Change
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 Starbucks.
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; don’t
leave room for danger." Or, "I’ll have a decaf brew of longevity,
please; heavy on the agility and sans 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 nights. 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; 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
trying to hand it back. And wouldn't we like to do the same? But who succeeds?
What person passes through life surprise-free? If you don't want change, go to
a soda machine; that's the only place you won't find any. Remember the summary
of Solomon in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8? You know, “For everything there is a season .
. .”? I count 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 the spring's tree buds, and autumn colors don't prompt warning sirens.
Earthly seasons don't upset us. But unexpected personal ones do. "The
board of directors just hired a new CEO. Take cover!" "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, 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 with, and in, the followers of
Jesus. 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 23rd 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, staying 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 23rd
Psalm. She says, 'Shirley Goodnest and Marcy shall follow me all the days of my
life.' Guess I'll have to get used to them." 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
for instance, Gideon. 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? You’re it. 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 might remain enwombed? 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. 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?
Certain chapters
in this life seem so unnecessary, like nostrils on a pre-born. Suffering.
Loneliness. Disease. Holocausts. Martyrdom. Monsoons. If we assume this world
exists just for pre-grave happiness, these atrocities disqualify it from doing
so. 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 the wonder; no room for heartache."
So, go ahead and request it. The Barista is still brewing.
Grace,
Randy
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