May 20, 2014
Dear St. Paul’s Family,
If it weren’t for a boy named Jason Short, I wouldn’t be alive today.
Seriously. I can remember as clear as day the moment I nearly drowned in the school swimming pool when I was in first grade. I have never been the best swimmer, and the pool unit in physical education class always gave me the shivers. Some of it went fine, like using the kickboards or playing "Marco Polo" in the shallow end. But on this particular day, I was in the deep end. We were in the water doing our bobs: hands on the wall, heads popping up and down into the water to practice our breathing.
Instantly, my hands slipped away from the wall, and I was left adrift on my own. Instead of swimming back toward the wall, I began to panic, flailing and gasping, pushing further out into open water. My chlorine soaked eyes made everything look fuzzy, and in between the gasps, I caught a glimpse of Jason Short.
He was a boy in my class, lanky and athletic, and the fastest one in my grade. He was a terrific swimmer, and he was sitting there on the wall. His eye caught mine, as I managed to cough out a single word.
“Help.”
I’ll never, ever forget the feeling of his hand clasping mine, and the sharp, decisive tug that pulled me back over to safety. In one moment I had felt sheer terror; in the next, instant and overwhelming relief.
There have been times since then, as I’m sure is the case for you, that I have felt like I’m drowning. Not literally in a body of water, but alone, tossed in the tempests of life, left to the whims of whatever waves and undertows would submerge and swallow me. That day in Mr. DeYoung’s first grade P.E. class would not be the last time yours truly would ever call for help.
And I'm sure you’ve said it a few times, too.
The memory of my near-death-by-drowning came to mind when I read the text for this Sunday. Jesus is counseling his disciples on the eve before his death, knowing that the time would come when they, too, would feel alone and abandoned, left to face the tossing sea billows on their own. But in the fifteenth chapter of John, he made this promise:
“I will not leave you as orphans. I will come to you.”
Jesus promised he would be right there, like a lifeguard, to extend a helping hand to pull us out of the depths of our suffering.
Great promise, right? Sounds like a terrific insurance policy, huh? Well, except for one thing. Jesus continued:
“Soon the world will no longer see me, but you will see me.”
Here's the catch: We have to see him first. Because some people will, and some people won’t.
Like so much of the spiritual life, solutions to life’s deepest and toughest challenges aren’t quite so simple. There is no magic wand or Aladdin’s lamp to make all our problems go away. And simply knowing that the hand of Jesus is always near to steer us to safety doesn’t guarantee that we will sense that presence. Sometimes, the chlorine seems too thick, and we give up looking.
What is required, first and foremost, according to John, is the ability to see Jesus. There’s seeing, and then there’s really seeing.
We don’t notice the nuance as much in the English language, but the Greek in which John was written has at least three different words for seeing. One word is blepo, which is the simple act of using our eyes for physical sight, like the healing of the blind man in John 9. Another is eido, which adds the dimension of knowing, similar to the way one says, “I see!” when gaining new knowledge. Jesus tells Nicodemus in John 3 that only by being born again could he see the Kingdom of God in this way. And then there is the word theoreo, which means to search, ponder, and discern. It’s what happens in John 12, when some Greeks approaching the disciples ask how they might see Jesus.
All three of those words are used throughout the book of John over thirty times, more than any other gospel writer. Clearly, he is interested in the subject of sight.
So which word for seeing does John use here, in chapter 17?
Which form of seeing is required in order for the disciples to sense the presence of Jesus among them at all times, especially in the midst of their loneliness and abandonment?
And, more importantly, how can you and I see God in the midst of our darkness, and acknowledge the work of the Holy Spirit in us, whom Jesus says, “the world can’t receive because it neither sees him nor recognizes him?”
How can we see, when our eyes are stinging from the chlorine, our lips barely breaking the surface of the water, our muscles cramping from the leg kicks and arm flails?
What does it mean to see Jesus?
Well, how about this: come this Sunday, and we'll discover it together. You'll see for yourself.
Grace and Peace,
Magrey
The Rev. Magrey R. deVega
St. Paul's United Methodist Church
531 W. Main St.
Cherokee, IA 51012
Ph: 712-225-3955
Email: mdevega@sp-umc.org
John 14:15-21
15 “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.
16 I will ask the Father, and he will send another Companion, who will be with you forever.
17 This Companion is the Spirit of Truth, whom the world can’t receive because it neither sees him nor recognizes him. You know him, because he lives with you and will be with you.
18 “I won’t leave you as orphans. I will come to you.
19 Soon the world will no longer see me, but you will see me. Because I live, you will live too.
20 On that day you will know that I am in my Father, you are in me, and I am in you.
21 Whoever has my commandments and keeps them loves me. Whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”
VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL REGISTRATION
Registration closes this Friday for our summer VBS "Weird Animals,” taking place June 16-20 from 9am-Noon. Registration will be open till May 23rd. The cost is $7 and includes a t-shirt. Kids age 4 years old thru completion of 4th grade are welcome. Registration forms available at church office, and will also be available in Sunday School classrooms and will be handed out to kids this week. Contact the church office at 225-3955 or Korrie Waldner at 229-7112 with any questions.
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