expected that family relationships will change with some frequency, job will change with some frequency, career field will change with some frequency, location will change with some frequency. Even sports teams change locations with increasing frequency.
For people whose connections change so frequently, where do they belong? Where is home?
We are a society of people 'on the bus, just trying to find our way home'-trying to find connection, trying to find a place to root our identity, trying to find a place to belong.
In these verses from chapter 14 of the Gospel of John, Jesus is talking to his followers about "home."
For three years or so, ever since that fateful day in each one of their lives when Jesus said, "Come, follow me," and they did, their home has been with Jesus. They belong to Jesus. They are connected to Jesus. Their identity is rooted in Jesus. When they are with Jesus, wherever he is, they are home.
They haven't quite realized it yet, but they are about to be homeless. Jesus speaks these words to his followers on the last night of his life on earth. These aren't his first words to them that night.
First Jesus spoke to them in actions more than in words. Matthew, Mark, and Luke tell how Jesus took bread and wine and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body given for you. This is my blood shed for you." John's Gospel tells how Jesus knelt before each of his disciples, one by one, and washed their feet and dried them with a towel.
Then Jesus spoke to them of the reality of the present moment. He told them that there was a betrayer in their midst. He told them that the rest of them would soon abandon him and scatter. He told them that he was leaving them, and that where he was going they could not follow, not yet.
That was when Peter spoke up with longing and with loyalty: "Lord, why can't I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you."
Peter couldn't imagine not being with Jesus. He belonged to Jesus. He was connected to Jesus. His identity was rooted in Jesus. When he was with Jesus, wherever Jesus was, Peter was home. No doubt, Peter was sincere. He meant every word. But sometimes sincerity is not enough. Sometimes fear overwhelms our best intentions.
That was when Jesus told Peter, "Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times!" I don't think Jesus was angry with Peter. I don't think Jesus was condemning Peter. He was just telling him the truth.
The disciples hadn't quite realized it yet, but Jesus knew -they were about to be homeless.
That's when Jesus says to them, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house there are many rooms. … I am going there to prepare a place for you. … I will come back and take you to be with me so that where I am you may be also."
There it is-the good news of God's grace. So often we fall into thinking that we find our way to heaven by our good works. The conventional wisdom of our society is that if you're basically a good person, you go to heaven.
Jesus says something different.
Let's stop there for a moment. Open your Bibles to John chapter 14 and take a look at that again with me. I want to make sure you see how this flows.
In John 13:37, Peter asks, "Lord, why can't I follow you now? I'll lay down my life for you."
In 13:38, Jesus tells Peter, "Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times!" What comes next? Not skipping anything, in the next verse, in the very next breath, Jesus looks at his disciples and says, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me. I go to prepare a place for you…"
"Peter, I know you mean well, but you're going to blow it. Do not let your heart be troubled. I go to prepare a place for you."
It doesn't mean that Peter's actions don't matter. It doesn't mean that the Spirit of Jesus is not going to transform Peter. The day will come when Peter will lay down his life for Jesus. But it does mean that Peter's actions are not the means by which he finds his way to be with Jesus in eternity. It does mean that Peter's best intentions are not the means by which he finds his way to be with Jesus in eternity. It does mean that Peter is going to be with Jesus in eternity because he belongs to Jesus, and Jesus is going to prepare a place for him, so that where he is Peter will be also.
Jesus never was a soft-peddler of the truth. The last night of his life he looked upon his disciples with love, but not with rose-colored glasses. He knew the amazing things that His Spirit would someday accomplish through them. He also knew just how far they would fall short of the glory of God on this day. Knowing this, Jesus tells them, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. I go to prepare a place for you."
There it is-the good news of God's grace. Jesus does not say to us, "Come to me. It isn't really as bad as you think." He says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy-burdened, and I will give you rest."
That's the good news of God's grace. Jesus knows that sometimes our fear overwhelms our best intentions. Sometimes, we need him to show us the truth of just how far we have fallen short of the glory of God. He lets us know, for he does not soft-peddle the truth. In the very next breath, however, he doesn't speak words of condemnation, he speaks words of encouragement.
It doesn't mean that your actions don't matter. It doesn't mean that the Spirit of Jesus is not going to transform you. It doesn't mean that the day won't come when you will surrender your life to the Lord in ways that you cannot even imagine now. But it does mean that your actions are not the means by which you find your way to be with Jesus in eternity. It does mean that you are going to be with Jesus in eternity because you belong to Jesus, and Jesus is going to prepare a place for you, so that where he is you will be also.
