John 15:9-17;
Rev. Dr. Deborah L. Clark;
May 9, 2021
“If you’ve got pain, he’s a pain-taker. If you feel lost, he’s a way-maker. If you need freedom and saving, he’s a prison-shaking savior. If you’ve got chains, he’s a chain-breaker.”
Remember that chorus? It was written by Zach Williams and recorded especially for our zoom worship by On the Fence. We sang it for five consecutive Sundays this fall, following the assurance of God’s forgiveness. The four names for Jesus in the chorus shaped our sermons for the first four weeks. For the final week in the series, Karen Nell and I added our own ways of understanding Jesus: heart-mender, box-cutter, truth-teller, courage-urger. Eight names for Jesus, and that doesn’t include the traditional biblical ones: Messiah, Rabbi, Prince of Peace, Emmanuel. Then there are the “I am” statements we talked about last week: Jesus as Bread of Life, Light of the World, Good Shepherd, the True Vine. So many words to help us make sense of who Jesus is, to describe the ways our relationship with Jesus has the potential to transform us.
Today, in our reading from John’s gospel, we add one more. “I do not call you servants any longer,” Jesus says to his disciples—to us–, “because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends.”
Of all the compelling ways to make sense of who Jesus is, this is the one that stops me short. If I understand that the gospel writers intend for us to identify with the disciples, then Jesus, above and beyond urging courage and cutting up boxes and being bread and light and life for the world, is my friend. What takes my breath away is not what this says about who Jesus is but what it says about who I am—about who you are. Jesus considers me—considers you—to be his friend. This morning I will try to explain what that means to me. I invite you to consider what it means to you.
Friendship is a complicated relationship. It doesn’t have the clarity of roles and responsibilities and expectations that other relationships have. Friendship is sometimes easy and natural; often it is hard work. While friendship demands the best of what we have to offer, friends are not expected to be perfect. In fact, nobody wants a friend who is always right and never needs help. Friendship isn’t about trying to fix each other or make each other into someone we are not. Instead, friends see potential that might be hidden and support each other as we try to make change. Occasionally, friends confront what we see as destructive choices; those painful conversations happen in the context of a long history of affirmation and fun and just being together. Friends forgive each other—or at least we try. Friends take turns—giving and receiving, helping and being helped—, without keeping score. Most of all, friends enjoy each other’s company.
So what does it mean for me to be Jesus’ friend? It means Jesus does not expect or even want me to be perfect. I am not a project for him to fix or remake in his own image; I am beloved—as I am and with all the potential Jesus sees in me. I am forgiven. I am challenged to forgive when Jesus—or God or the universe or life in general—doesn’t meet my expectations. I am invited into a rhythm of giving and receiving, free to seek that balance without worrying how I am doing in some heavenly scorecard. If Jesus sees me as friend that means Jesus enjoys being in my company. I am invited to choose spiritual practices that allow me to enjoy Jesus’ company as well.
Most of all, it means that Jesus—and by extension God—deeply honors the whole of who I am. I know I am often in need of healing; Jesus, my friend, sees more than my brokenness; his friendship reminds me to claim my wholeness as well. I have heard a calling to try to be part of ushering in God’s kin-dom; this passage assures me that, in Jesus’ eyes, I am so much more than that calling, so much more than the work I do. I am a child of God—and in this passage Jesus acknowledges the ways I am also a grown-up, no longer utterly dependent, definitely not independent, struggling to claim the gift of interdependence. Jesus values my intellect, my interests, my odd quirks, my questions and emotions and doubts, my hopes and fears and dreams. Jesus values all of who I am.
To claim Jesus as friend does not eliminate all those other ways to make sense of who Jesus is. There are times I am like a lost sheep; thank God, Jesus is a good shepherd. There are times I have tangled myself up in chains of my own making; thank God, Jesus is a chain-breaker. There are times I am paralyzed with fear; praise God, Jesus is a courage-urger. To trust that Jesus is also my friend is to honor that Jesus sees me as so much more than someone who is lost or trapped or paralyzed. Jesus sees me, in my worst moments and my best, as a whole person, a beloved friend.
At the beginning of the sermon I lifted up sixteen names for God, some from a song, some from Karen Nell’s and my imaginations, some from scripture. Pain-taker, Light of the world, Heart-mender, Savior, True Vine….Which of the names speak to your experience of Jesus? What shifts if you add “friend” to the list? I invite you to bask in the assurance that Jesus enjoys your company, and to wonder what it might mean for you to enjoy Jesus’ company.
The implications of friendship with Jesus ripple out for me in widening circles. The first circle has to do with how I see and treat myself. What does it mean to see myself as someone Jesus chooses as a friend—as someone who chooses Jesus as my friend? Can I value the whole of who I am the way my friend values me? I am invited to think about what it means to befriend myself. Can I honor the rhythm of my times of being in need and having much to give? Can I let go of the temptation to keep score of my successes and failures, even as I seek to grow and change? To befriend myself is to enjoy my own company. What does it mean for you to befriend yourself, to enjoy your own company?
This friendship with Jesus ripples out into my everyday relationships. It challenges me to cultivate and enjoy friendship, even when I think I am too busy. It also invites me to bring that deep respect for the wholeness of another person to all my relationships—with colleagues, parishioners, family, teachers, counselors, students. Some relationships have more role clarity and constraints than friendships do. Even and especially in those, Jesus challenges me to value that we are all so much more than the roles we play. I invite you to reflect on how friendship with Jesus might deepen and enrich your everyday relationships.
Jesus’ friendship ripples out into my understanding of social justice. When Jesus chooses his disciples—including you and me—as friends, he conveys the radical nature of the kin-dom of God. Throughout his ministry, he confounds the disciples by turning the world upside down. The last shall be first, he proclaims, and the first shall be last. If you want to enter the kin-dom of God, he says, you must be as vulnerable as a child. If you want to be a leader, you must be a servant.
In this passage, as his earthly ministry comes to a close, Jesus goes a step further. It is not enough to turn things upside-down. It is not enough to make the first last and the last first. Jesus calls us to a still more radical vision—a side-by-side vision. We are called to walk side-by-side, to work side-by-side, to transform power-over into the power of mutual relationship.
It is a glorious vision, and a daunting one. We are acutely aware of the ways power is seized, maintained and abused in our world. We are increasingly aware of the insidious danger of power that is hidden or denied. By his example, Jesus calls us to name the realities of power around us. Jesus calls us to turn things upside down and then to go a step further—from upside-down to side-by-side.
At a practical level, Jesus’ words to his disciples point me to some key principles in my efforts to be part of transforming our world: Pay attention to power dynamics, overt and subtle. Whenever possible, form partnerships; work together. Take time to value the wholeness of the people with whom I am working. Keep asking what it would mean to move from leading and following to walking side-by-side.
How does friendship with Jesus inspire your work for social justice? What does it mean, in your efforts to care for our broken world, to go from upside-down to side-by-side?
It takes my breath away– Jesus as friend. It awakens me to my own wholeness. It invites me to treat myself as a friend deserves to be treated. It inspires me to honor the wholeness of others in all different kinds of relationship. It challenges me to seek partnership, to work side-by-side with neighbors and strangers as we create a world where the dignity and uniqueness of each person is treasured.
“No longer do I call you servants…I have called you friends.” What a life-changing gift—friendship with Jesus. How might it change your life? Amen.