One day the speechwriter of a mayor of a big city came in the mayor’s office, and demanded a raise. The mayor responded, “I’m not going to give you a raise. You are getting paid more than enough. It should be enough for you that you are working for a great mayor like me.”
And that was the end of it… or so the mayor thought. Two weeks later, the mayor was to give a speech to a convention of veterans. And he was famous for not reading his speeches before delivering them. So there he stood before a vast throng of veterans, and nationwide press coverage. He began to describe the plight of the veterans. “I’m concerned for you. I have a heart for you. I am deeply-convinced that this country needs to take care of its veterans. So today I am proposing a 17-point plan that includes the city and our country to care for the veterans.”
By this time everyone, including the mayor, was on the edge of their seats to hear what the 17-point proposal was. He turned the page, and saw only these words: “You’re on your own now, you great mayor!”
All of us, no matter how great we think we are, need help. In the gospel of John, Jesus was preparing his disciples for the time when he will ascend to the Father, and they will be left by themselves. I could just imagine the anxiety of the disciples. They probably were asking, “Who will be there for us when we need someone to support us?”
However, Jesus assured them that even if he won’t be with them physically, the Holy Spirit will be with them. This Holy Spirit will abide with them.
The fear of abandonment–physically, socially, emotionally, or spiritually–may be one of our most basic anxieties. At the core of our being, all of us carry the worry that we will be abandoned in our time of greatest need. We fear that during the darkest night of our soul, we will be alienated from those to whom we turn for solace and comfort. In our most intimate relationships, we fear that we will find ourselves emotionally abandoned at those times when we most need to feel supported and loved.
Ultimately, we carry that fear that even God might abandon us when we most need to feel the presence of the One beyond us.
In the gospel of John, Jesus assures us that “the Holy Spirit will abide with you.” In our contemporary world, we rarely hear the word “abide.”
The word “abide” invites us to ponder what it means to sit with, to wait for, to sojourn with, or to tarry with someone.
It does not mean, however, that we never feel alone or lonely. It does not suggest that we will never be abandoned by our friends, partners, loved ones, or even by the church.
Instead, this basic understanding of the Christian faith offers us the hope that even in our darkest hours and in times when we feel alone and lonely, God comes to us, and walks with us in our life’s journeys.
The source of our being shares our human dilemmas, struggles, vulnerabilities, conflicts, and strengths. According to William Barclay, “He takes away our inadequacies and enables us to cope with life.” We are cradled in the love and care of the One who is beyond.
In our human longing for connection and in the face of our fear of abandonment, we are called into the living and steadfast presence of God and God in us.
A minister related her experience in taking communion to a woman who had Alzheimer’s disease, and who was house-bound. Even though she was a member of this minister’s church and the minister had known her for years, meaningful communication was nearly impossible. The woman was confused and disoriented. She simply could not remember anything, including who she was, or who the minister was. When the minister set up the communion elements, the woman’s confusion increased. Seeing the bread and the cup, she furrowed her brow and tried to sweep them off with her hand. But when the minister began the familiar communion liturgy, the woman grew calm. The Holy Spirit irrigated furrows in her memory deeper than any disease, more profound than any confusion. “On the night that our Lord was betrayed …,” the minister said, and the woman began to repeat the words silently with her lips. “This is my body, for you,” the woman was now quietly speaking the words along with the minister, the Spirit whispering the lyrics in her ears. When the bread and the wine were offered, the woman eagerly, hungrily, took them in her hands–the gifts of God for this daughter of God.
As we journey day after day, remember the assurance of Jesus, “I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate to be with you forever… You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.”
