John 14:1-14
1 "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. 2 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? 3 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. 4 And you know the way to the place where I am going." 5 Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" 6 Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. 7 If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him." 8 Philip said to him, "Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied." 9 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'? 10 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. 11 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. 12 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. 13 I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. 14 If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.
Have you ever had a friend say to you, “How’s it going?” and instead of the usual, “Alright I reckon,” you tell them how it’s really going? “Well, things aren’t so good: been working sixty hours a week at work the past three months, and I’m still behind; had a pipe burst at the house while we were out of town, so we had to pay thousands of dollars to get everything fixed (it ruined our antique Naugahyde sofa); our little girl has chicken pox, my father-in-law’s been in ICU for the past week; and I’m pretty sure my car blew a head gasket this morning. So things are pretty bad.” You tell your friend exactly how it’s going, releasing that pent up frustration and exhaustion, hoping to find some catharsis in the simple act of just telling someone all that’s been weighing you down, only to have them respond by saying something like, “Well, worrying about it won’t help.”
Doesn’t that just drive you crazy?! It’s as if they have dismissed your frustrations, anxiety, and fears as nothing more than just idle chatter, as if those things that concern you and cause you to fret are childish problems that aren’t worth losing sleep over. I suppose, if you have the kinds of friends who are inclined to baptize their conversations in a thin veneer of theology, they might respond a bit differently; they might say something like, “Oh, bless your heart. You’ve got a lot on your plate, but don’t worry, God has everything under control…God will never give you more than you can handle (which is a bold face lie, a theological fallacy!).” I mean, you want to believe those sorts of things—and maybe you do, but too often the present stress of reality is far more persuasive than the untried claims of spirituality. It’s rough when a friend responds that way, almost casting your troubles aside as if they’re meaningless, as if you are foolish to worry about them. It’s hard when a friend says such things…but what about when Jesus says them?
That is, after all, what happens at the very beginning of our text this morning, isn’t it? In the very first verse of chapter fourteen Jesus says, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.” In other words, “Don’t worry. Trust God. I got this.” Now, I suppose that’s all well and good as a verse plucked out of context. After all, we most often hear this passage when we’re gathered in this room, the funeral home chapel, or around a hole in the ground under a green tent. These verses are often heard within a message about the needlessness to worry about those who’ve gone on before us because they have gone on to a “better place.” While these verses may provide us with some comfort in moments like those, that isn’t the original context of Christ’s words. No, when Jesus says, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me,” he is speaking to a group of disciples who have an awful lot over which their hearts may be troubled.
One doesn’t have to look far back in the text of the Fourth Gospel to find such sources for troubling hearts: in chapter thirteen Jesus tells his disciples about his death; Judas (one of the twelve, one of their friends, one of Jesus’ closest followers) will betray him; Peter (the rock upon which the Church is supposed to be built) will deny Jesus, not once (as if it were a mistake), not twice (as if he might have slipped up, forgetting his previous error), but three times (the rhetorical equivalent of claiming truth, for if one says something three times, one must surely mean it). This is enough to have the collective hearts of the disciples deeply troubled, for it surely seems like this whole movement is about to crumble…it’s in that anxious atmosphere that Jesus says, "Do not let your hearts be troubled..
As if that weren’t enough, Jesus tells them (again) that he’s leaving, that he’s going to prepare a place for them [“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.”] Jesus is leaving them; he’s going to prepare a place in which his followers may abide in the eternal love and presence of God. Oh, he’s coming back to get them, coming back so that everyone will be together again, but he’s got to go first. But before Jesus’ departure can be added to the list of heart-troubling events for the disciples, Jesus almost casually adds, “And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Do they?
It’s here where the apostle Thomas (it’s almost always Thomas in the Fourth Gospel) says what we’d all be thinking: "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" Thomas sort of has a point, you know: Jesus doesn’t actually tell them where he’s going; he doesn’t give them a physical address, not even so much as a zip code. It’s as if Jesus just assumes the disciples should know, as if he’s told them before, but he hasn’t—at least not the way Thomas (and if we’re honest, we) want to be told. You see, Thomas thought Jesus was talking about some literal location, a place (even in Jesus’ absence) the disciples could find. Thomas wanted to know a final destination—he wanted to know where all this winds up…and don’t we?
We want to know the end-game, the ultimate resolution, the address of the finish line. We spend all kinds of time, energy, and money on books, lectures, and all kinds of things trying to figure out where this whole wild ride of existence will wind up in the end. We want to know a final formula, an ultimate expression of purpose or salvation, a definitive doctrinal list, a thorough explanation of where we’re going and how to get there. We want a line drawn—in black and white in permanent ink. But why? Why does Thomas want to know where Jesus is going? Well, because there is a sense of security in knowing where things are headed, isn’t there?
After all, I’d be willing to bet you’d be more likely to board a plane with a final destination printed on the ticket, than one headed towards an unknown destination (even if you trusted the pilot). Why, I bet you’d be more willing to take on difficult tasks, if you knew with some level of certainty, how it would wind up. That’s really why Thomas speaks up and says to Jesus, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" He’s saying: “Lord, we’re confused by all of this. We’re not really sure where all of this is heading. How in the world are we even supposed to know?” I don’t know about you, but I have found myself praying that exact sentiment more than once in my own life, especially in those times when the way forward is unclear, and it seems as if the weight of all of this life just might be too much to bear. There have been times when I’ve prayed to God to just show me where all of this is going, to clue me in on what’s ultimately going to happen. If I knew how it would all wind up, maybe I’d take a few more chances (but are they really chances if I know how they’ll end up?); maybe I’d be a bit bolder; maybe I wouldn’t be so unsure of myself, anxious about the future, concerned about the direction things are headed. If I knew how it would wind up in the end…
Here’s where some might say, “Well, we know how it’ll end. Just read Revelation!” Maybe. But I’d wager those same folks are willing to get worked up over things outside of their control if they happen to be made uncomfortable. Now, I know—I know, God is God, and the grand narrative of Scripture tells us that God is triumphant in the end, but that still doesn’t keep us from wanting to know the way there, a few more details, does it?
