"I Will Come Back to You Again"

 

“I Will Come Back to You Again”

I am telling you these things now while I am still with you. But when the Father sends the Advocate as my representative — that is, the Holy Spirit — he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you. I am leaving you with a gift — peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. (John 14:25-28)

If only we could order life the way we order a Starbucks coffee. Wouldn't you love to mix and match the ingredients of your future? "Give me a tall, extra-hot cup of adventure with two shots of good health; no room for danger." Or, "I’ll have a decaf of longevity, please; heavy on agility but without the disability." Or maybe, "I'll go with a Grandé happy-latte, with a dollop of love, sprinkled with a Caribbean retirement." We’d all like to go to that coffee shop. Unfortunately, it doesn’t exist. The truth is, life often hands us a concoction that’s entirely different from the one we ordered.

Ever feel as though the barista-from-above called your name and handed you a cup of unwanted stress? "Enjoy your early retirement, Joe, but it comes with marital problems and inflation." Or, "Here’s a hot cup of job transfer six months before your daughter's graduation, Susie. Would you like some patience with that?" Life comes caffeinated with surprises. Modifications. Transitions. Alterations. You move down the ladder, out of the house, over for the new guy or up through the system. Some changes are welcome. Others? Not so much. And in those rare seasons when you think the world has settled down, watch out because we just don't know. The fear of what's next grabs our attention, leaving us awake at night. We might request a decaffeinated life, but we don't get it. The disciples didn't, either.

"I am going away." ( John 14:28) Imagine their shock when they heard Jesus say those words. He spoke them on the night of the Passover celebration, Thursday evening, in the Upper Room. Christ and his friends had just enjoyed a calm dinner in the midst of a chaotic week. They had reason for optimism: Jesus' popularity was soaring, and opportunities were increasing. In three short years the crowds had lifted Christ to their shoulders. He was the hope of the common man. The disciples were talking kingdom rhetoric, ready to rain down fire on their enemies and jockeying for positions in the cabinet of Christ. They envisioned a restoration of Israel to her glory days. No more Roman occupation or foreign oppression. This was the parade to freedom, and Jesus was leading it. And now this – “I am going away."

The announcement stunned them. And when Jesus explained, "You know the way to where I am going," Thomas, in exasperation, replied, "No, we don't know, Lord. We have no idea where you are going, so how can we know the way?" (John 14:4-5) Christ had handed the disciples a cup of major transition and they were desperately trying to hand it back. And wouldn't we like to do the same? But who ever succeeds in handing it back? What person passes through life surprise-free? If you don't want change, go to a soda machine – that’s the only place where you won't find any. Remember the summary of Solomon in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8? You know, “For everything there is a season . . .”? There are twenty-eight different seasons. Birth, death, lamenting, cheering, loving, hating, embracing, separating, etc. God dispenses life the way he manages his universe: through seasons.

When it comes to the earth, we understand God's management strategy. Nature needs winter to rest, and spring to awaken. So, we don't dash into underground shelters at the sight of spring trees budding, and autumn colors don't prompt warning sirens. Earthly seasons don't upset us. But unexpected personal seasons do. "The board of directors just hired a new CEO. Take cover!" Or, "Load the women and children into the bus and head north. The department store is going out of business!" Change trampolines our lives. And when it does, God sends someone special to stabilize us. On the eve of his death, Jesus gave his followers this promise: "When the Father sends the Advocate as my representative — that is, the Holy Spirit — he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you. I am leaving you with a gift — peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid." ( John 14:26-27)

As a departing teacher might introduce the classroom to her replacement, Jesus introduces us to the Holy Spirit. And what a ringing endorsement. Jesus calls the Holy Spirit his "representative." The Spirit comes in the name of Christ, and with equal authority and identical power. Earlier in the evening Jesus had said, "I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever." (John 14:16) The Greek language employs two distinct words for “another.” One means "totally different," and the second translates, "another just like the first one." When Jesus promises "another Counselor," he uses word number two, promising "another just like the first one." And who’s the first one? Jesus himself. Hence, the assurance Jesus gives to the disciples is this: "I’m going away. You’re entering a new season; a different chapter. A lot will be different, but one thing remains constant: my presence. You’ll enjoy the presence of 'another Counselor.'"

