“In Baptism Henry put on Christ, so now in Christ may Henry be clothed in glory.”
For those who may not have heard, my dad died this week. Two years ago last June my mom died from a long and difficult battle with dementia, and we almost immediately moved dad back to Indiana and into a care facility. He never really settled, never really felt at home in this new place. He struggled with the idea that mom was gone, sometimes he seemed aware of her death, other times he wondered why she hadn’t come to see him lately. He believed right up to the end that he was only here temporarily and soon we would pack him up and let him go home again. Well, I guess he wasn’t wrong. And now he’s gone home.
At his request he’s been cremated and now resides on our mantel while we wait to gather the family in Tennessee for a remembrance and burial. We plan to go on his birthday, in the beginning of November for that final journey of his earthly remains. Which means we are postponing a service. But having led more funeral services than I can count, the words swirl though my being as we handle the details of the end of this life. In baptism Henry put on Christ. He claimed a new identity, a new relationship. He began the journey to become a disciple of Jesus.
Matthew 28:16-20 Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. 17 When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. 18 And Jesus came and said to them, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19 Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."
What we offer is not a ticket to heaven, but a new identity. And in that new identity is a new community, new relationships with Him, of course, but with His followers. We become a body, a family. But a family with open arms and a welcome mat as big as all the world. A family that has room, has love enough for even the most broken, the most suspicious, the most wounded by the harshness of a world of sin. We are who we are because we were claimed in baptism, the waters of life that made us one with Him, one of His.
In baptism Henry, and you and I, put on Christ, claimed an identity, became something new, something more. Disciples are identified as disciples. We are who we are, and we claim who we are in Christ. And we live that truth in the wider world. We live it outwardly, it’s not a secret to be kept to ourselves, but a way of being, a way of loving that puts us at risk in a world that lives by other values. But it is our joy, our duty and our hope to glorify God.
John 15:8-14 My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. 9 As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. 10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. 11 I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. 12 "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. 13 No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command you.
This is, of course, part of the larger piece called the “farewell discourse.” This is Jesus trying to give them everything they would need to go on without him as he had been with them. These verses follow the description of the vine. Jesus says “I am the vine and you are branches, abide in me.” That’s the only way to bear fruit. And if we really want to glorify God, which is what we say when we worship, then we do it by bearing fruit. But doing something. Branching out.
Jesus tells us to stay connected. To abide in Him, abide in His love. That makes a wonderful picture. Just hanging out with Jesus. Just being filled up, like a buffet table with all our favorite foods. Just being restored like a long lazy morning when you don’t have to get out of bed until you want to. Abide in My love. Like being wrapped up in loving arms and letting those arms be the buffer between our wounded hearts and the less than gentle world. Abide. Sounds nice. Let’s get some of that. So, Jesus, how do we go about this abiding thing?
“If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love.” Sounds a little more involved than just hanging out with Jesus. Sounds like another one of those doing kind of things. Keep my commandments ... and this is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. We abide in love when we love. We receive more of Christ’s sustaining love, strengthening power, transforming presence, when we sustain others with our love, when we strengthen those around us with our love, when we work for transformation in those whom we encounter. It’s kinda like saying when we set out to love like Christ loves, we can’t ever run out.
When the breathing slowed and then stopped and the room in which I sat with my dad grew silent, broken only by the burbling of the oxygen machine I knew that I was alone. I went and told the nurses at the station outside his room that he had stopped breathing. They grabbed their stethoscopes and ran to the room. They listened, shut off the machine and listened again. One looked to the other and said with tears in her eyes, you listen. So, they listened. And declared, we will miss him. He was kindness personified. He treated us like daughters, like friends, with a smile and a joke and a twinkle in his eye. And for the next few hours and then days, there was a parade of staff members, aides and nurses, cleaning staff and chaplains, all coming to say how they will miss his gentle presence and friendly attitude. He will leave a big hole, I was told, he cared about us, about the others. He cared.
That’s how it happens, this abiding thing. It is when you venture out. When you wrap the love of Christ around you and take a step into the unknown, to give of yourself, you are abiding. I know, it doesn't make sense. Abiding sounds stationary. Abiding sounds settled. But Jesus redefines abiding.
Or maybe He is just giving directions so we can find him to abide. Remember the Easter declaration? “He is not here, he is risen! And he is going before you...” You want to abide in Jesus? You have to keep moving. Because He keeps moving. He goes where the hurt is, He goes where the hunger is, He goes where the love is least so he can pour out more. And He invites us to go with Him.
And here’s the bonus. This is where joy is. This abiding on the road thing. This stepping out in love journey. This is where the joy is. “I have said these things to you,” Jesus says, “so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” Complete joy. Wow, what would that be like? We get glimpses, we get moments, we get a taste of joy from time to time, if we’re lucky. But Jesus is offering something else, something more. Complete joy.
Complete because it is shared. That is the nature of joy. Mark Twain said that “grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with.” Joy is a shared experience, rather than a solitary one. Joy is of the community, even if the community is just you and Jesus. You and one other, with whom you can share and know joy. What a blessing.
One other who takes up residence in your heart and helps make you who you are. I have more than one, I suspect you do too. But one of those I remember today is my dad, who he was and who he tried to be. I mourn his passing, even as I give God thanks for his witness and his service. I give God thanks that he knew how to abide in Christ’s love. And pray that to honor him and so many others, I will learn to abide as well. Thanks be to God.
Shalom,
Derek
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