It is in response to Thomas’s confusion (our own confusion) that 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." Jesus’ words here are not meant to be wielded as a weapon or means of exclusivity in the centuries following his resurrection. No, if we read his words in context, they are words spoken to Thomas about finding the way—the way to the “place” where Jesus is going. You see, this “place” isn’t a dot on the map or a set of GPS coordinates: this “place” is a state of abiding with God, a way of living that brings one into the real, eternal presence of the Almighty. Jesus doesn’t give Thomas a location; instead, Jesus says, “There’s no address, no directions to get there. If you want to go, though, just follow me. That’s how you get there.”
It’s as if Jesus is saying to us in these words that when the reality of life is too much to bear, when we want to know the reason or purpose for all of this good, bad, or ugly stuff we deal with in our lives, to just follow Jesus and we’ll get to where we need to be, or maybe the whole point is that where we need to be is following Jesus, and not solely concerned about some imagined, ultimate destination…I don’t know, but I do know that God doesn’t really seem to be the type to hand down a map from heaven with a giant “x” to mark the spot. After all, when God called Abram from Haran, God simply said to Abram, “Go…to the land that I will show you.”[1] I also know that when Moses led the Israelites out of bondage in Egypt, God didn’t send Moses a list of directions with landmarks and outlined steps; no, instead, “The Lord went in front of them in a pillar of cloud by day, to lead them along the way, and in a pillar of fire by night, to give them light, so that they might travel by day and night.”[2] I also know that before Jesus ever showed the disciples that he could walk on water, heal the sick, feed thousands, before he ever mentioned the cross or his resurrection, the first thing he said to them was “Come and follow me.” No, it doesn’t seem that God is the type to give us a destination with an address. Rather, God seems to be the type to call us along for the journey, to abide in God’s presence along the way, wherever that way may lead…
Even so, we’re still people who want something more than just a call to follow; we want more than the assurance that the one steering the ship knows what’s up. No, most times, when life’s waters begin to get rough, we call out asking for a sign. It’s what basically what Philip says to Jesus in the text in front of us. After Jesus responds to Thomas, Philip pipes up, "Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied." “Just give us some proof of the existence of God, some evidence that God is behind all of this, and we’ll leave you alone about it; we’ll come along for the ride, but we’re going to need some proof.” We may not know where we’ll wind up on this ride, but if we could have some signs along the way to let us know we’re on the right track, that’d sure be nice! There’s a problem with such thinking, you know, a problem with wanting a sign to encourage you or correct you, a sign to let you know you’re on the right track or wandering from the path. There’s a real problem with wanting some sort of signal, some proof that everything is running on the rails and not at risk of going astray. You see, when you want a sign, you’ll find one, or should a sign come your way you don’t want, you’ll find a way to ignore it, to explain it away.
This exchange between Jesus and Philip is a great example of what I’m talking about. You see, Philip says to Jesus, "Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied." Will they be satisfied though? I mean, what exactly did they think Jesus would show them? A picture from his wallet? What did they expect Jesus to show them? One of the biggest problems with wanting such signs right there: when we ask for proof, for signs, we already have some idea of what we want to look for, and if a sign comes any differently to what we expect, well then it certainly wasn’t from God! Right? Really, what did Philip expect Jesus to show them?
You can almost hear Jesus’ disappointment (frustration?) with Philip in his answer (Philip is, after all, one of the first disciples Jesus calls in the Fourth Gospel): "Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me?” Jesus has to remind Philip that he’s been with him all this time, a witness to all of Jesus’ signs of power: turning water into wine, healing the sick, restoring sight to the blind, making the lame to walk, not to mention Philip most certainly would have known about Jesus resuscitating Lazarus. Philip had witnessed all of these things and heard Jesus’ teachings, and still he wanted Jesus to show them the Father in order to be satisfied.
I can’t help but wonder how many times we find ourselves asking for a sign from God when we’ve already been through so much with God, or rather, God has been through so much with us. I suppose it’s no different from those Israelites in the wilderness who had witnessed ten plagues, the parting of the Red Sea, water come from a rock, bread form on the ground, and all the other signs God performed in the desert only to constantly complain and grumble. Even if we come to accept that we won’t know the final destination, we still want signposts along the way to tell us we’re on the right track, yet all the while God has shown us such signs, sometimes even when we weren’t looking.
We want a final answer, and if we can’t have that, we want to at least know we’re on the right track. It may be the most difficult part of this life if faith, trusting Jesus enough to follow him wherever he may lead, when we can’t see the road ahead, when we don’t have a clear picture of the future. It’s enough to trouble our hearts. Yet, there is Jesus, always calling us to follow, always assuring us of God’s love, even when we can’t see the way ahead, even when the signs we pray for don’t show, even when we’ve had more than we can handle, there is Jesus. When the weight of the world seems too great to bear, when the way forward is too clouded with the fog of uncertainty, when you find yourself desperate for a sign, for proof, remember that maybe—just maybe—the point of all of this isn’t where we wind up, but perhaps it’s all about the journey, this grand journey of faith, following the one who calls us ever on the way, through truth, and into everlasting life. Amen.
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