I’m not exactly sure why, but this is one of my favorite verses: “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” Maybe it’s because reading this every time feels like Jesus is speaking to me (I hope you feel Jesus is speaking directly to you because I really feel like he’s almost whispering this to me). There’s intimacy here of a beloved friend. And joy. Ah, sweet joy. If you’ve ever seen the movie Inside Out, they capture the inner workings of our mind-controlling emotions, and I think they do it quite well. Joy is one of my dominant emotions, and she wants to be fed and seen and expressed and complete . . . whole. For me, joy made complete feels nothing less than a mountain-top experience: radiant like the sun soaked into every pore, full-bloom, fulfilled and ready to burst into love outpoured. That’s my joy, but it’s not always mountain-top highs. Sometimes it’s more subdued in those everyday moments that still bring that sense of fulfillment, contentment, abundance, and desire to share all of that with those around me–not by force but by mutual desire.
Jesus says he’s told us the things to complete our joy. We’ve all heard them. So why aren’t we all walking around 100-percent joyful all the time? Jesus says he’s given us the key. We have full access.
Peter has the key, too. (Literally, doesn’t he hold the keys to the kingdom of heaven? Mtw. 16:19) Peter’s love has been reaffirmed in Jesus’ resurrection (remember he has to repeat his love for the Lord three times, enough to counter his three denials, yes?), and Peter continues the work of a disciple, proclaiming God’s love and the power of belief in Jesus Christ. And like Philip evangelizing to the eunuch last week, Peter is crossing social norms to evangelize to the Gentiles.
When I read these verses, I can’t help of thinking of Peter as being sort of a Great Showman, like Barnum speaking to new recruits, surprised to learn that they are truly gifted. If we read these verses in the context of Chapter 10 from the beginning, we get a better sense of Peter’s attitude through his resistance to eat unclean foods (though he’s been told all things have been made clean) and his continued resistance to associate with the Gentiles. Maybe Peter just really doesn’t want to be there. These aren’t his people, aren’t his friends. They’re of a different culture, from a different neighborhood. He’s been brought up not to associate with this kind.
But bless Peter for following Jesus, for going into forbidden relationships with love of God put above all things–even above himself. Low and behold, the Holy Spirit shows up, gifts the Gentiles and opens Peter’s eyes and mind again to realize: who can withhold the power of Spirit? Who could dam up the water God makes abundant to baptize those who desire it? For the grace and power of God are free to all and are not limited by social labels or barriers. Thanks be to God!
Last week I mentioned the “loving, liberating, life-giving” theme of General Convention. This week I found myself wondering: why liberation in regard to our relationship with God? God’s grace and power are free, unconditional, and limitless. But Peter’s story illustrates perfectly why we need liberation. We, with our beautiful, blessed free will, don’t have to recognize or even realize God’s grace and power, and we’re awfully good about creating all the boundaries and barriers that separate us from one another and from God. Separate from God, it’s a race to see who or what has the most power in our lives. Even within the Church, there’s competition or at least comparison to see who has the biggest, best, most.
Even if we had the greatest Sunday attendance, biggest, best building, I don’t think that would make my–or our–joy complete. That’s not what Jesus was saying. But what Jesus did say gave us the keys to our own liberation so that we can live into that loving, life-giving way he made so readily available to us.
- Get off your high horse and abide in my love.
- Keep the commandment to love one another as I have loved you.
That’s it. That’s the key.
Getting off our high horse means putting God first. God’s love shown through the love between Father and Son. Effortless yet requiring everything. In their very nature. Selfless, whole, unconditional. Chosen. Beloved. Jesus loves each person with this kind of love, and we’re called to be loved and love in return, to abide in this love. Soak in it until we’re saturated. Be loved, beloved. Abide can mean accept. Can we accept our belovedness?
If we can accept our belovedness and abide in love, the second point is easier, though not easy. It’s easy to love those who share our station, beliefs, and opinions. It’s not as easy to love with any manner of grace those who differ completely, especially if they challenge us directly. But it does get easier. If we can try to comprehend how beloved we are, even with all our faults and imperfections, we begin to truly believe that “others” are beloved, too. And even if I don’t like what someone does or how they live their life or what they profess, I can at least try to love them as Jesus loves them. The doors that closed in Jesus’ and the apostles’ faces as they brought peace were closed by people Jesus loved. Yet he didn’t force his way in. That’s true love, right–freely given to be freely received. I guess God’s unconditional love is conditionally manifested–we have to unlock its potential.
Thursday was the National Day of Prayer, right? And it wasn’t until I was reading about it on their website that I realized our National Day of Prayer is particularly Christian. This works for me, for us Christians, but I wonder about the millions who are about to start their prayers and fasting for Ramadan next week, those who sit in silence according to their philosophy and as a means of contributing to their right living, or those who whether they go to church or not when they’re outdoors they marvel at creation, its beauty, and feel close to something they can’t quite name. This is why we keep Time to Breathe as a time set apart for silence, meditation, prayer, or whatever it is you call your time to sit and be, your time to abide in your belovedness.
I want to give myself accolades for being so open and loving, but then I’m walking to the square on Friday evening, having parked at Christ the King. The weather’s gorgeous, the place abuzz, and then this car with two huge Confederate flags waving above it, nearly as big as the car, passes by for everyone to see. I can’t hide my face, for that’s how I feel about it. I notice a couple who doesn’t exactly look like they’re from around here, though maybe they are, and I read their lips as they say something like, “Did you see that? Really?” They look my way, their face matching my expression, and I say, “Classy, isn’t it?” “I know, right?” was their response. And then I realize what I’ve done, in my out loud voice. I’m so glad I wasn’t in my clericals, but then I was in my All Saints’ shirt, where “All are welcome.” All except that guy, right?
I may not agree with that guy, but I can love him as a neighbor. I won’t agree with what he’s suggesting, and I would stand between him and a friend should he pose a threat or my friend threaten him. Violence works both ways, and it’s not the way of love. It gets complicated fast, and it demands our sense of presence and awareness to truly see the love of God in all things and above all things.
That’s what all of this love business is about: manifesting the power of God’s love in our lives.
In society it looks like justice. In relationships it looks like mutual respect and nonviolence. In our education it looks like wisdom. In our prisons it looks like reconciliation and redemption. At our table it looks like radical hospitality.
All of this is readily available to us, just waiting on the next willing heart to open to receive the power of the Holy Spirit. What’s to come when we unlock the love of God in our lives truly surpasses our understanding, but it might be something like joy made complete.