The encouragement Jesus offers is not about what we can do; the encouragement he offers is about what he will do. He does not say, "Don't worry. Here's how you can avoid this mistake." He does not say, "Don't worry. You'll make it up to me later." He says, "Don't worry. I go to prepare a place for you, and I will come back and I will take you to be with me, and we will be together."
Jesus spoke to his followers about their impending homelessness. And in the very next breath-even before he tells them about the Holy Spirit coming to be with them-he promises them that he will bring them home.
On the last night of his life on earth, Jesus makes a promise to his followers about heaven.
There's a criticism out there of Christians who talk about heaven and preachers who preach about heaven. It goes something like this: All this talk of heaven is just pie-in-the-sky. It's just a way of distracting people from the real problems in their own life and in this world. It's just a way of making people passive in the face of the injustice in this world or their own circumstances.
Jesus didn't make this promise to his followers about heaven on his last night of life on earth so that they could be distracted from the real problems in their own life or in the world around them. Jesus didn't make this promise to his followers about heaven on his last night of life on earth so that they could be passive in the face of the injustice and brokenness in this world.
Take another look at your Bible. Chapter 14 of the Gospel according to John begins with this promise. Jesus keeps on talking. He talks to his followers all through chapter 14. He talks to his followers all through chapter 15. He talks to his followers all through chapter 16. He prays for himself and for his followers all through chapter 17.
On the last night of his life on earth, Jesus was equipping his followers - as he'd been doing throughout his ministry - to continue his ministry on earth when he was no longer with them in the body. He wasn't preparing them to sit back passively and wait to die so they could be with him again. He was preparing them to go out and bear fruit-fruit that would last. He wasn't preparing them to ignore the world in which they were aliens and travelers and sojourners. He was preparing them to be salt and light in a world full of need.
Jesus didn't give his followers this promise of heaven so that they could run from the pain and injustice of this world. Jesus gave his followers this promise of heaven so that they could find strength to endure the pain and injustice, to bear witness to his love, and to be ministers of his healing and reconciliation.
Let's think again about how that flows. "There is a betrayer in our midst. You're all going to run away. Peter, you are going to deny me three times. I know you mean well, but you are going to fall short of your best intentions. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me. I go to prepare a place for you. And I will come back and take you to be with me." Then Jesus goes on from there. That isn't even how he ends the teaching for the night. That's how he leads into it.
Steven Curtis Chapman has a song called "Not Home Yet." (Steven Curtis Chapman, 1997 Sparrow Songs/Peach Hill Songs/BMI/.) Part of it goes like this: "To all the travelers, pilgrims longing for a home, ... we must remember this: We are not home yet. … Keep on looking ahead. Let your heart not forget. We are not home yet." Another part of the song invites us to close our eyes and hear the Father saying 'welcome home.'
Jesus promised that he was going to prepare a place for those who belong to him. He will come and take us to be with him, and then we will be home. In that promise we find strength to live and to love. We are not home yet.
Listen to this story about my Mom and Dad.
It was back when I lived in Baltimore. For their very first trip to visit me, I gave my Mom and Dad very detailed directions to my house. They were unfamiliar with Baltimore, so I gave them directions that were easy to follow-not the most direct route, but the easiest route, the route that would work even if you didn't know the area. Now, my parents are independent thinkers, so, of course, they did not follow my directions. They looked at the map, concluded that my directions were unnecessarily round-about, and decided that they would take a more direct route through the heart of the city. Before long they were completely lost in the very worst section of Baltimore. They saw a young man on a street corner, so they asked directions. The man was as kind as can be. He tried to explain to my parents how to get from where they were to my house. They didn't get it. He found a road map and tried to show them how to get from where they were to my house. They still didn't get it. Finally, when all his attempts at explanation failed, he gently suggested that my dad move over. He hopped into the driver's seat and drove my parents all the way across town to my house.
Look at John 14 one more time. "In my Father's house there are many rooms. I am going there to prepare a place for you. I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am." What a promise. Jesus doesn't just say "I go to prepare a place for you. Can't wait till you get there." He doesn't just write out instructions and say, "Follow the directions." He doesn't just give us a map (though he does give us a map and directions-the Bible). Jesus says, "Move over. I'll drive." He takes us home. What a promise! Thank you, Jesus!
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