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.
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