Let Not Your Hearts Be Troubled
John 14:23-29
Jesus said to Judas (not Iscariot), “Those who love me will keep my
word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make
our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my
words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father
who sent me.
“I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But
the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name,
will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to
you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do
not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be
troubled, and do not let them be afraid. You heard me say to you,
‘I am going away, and I am coming to you.’ If you loved me, you
would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is
greater than I. And now I have told you this before it occurs, so
that when it does occur, you may believe.”
It is as if I have been gathering threads this week – threads that
seem unrelated and yet, when woven together with the strands of
everyday living, create a tapestry revealing the face of God. I
offer you these threads and trust you will weave them into your life –
and perhaps also glimpse God’s face.
This is the sixth Sunday of Easter and, in 1928 Prayer Book days would
have been known as Rogation Sunday. It is also, of course,
Mother’s Day.
Rogation Sunday introduced a period of seeking blessing on the emerging
crops and the young of the cattle and sheep. The Monday, Tuesday,
and Wednesday preceding the Ascension of Our Lord are know as Rogation
days from the Latin rogare – to ask, to beseech. It marked the
occasion of purification and renewal of parishes boundaries in old
England. We still speak of Spring-cleaning – a time to clear the
dust and debris of the closeness of winter living and to enjoy the
renewal of that bright spirit of spring. Today, where it is still
observed, it is an occasion for renewing connections with rural life in
as much as most of the world’s population is concentrated in urban
areas. It is also a time to recall our interconnectedness with
all of nature and to be observant of all God’s creation -- a time to
watch and listen for the Spirit present in that creation.
Also today, I extend a special greeting to those of you who are mothers – in body and in spirit on this Mother’s Day, 2007.
We speak so often of God the Father that we tend to forget that
throughout the Bible, God’s maternal character is presented as
well. The furor over Presiding Bishop Katharine’s comment about
Jesus as mother reflects how little we acknowledge that God, whose
image we reflect, is neither male nor female yet encompasses
both. Those who would criticize the image of God – and the Christ
– as mother, as feminine – surely do so from an ignorance of the
scriptures and the sense of what it means to be a mother. Without
belaboring the point, the hierarchical, competitive, judging
characteristics associated with masculinity and the nurturing,
inclusive characteristics of femininity are found by degree in each of
us – male or female. Too often we create artificial dualistic
dichotomy to our own detriment. When Jesus speaks of giving us
his peace, when he commands us to ‘not let our hearts be troubled, to
not let them be afraid,’ it is the nurturing, calming, reassuring face
that we see.
And so it was that a remark in Edie’s sermon a couple of weeks ago set me to thinking about an old hymn, Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus,
that is one of many on my long list of favorites. Describing the
experience of going through old family photos, Edie, spoke of how she
sensed the wonder of seeing her mother’s face captured in a time when
it was for her, Edie, the face of love – literally the face of all that
was life. That is, after all, the sense in which we bond to our
mothers – as the face of love and security in a strange and alien world.
The hymn that came to mind was published in 1922 in Glad Songs by the British National Sunday School Union. It was inspired by a Gospel tract called Focused, written by Isabella Lilias Trotter – more about her in a moment. The tract included the words:
So then, turn your eyes upon Him, look full
into His face and you will find that the things of earth will acquire a
strange new dimness.
From the words of the Psalmist to those of the Revelator –
it is the light of the countenance of God that shines on us, the face
of God into which we gaze that transforms our fearful and troubled
hearts. His peace is not peace as the world knows it but the sure
and certain knowledge that we are not alone, we are not cast away, that
we are treasures in God’s heart.
The hymn’s refrain says,
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
In spite of three years of walking with Jesus, of listening
to his words, of observing his actions, and of interacting as close
friends, the disciples still had very little comprehension of what
Jesus asked of them when he said, “Follow me.” Even after the
Resurrection, with the added knowledge that death is not the opposite
of life, but only the opposite of birth, the disciples – and we –
continue to wrestle with what it means to follow him. Remember
that the words Jesus spoke to the disciples were before his capture,
his trial, his crucifixion, his Resurrection. Also in the
post-resurrection appearances, as Jesus stressed the promise of a
comforter to come, a guide, a paraclete to walk alongside us through
the world, the experience of Pentecost was yet to come.
Today’s Gospel directs our attention toward the role of the Holy Spirit
– the Advocate – who is ever present with us, gently pressing,
teaching, shining the light of Christ into our hearts. The
challenge for us is to recognize the presence of the Spirit and to be
still and open when our senses cry out hurt, abandonment, betrayal,
failure.
Isabella Lilias Trotter learned that early. She was born in 1853
to a moderately wealthy family in London. Coming of age in the
height of the Victorian era, she exhibited great talent as an
artist. So much so that John Ruskin, after working with her
briefly, retracted his comment that no woman could be a true
painter. But the Spirit of God caught Lilias and, ignoring
Victorian mores and cultural pressures; she became a missionary in
North Africa. She would devote the remaining forty years of her
life to ministry in Algeria.
Disregarding the limits placed on women, she and two friends
established their own mission work independent of any church. She
devoted herself to an incarnational and contextual theology concerned
with learning the Moslem life rather than trying to coerce converts
into a European worldview. In the desert, over a period of forty
years, she truly learned to detect the presence of the Holy Spirit.
Hear, picture, this excerpt from her diary:
He maketh small the drops of
"water.” I have never seen how literally true that is till I
began studying the dew these mornings. Let a drop fall from your
finger and you will see its natural size: but that would be too heavy
for the frail little blades to bear - it would slip off them from its
weight - so He weighs out to each the tiny measure that it can bear
without even being bowed down, yet enough to "drink into" in
abundance. On one wee filament of moss I counted through a
magnifying glass forty-six little globes of water in what just looked
like moisture to the naked eye - on one side only, without turning it.
Another thing - the grass has to stand very still as it
holds its precious "weight of glory" - and so has the soul on whom the
dew of the Spirit comes - literally easily as this dew, His dew is
brushed off - some of us know it to our cost - an impulse of impatience
- a sense of hurry or worry allowed to touch us - a mere movement of
the self-life against His checking, and He is gone, and our soul stands
stripped and bare. Noiseless must be His Holy Habitation within
us - still with the stillness of the Holiest Place of old, with all the
camp sounds shut out by the four-fold curtain and the very footfall of
the priests hushed by the desert sand.
Oh, the desert is lovely in its restfulness - the great
brooding stillness over and through everything is so full of God.
One does not wonder that He used to take His people out into the
wilderness to teach them.
There are times when the world seems like a wilderness,
when the soul thirsts and hungers as in a dry and barren land. It
is not so easy to be still, to be silent, to be patient, under the
pressures of life. Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look into his
wonderful face. Hear his command: Do not let your hearts be
troubled, and do not let them be afraid. Hear his invitation:
Come and dine.
Amen.
The Rev. John D. Burton
May 13, 2007
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