“Counselor” means "friend" (MSG), "helper" (NKJV), "intercessor, advocate and strengthener." (AMP) All descriptors attempt to portray the beautiful meaning of parakletos, a compound of two Greek words: para, meaning "alongside of" (think of "parallel" or "paradox"), and kletos meaning "to be called out, designated, assigned or appointed." The Holy Spirit is designated to come alongside you. He is the presence of Jesus both with and within his followers. And can you see how the disciples needed that encouragement? It's Thursday night before the crucifixion. By Friday's sunrise they will abandon Jesus. The breakfast hour will find them hiding in corners and crevices. At 9 a.m. Roman soldiers will nail Christ to a cross. By this time tomorrow he’ll be dead and buried. Their world is about to be turned upside-down. And Jesus wants them to know this: they'll never face the future without his help. Nor will you.

You have a traveling companion. When you place your faith in Christ, Christ places his Spirit before, behind and within you. Not a strange spirit, but the same Spirit: the parakletos. Everything Jesus did for his followers, his Spirit does for you. Jesus taught; the Spirit teaches. Jesus healed; the Spirit heals. Jesus comforted; his Spirit comforts. As Jesus sends you into new seasons, he sends his Counselor to go with you. God treats you the way one mother treated her young son, Timmy.

Mom didn't like the thought of Timmy walking to his first-grade class unaccompanied. But he was too grown-up to be seen with his mother. "Besides," he explained, "I can walk with a friend." So, she did her best to stay calm, quoting the 23^rd Psalm to him every morning: "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life . . . ." Then, one day, she came up with an idea. She asked a neighbor to follow Timmy to school in the mornings but to stay at a distance so he wouldn’t notice her.

The neighbor was happy to oblige – she took her toddler on morning walks anyway. After several days Timmy's little friend noticed the lady and the child. "Do you know who that woman is who follows us to school?" "Sure," Timmy answered. "That's Shirley Goodnest and her daughter Marcy." "Who?" "My mom reads about them every day in the 23^rd Psalm. She says, 'Shirley Goodnest and Marcy shall follow me all the days of my life.' Guess I'll just have to get used to them." And you will too.

God never sends you out, alone. Are you on the eve of change? Do you find yourself looking into a new chapter? Is the foliage of your world showing signs of a new season? Heaven's message for you is this: when everything else changes, God's presence never does. You journey in the company of the Holy Spirit, who "will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you." (John 14:26) So, make friends with whatever's next. Embrace it. Accept it. Don't resist it. Change is not only a part of life, change is a necessary part of God's strategy. To use us to change the world, he alters our assignments. Take Gideon, for example. He went from farmer to general. Or, Mary – from peasant girl to the mother of Christ; or Paul – from local rabbi to world evangelist. God transitioned Joseph from a baby brother to an Egyptian prince. He changed David from a shepherd to a king. Peter wanted to fish the Sea of Galilee; God called him to lead the first church. God makes reassignments. All the time.

But what about the tragic changes God permits? Some seasons don’t make any sense whatsoever. Who can find a place in life's puzzle for the deformity of a child, or the enormity of an earthquake's devastation? When a company discontinues a position, or a parent is deployed . . . do such moments serve a purpose? They do if we see them from an eternal perspective. What makes no sense in this life will make perfect sense in the next. Need proof? Consider your life in the womb.

You probably don't remember that prenatal season, but every gestation day equipped you for your earthly life. Your bones solidified, your eyes developed, the umbilical cord transported nutrients into your growing frame, etc. Why? So you could stay in your mother’s womb? Just the opposite. Womb time equipped you for earth time; it suited you up for your post-partum existence. Some prenatal features went unused before birth. For instance, you grew a nose but didn't breathe. Eyes developed, but could you see? Your tongue, toenails and crop of hair served no function in your mother's abdomen. But aren't you glad you have them now? Well, at least the tongue and toenails part.

Certain chapters in this life seem so unnecessary, like nostrils on a pre-born. Suffering. Loneliness. Disease. Pandemics. If we assume this world exists just for pre-grave happiness, these atrocities don’t qualify. But what if this earth is the womb? What if these challenges, severe as they may be, serve to prepare us, equip us for the world to come? As Paul wrote, "These little troubles are getting us ready for an eternal glory that will make all our troubles seem like nothing." (2 Cor. 4:17). Eternal glory. “I’ll take a Trenta-sized serving of endless joy in the presence of God. Go heavy on wonder and no room for heartache." So, go ahead and order. The Barista is still brewing – until he comes back again.

Grace,

Randy