And Hurt's Not Much...

And Hurt's Not Much...--August 29, 2016

[Jesus said:] "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. 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." [John 14:1-3]

There's an old Dave Matthews lyric that goes, "Turns out not where, but who you're with, that really matters... and hurt's not much when you're around."

That's the underlying truth of Christian hope, too, even though plenty of church folks for the last two millennia have found plenty of ways to miss the point fantasizing about pearly gates and golden streets. For the followers of Jesus, it has never really been about the "where," but about the "who you're with."  It's always been about Jesus.  And our hope, in the end, has always been about being with him, or rather him being with us--and ultimately of being in the full and undiminished presence of the Source and Ground of all Being, with our eyes wide open to recognize that we have already been there all along.

Jesus himself knows it, too (of course).  When he talks about what will give comfort and hope for the troubled hearts of his closest friends, even on his last night with them, Jesus talks about himself--a "who"--rather than the details of heaven--a "where."  Jesus doesn't talk about the "where" much at all, and when he does, it's only in terms of the "who." It's only "my Father's house," not "the grand heavenly palace, gilded and glorious." And what he says is that there are "many dwelling places"--the older phrasing of "mansions" misdirects the point of the word Jesus uses, which is not focused on the size of the house but on whose house we get to live in.  Jesus, in other words, doesn't entice his disciples to hold on to hope by goading them with the lure of palatial estates they will all get to own, or of luxurious gardens or decadent resort-like accommodations.  Rather, it boils down to him saying, "I will be there.  Wasn't that all you really ever needed in the first place?"

And, yes, yes that really was it all along.  What we most deeply need for these troubled hearts of ours is not the promise of heavenly riches or beachside property along the River of Life. What we need is not the offer of the seats of prominence at Jesus' left hand and right hand (like John and James had argued about in another scene from the Gospels), but just to be where Jesus is. The real estate side of things doesn't really matter--it's about knowing that we are with the One person in all of the universe (and beyond it) who loves us with infinite depth and unending faithfulness.

Places lose their appeal over time, to be honest.  The beautiful place of vacationing from your childhood can become overgrown and unkempt. The comfortable memories of old homes get eaten alive when you go back to visit the old neighborhood where you used to live and find the familiar landmarks torn down to put in a strip mall. The magnificent tropical destination you picture for some future vacation may well turn out to be overrated.  The bigger house in the exclusive development with the gated community and cul-de-sacs will feel hollow and sad if you were counting on square-footage to make you happy. How does the John Lennon lyric go? "There are places I remember all my life... though some have changed; some forever, not for better... some have gone, and some remain."  Places are a gamble for calming your troubled heart.

But like Dave Matthews sings, maybe it was never about "where" but the promise of who we are with, and who promises to stay with us.  Granted, life itself can feel like a revolving door of people who come and go--children who are born into your life and then grow up and move out, parents who age before your eyes, co-workers who bail out on your company to go after more money somewhere else to find a happier life in retirement in Florida, lovers who promised they would be there forever but who disappointed or disappeared.  All of that is true enough, too.  But note: Jesus doesn't pin our hopes on those people--he pins them on himself. Rather, he nails them to himself. Jesus himself is the constant.  Jesus himself is the one who will be with us always, through this day and through the next. Jesus himself is the one who has loved us with an everlasting love, and who says that we do not have to be ruled by fear any longer, even in this world full of ear, because we can count on his presence. Now and always.  It was never about the where, really--it was always about the who. About Jesus. And hurt's not much when he's around.  Hurt may be real, and pain may be inescapable in this life, but Jesus buoys us up through them all.

And that's why the promise, in the end, for the whole Christian faith, is about a who (or a "whom", I suppose, in this sentence). The promise of the Christian faith is Jesus. Jesus with us always. Jesus with us now. Jesus with us tomorrow. Jesus with us on the third day, too.  Jesus in the midst of my greatest successes, and Jesus through my magnificent defeats. Jesus with me when I am the victim, and Jesus with me when I am the one to blame who needs forgiveness and a new start. Jesus, who will not abandon me, no matter what a mess I make of things. Jesus, who has gone on record saying, "I will never leave you or forsake you" as his official public policy. That Jesus--he says we get to be with him. Always.

That makes it possible for me to face whatever is coming in this day, and wherever it is, with whomever else is or isn't in the picture--there is Jesus.  And somehow in that, my heart is a little less troubled, and there a little less hurt, just in knowing that he will always be around.

Turns out, not where, but Who you're with that really matters.  And Jesus is always with you.

Lord Jesus, un-trouble our hearts by the promise that you are with us and will be forever. Give us the comfort of your real presence so that we can face whatever else comes our way, wherever else the day leads us.