In Nomine Iesu
John 14:1-14
May 14, 2017
Easter 5A
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus~
Let not your hearts be troubled. There’s a lot going on in today’s holy gospel from John chapter 14. Deep theology.Precious promises. Questions and answers. Comfort and clarity. But we dare not overlook that very first sentence from the lips of Jesus: Let not your hearts be troubled.
Who has a troubled heart? There are plenty of people here this morning with troubled hearts. If you’re not among them—if your heart is carefree—then count yourself fortunate and just wait your turn. Troubled hearts are a common malady among the followers of Jesus—among all of us who live in a world where sin and death loom so large. How many people do you know who are battling cancer right now? And how many of them are losing the battle? How many mothers do you know (on this Mothers’ Day) who are trying to hold together families that are bitterly divided or torn apart by conflict? How many “former” Christians do you know—baptized children of God who (for no particular reason) have wandered away from the faith, from the church, from the Savior? Having a troubled heart isn’t necessarily a sin. For the Scriptures tell us that even Jesus—at the death of his friend Lazarus—even Jesus was “greatly troubled” (Jn. 11:33).
Let not your hearts be troubled. When Jesus said those words, He wasn’t just tossing out some casual comfort for no particular reason. He wasn’t just telling the Twelve to cheer up and turn their frowns upside down. It was the Thursday night of holy week. Jesus would be a corpse on a cross in less than twenty-four hours. He had just predicted that one of the twelve was going to betray Him. Peter had just promised to lay down his life for Jesus (13:37); but Jesus had sharply corrected him: “Truly, truly, I say to you, the rooster will not crow till you have denied me three times.” That night was a night marked by darkness, denial and betrayal. That night would turn out to be a night when sin and death would be unleashed to do their worst. And into the deep darkness of that awful night, when terrible trouble was looming large, Jesus dared to say, “Let not your hearts be troubled.”
What the disciples needed at that moment was comfort; and Jesus did not fail to deliver. What Jesus proceeded to prescribe for their troubled hearts was faith: Believe in God; believe also in me. Jesus here equates Himself with God. He and the Father are one. Jesus needed to make that clear because His glory and His divinity would be horribly hidden in the hours just ahead. And so Jesus reminds them that there’s more to Him than meets the eye.
And then Jesus gives them something to look forward to: In my Father’s house are many rooms. . . I go to prepare a place for you. The old King James Version described it as a house “with many mansions.” The point here is not to imagine the largest mansion or the biggest castle. Rather, Jesus wants us to know, first of all, that there’s plenty of room in the heavenly dwelling He’s preparing for us. The Father’s house is no three-bedroom colonial. The Father’s house is designed to hold a multitude that cannot be numbered.
But even more importantly, the Father’s house—the place that Jesus prepares for us—is permanent. Last week in Bible class we discussed what it means that on earth we are exiles, aliens, and strangers. I mentioned how the address I now have I’ve had longer than any other address in my life. And many of you can say the same thing about your dwelling place. It’s home, yes; but it’s not forever. It’s not permanent. We are but strangers here; heaven is our home. The things that trouble your heart today and tomorrow are temporary. Jesus Christ, in love, has prepared something better for you. You have the comfort of this sweet sentence from the Savior: I will take you to myself.
But Thomas was still troubled. Thomas needed more than just comfort. Thomas needed clarity. “How can we know the way?” he asked. There’s a lot of ground to cover between where we are now and where we will be forever and ever in the Father’s house. Thomas needed details. He wanted the route laid out with certainty and clarity. He wanted to know exactly what to expect: “Lord, how can we know the way?” A lot of us would like that too. We would like to know ahead of time about all the twists and turns and detours that lie ahead. We’ll follow Jesus, for sure, but we would really like to have more information—for planning purposes.
Why do we need all of that? It’s simple: We don’t trust Him. We have more faith in our earthly house than we do in the Father’s house. The earthly house we can see. The Father’s house we see only by faith. And so we trust what we see and we doubt what we don’t see. But when you go through life trusting in what you see, investing in what you see, centering your life around what is visible; suddenly you’re no longer an exile. You’re no longer a stranger here. Suddenly, you’re at home here; while heaven sounds stranger and stranger.
In our kitchen we have what I scornfully refer to as the “junk” drawer. It’s a nice big drawer near the back door. We temporarily place things in that drawer and then promptly forget about them. I cleaned out the junk drawer a few months ago (it was like an archeological expedition digging down through layers of history) and do you know what was at the very bottom? Maps. Street maps of Milwaukee. Maps I had used years ago to find my way to members’ homes and hospitals and churches, back when we were new citizens of this city. I used to love a good map. I took pleasure in plotting my course, my exits, my turns. Planning the perfect route gave me a sense of clarity and confidence. Of course, maps are obsolete now. I miss maps.
Beloved in the Lord, there’s no map to show the way to the Father’s house. There’s no map that will give you all the details you crave about the twists and turns between here and there. Instead, Jesus gives us something better: “I am the way and the truth and the life,” He says. “No one comes to the Father except through me.” The way to the Father’s house—the way to that heavenly mansion—the way of deliverance from sin and death—is exclusively through Jesus. Salvation is found in no one else (Acts 4:12). That’s the kind of clarity we need. All are invited to the Father’s house. God desires the salvation of all people. But there’s only one way to get there. All paths do not lead to God. There are not a multitude of equally valid paths to salvation. It’s not like planning a trip to Mayfair Mall. There are many different routes you can take to get there.
But to get to the eternal house in heaven that Jesus has prepared for us, there are no alternate routes, no bypasses or detours. Only faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, will get you there. He alone is the way. No one comes to the Father except through Him. Jesus is the singular path to heaven. His crucifixion cross made the way for you. His sinless life as your substitute is what has bridged the gap between lost and dying sinners and the holy God of heaven and earth. And His resurrection from the dead is the proof. His Word is truth. The life He gives is eternal. In Him we have comfort. In Him we have clarity.
And yet, sometimes that comfort and clarity doesn’t seem like enough. That was Philip’s concern. For Philip spoke up after Thomas to say, “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” Philip’s concern was having “enough.” Bear in mind, Philip had seen Jesus. Philip had seen the miracles of Jesus. Philip had faith in Jesus. But somehow, in Philip’s mind, that wasn’t enough. He needed more.
Do you ever feel like Philip? Do you ever find yourself praying, “Lord, I believe . . . but.” Troubled hearts always look for signs. Troubled hearts are always quick to prescribe a solution, a plan, a route of escape. But Jesus invites troubled hearts simply to believe in Him—and to leave the details to Him. He is the way. He is the truth. He is the life. He has the solution. He has the plan. He has a deliverance in store for you. Believe in Him. Trust Him. “Come to me,” He says, “all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” He may never show us all that we want to see. He may never reveal to us all that we’d like to know. But He invites us simply to believe; and in our believing, to realize that in having Jesus, we have enough. In fact, we have more than enough—more than we deserve—even more than we desire.
To troubled hearts Jesus gives comfort and Jesus gives clarity. You will find it here: in the preaching and proclamation of His Word. You will find it in the cleansing splash of your baptism into Christ. You will find it in the holy Supper of His body and His blood. This is the place where troubled hearts gather in the name of Jesus. Believe in Him. Cast your cares on Him. Let not your hearts be troubled. Let Jesus bear your sins away. For He can do it. He is the way, the truth, and the life. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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