"Abide in Me"
John 15: 9-17
Rev. Laura J. Collins
May 25, 2003
Ric and I got a call recently from a friend who will be visiting us in a few weeks. There is nothing unusual in this, as we've had visitors pouring in to see us since the very month we moved to the nation's capitol. In the four weeks between mid-March and mid-April this year we had six out-of-town families drop in for visits. And we love it!
But this particular call made me especially glad, because it came from a man Ric and I have not seen in years, with whom we used to live. He was an ex-offender living in a church-run half-way house when Ric and I became the live-in house parents for the ministry. And soon he became a spiritual companion and good friend.
Now, lest I romanticize life in a small house with a newlywed couple and a bunch of ex-offenders all sharing one bathroom and our meals, let me say that working at Rogers' House was one of the toughest and most wonderful jobs I've ever had. It was tough because sharing small living space with lots of adults is always tough, but when several of the group are just out of prison and new in recovery from varying addictions, the stakes are even higher. Bathroom conflicts take on ultimate meaning.
Of course, that was the reason for the house. The men in this house chose freely to come there, though they had been released from prison and were free to go anywhere. But they came so that they could find support while re-establishing themselves in society. They knew that they needed to re-learn - or maybe learn for the first time - basic social living skills. How to get along with other adults without assaulting them, for example!
And it was one of the best jobs I've ever had because I learned there in such a concrete, unescapable way exactly what it means to abide in God.
This morning's Scripture is about abiding in Christ. It follows the passage where Jesus proclaims, "I am the vine, you are the branches; abide in me and you will bear much fruit."
Christian churches in the U.S. have suffered, at least in recent years, from an unfortunate and, to my mind, bizarre split between those who focus on a personal relationship with Christ and those who focus on the ethical obligations to care for our neighbors and creation. The evangelical/social justice division, some have called it.
Jesus himself, of course, held these two together at all times. When asked to name the greatest commandment, he didn't name one, but two. Love of God and love of neighbor. In the metaphor of the vine, the same two actions are inextricably combined. Without connection to the source, one does not bear fruit. But what is the point of the connection to the roots except to bear fruit?
Abiding in the source is first and essential, but ultimately known through the fruit it bears. The two cannot be separated. The problems in churches come when they are. If you're busy focussing on an inward relationship to God, but not so busy loving your neighbors, then something has gone wrong in the relationship. Because a relationship with God does bear fruit. That is its nature. And if it is not bearing fruit, then maybe it is not rooted in God after all.
But the other is also true and perhaps more the issue here in Takoma Park: a vision for social justice, a concrete call to love and work in solidarity with our neighbors is all well and good, but apart from the source of love, this vision may not ultimately bear the fruit we desire - either in us or in society. Even if we believe the vision is grounded in a Biblical world-view, even if we feel sure that our political agenda is in line with the will of God, even if we know in our heart of hearts what kind of fruit God needs for us to bear in the world, if we ourselves are not grafted onto the vine, if we personally are not rooted in the source of all vision and all love, then all of our best efforts will still miss the mark. And we will most likely be left hungry and tired and maybe even bereft of hope, as we struggle and struggle to realize the dream.
Now let's think for a minute about a vine. A branch doesn't have to do much to stay on the vine. It abides. It rests. It draws nourishment. It is neither hungry nor tired. Really, it just kind of sits there.
This is not the typical activist idea of how to accomplish Great Things. And for that very reason, I think it is an image that we need to meditate on with deep attention. Consider the vine, (Jesus might have said) how it neither lobbies nor works weekends, yet Julia Child, in all her splendor, never produced a fruit as sweet as these.
A real relationship with God is our deepest need. And the world's deepest need. By real relationship, I mean one where we actually talk to and hear from the Source. I do not mean in some abstract way; this is not a theoretical or cerebral exercise I'm talking about.
Can you imagine a real relationship with a neighbor with whom you never actually had a conversation? Sure, you know each other's names and wave and are friendly year after year. You watch out for each other's kids and maybe even house-sit and share gardening ideas. But if you never actually sat down and listened to that neighbor, would you really consider it a friendship? An acquaintance, a good neighbor, perhaps, but a dear friend? Yet, this is how many of us treat our relationship with God. We're on good neighbor terms with God.
But Jesus says in this morning's text, "No longer do I call you servants ... but I call you friends."
A friend expects conversation, time together, enjoyment, trust. We can expect to hear from God. To actually get answers to our questions. To honestly get guidance on how to proceed with decisions. To find strength and comfort and peace of mind, yes, but also practical advice. When to say yes, when to say no. When to persevere, when to let go.
I wish I could say my conversations with God are daily. I certainly talk at God most days, but I don't always get quiet enough to listen. Still enough to wait for a response. There is a way of shaping one's life, however, that allows for intimate conversation with God. And is has to do with this word: abide. Abide in the presence of God.
Place yourself consciously and unabashedly in the Holy Presence and wait with patience and trust. But this way of life does not depend on long hours of meditative silence. It does not require exceptional skill at prayer or attendance at a workshop on how to hear God. It does require of us some space, no doubt. Some respite from our break-neck lives of work and worry. But it can happen every day, throughout the day. Small whispers of praise and thanksgiving offered up over and over. Moments of awe, remembering the simple desire to please and to trust.
And as we build these habits into the rhythms of our days, we may be surprised to notice the peace we find amidst the hurry, the increase in coincidences around us, the unexplained synchronicities that begin to pepper our days with intimations of divine guidance. We may even find successes in the realm of social justice that once seemed pipe dreams, held up only by our sheer determination.
At Rogers' House, men who had royally messed up their lives wanted to start over. And they had learned the hard way, they couldn't do it alone. Neither can we. They taught me day in and day out that to love, we need each other and we need God.
A branch doesn't just pop onto a vine when it's ready to bear fruit. A branch abides on a vine. It sits there day after day, through rainy seasons and dry. Through spring and winter. In due time, it bears fruit. And the fruit it bears is sweet with joy.
Jesus said, "I have said these things to you that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete."
Abide in me.
Abide in joy.
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