Continuing in the World -- Seventh Sunday of Easter

 

John 17:6-19

May 16, 2021

 

            A few months ago, I was having one of those days – a bad day. A day that rivaled the day Alexander had in Alexander’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. I was stressed and sad. I was anxious. I was having a hard time focusing on what I needed to get done. Everything I touched seemed to either fall apart or go wrong. I felt alone and forgotten, even though deep down I knew that I have a family and friends and other folks who love me and care for me, people who are willing to help me when I need help, people who check in with me and listen to me. But you know when you have a rough day, it’s easy to forget that. And that’s what I had done on this rough, bad, frustrating day. I felt alone and sad and I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.

            And in the midst of this bad day and my growing pity party, a lovely person reached out to me. This lovely person reaches out to me periodically. She’ll call to tell me something or message me with a question. But on this day, this particularly difficult day, she reached out to me to let me know that I had been on her mind and that she thought I needed prayer. She reached out to tell me that she was praying for me, not because I asked for prayer, but because she thought maybe I needed it. She told me that this thought just occurred to her,

            “I need to pray for Amy, and I need to let her know that I am praying for her.”

            I was moved to tears. This lovely person had no idea what kind of day I was having. She had no idea that I was feeling so lost. Perhaps it was the Holy Spirit that moved her to pray for me. Perhaps she has a deep intuition that recognized something was up with me. Perhaps her deep intuition is the movement of the Holy Spirit, whatever the impetus, she wanted me to know that I was being prayed for and knowing that stopped me in my anxious and overwhelmed tracks.

            I was so grateful. I was so moved. I was so humbled. To know that someone else is praying for you is a powerful thing. To know that someone else is holding you close in their heart and mind is a moving thing. This person was praying for me.

            And you know what? I felt the power of that prayer. I felt the strength that prayer gave me. I felt the courage that was pouring into me from this person’s prayer. I could keep going. I could keep moving forward. I could face another day. The prayer was not magic. Prayer generally isn’t magic. Nothing about my circumstances changed or resolved themselves the minute her prayers were uplifted. But I was changed. My outlook was changed. The way I viewed myself and that day was changed. I was changed because it is a powerful thing to know that someone else is praying for you; to know and to feel that prayer.

            It was a powerful thing to know that this person was praying for me specifically and in that moment. To know and feel that we are praying for each other is powerful, so can you imagine how powerful it would have been to know Jesus was praying for you?

            This is where we are in our passage from John’s gospel this morning. Jesus is praying for the disciples. Our passage begins and ends in the middle of his prayer, and his prayer is part of his long goodbye that began with the last supper in chapter 13. Jesus has taught the disciples about who he is and who his Father is. He has showed the disciples the power that he was given. He has embodied for the disciples the Love of God the Father. He has done all that he could for them while he was in the world. But his time in the world is ending. He is running out of time to be with them. He is almost at the end – of his life in the world, of his time in the world – but the disciples must continue in a world that not only doesn’t understand him and them, but has rejected him, will reject them and even come to hate them. And so, Jesus does the one thing he still has time to do for them. He prays for them.

            What would that have meant for the disciples, to hear Jesus praying for them? What would it have meant for them, understanding – at least in part as they did – that Jesus was soon leaving them? What would it have meant to them to hear Jesus offer this fervent, heartfelt prayer on their behalf? And that is what it was. It was a heartfelt plea for them remaining in a world where he would no longer be. It was an ardent entreaty for God to be with them, to protect them, to guide them, lead them, and love them. It was the last thing he could do for them before the cross. He could pray for them.

            How powerful, how moving, how incredibly humbling it would be to hear Jesus pray for us so passionately, so fervently, so imploringly?

            Jesus’ time in the world was almost done, but his disciples would continue in the world so he did the only thing he could do. Jesus prayed for them.

            Just as the prayer that lovely person prayed for me was not magic in that it did not change my circumstances, Jesus’ prayer was not magic either. It did not change the fact that he was going to the cross. It did not change the fact that the disciples would be left in the world without him, even though their advocate, the Holy Spirit that he promised them would be with them. It did not change the fact that their time together was rapidly coming to an end. But that does not detract from the power of having Jesus pray for them. It does not diminish the power of his words and the love that he had for them.

            Of all the ways that we think about Jesus, do we ever think about this Jesus who prayed for his disciples? Do we think about the Jesus that prays for us? We do make that claim, that Jesus prays for us. In one of the possible Assurances of Forgiveness found in our Book of Common Worship, there is one that includes the different ways that Christ interacts with us.

Christ died for us. Christ reigns over us. Christ prays for us.

I regularly reflect on what it means that Christ died for us. And I have certainly wrestled with what it means for us that Christ reigns over us. Yet, as many times as I have used that assurance, spoken those words, I have not given much thought to Christ praying for us. But why haven’t I? Because this is often the Jesus, the Christ, that I most desperately need. I need to know, to remember, to believe that Jesus the Christ prays for me. I need to know more deeply, more closely the Jesus the Christ who fervently prays to God the Father on my behalf – not because I cannot go to God in my own prayers, but because Jesus loves me so much that he prays for me. Jesus loves us so much that he prays for us.

It seems to me that this is the Jesus we all need to know. Because we all need to feel the power of prayer on our behalf. We all need to know that there is someone out there who is speaking our name to God. We all need to know that we are loved so much that we are prayed for. Jesus knew that he would not be in the world with his disciples again. He knew that he was leaving the world and that the disciples would and must continue in the world without him. So, Jesus did what he could do. He prayed for them. And he prays for us. These prayers may not make everything in our lives perfect. Prayer never guarantees perfection. The prayers of Jesus, of others, may not make circumstances better or easier or different, but we can be changed by them. We can be different. We can do different.

When this lovely person told me she was praying for me, I felt better. I felt less alone. I remember how much I am loved. How loved must the disciples have felt when they heard Jesus praying for them?

The last time I went to Minnesota to see my dad, I drove over to the nursing home to see him every day of my visit. I would take my mom to see him, but I would also go alone. I sat by his side. I fed him ice chips. I talked to him. Some visits he was more awake and with it than others, and he would talk to me a little bit. But by my last day there, he was hardly waking up at all.

The morning that I left to return to Tennessee, I said goodbye to my mom and drove to the nursing home one more time to see Dad before I went to the airport. I knew sitting with him that it would be the last time that I saw him. I knew that he was dying, and that we would soon be in the world without him. I could not change that reality. I could not make anything better or easier. All I could do was tell him over and over again how much I loved him, kiss him on the forehead, hold his hand, say goodbye, and I could pray. And so I prayed. I prayed with him before I left. I prayed on the ride to the airport. I prayed sitting at the gate waiting to board the plane, and I prayed on the flight home.

I prayed and prayed and prayed, not because my prayer changed anything about the situation. My dad would die just a couple of weeks later. I prayed because it was the only way I could show my love for him at that moment. To pray for him was all I had left. It was the only I could thing left that I could do for him. It was the only way I had left to show how much I loved him.

But isn’t that what our prayers for others are so often all about? Isn’t that what our prayers for others really are? A way of showing love, compassion, care? Isn’t that what Jesus’ prayer for the disciples was? It was his last way of expressing his love, his compassion, his concern and care for them. He loved them so much, so deeply that he prayed for them. He loves us so much, so deeply that he prays for us.

This the good news of the gospel. Jesus loves us so much that he prays for us. May we love each other in this way too. May we love each other enough to offer up our heartfelt and earnest pleas. May we love one another enough to pray for each other.

Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.