As a boy growing up, my family moved a total of thirteen times. We moved to seven different cities in four different states
The first few moves made little impression on me. My father would called the family together and announce that we were going to move to Knoxville, or Nashville or Memphis, and It sounded rather cool to me. Memphis was where Elvis was, after all. We had moved before, and we always made new friends.
The longest we lived anywhere growing up was in Memphis. We lived here seven years. We lived there through the Kennedy assassinations, the king assassinations, and moved just before we landed on the moon. In Memphis, I made some of the closest friends I ever had. I was involved in school council. I dated and kissed my first girl. I started getting there a sense of belonging.
Then one day, my father came home and announced “We are going back to Knoxville,”
This time it was much, much harder. I went back to my room and cried. It was a separation from a life I loved and from people I loved. Unlike when I was younger, I knew what separation was.
That’s why I identify with the disciples’ feelings when Jesus told his disciples that night in Jerusalem that He was going away. For three years, these disciple had lived together, traveled together, laughed together, and argued together. They had been their own separate world, and the center of that world was Jesus. They had left their families, homes, and jobs to be part of that world. Now it was all about to end, and they would go their separate ways.
Jesus had told his disciples before that he was going away, but it didn’t register in their brains--any more than it does in the mind of a child when he is told that everyone will die someday, including Mom and Dad. In the child’s mind, life goes on forever in the same way it is today. The thought that one day, life and death will separate us from those we love does not seem real until we actually experience it.
Jesus had often left them before to go pray in secret, but he always came back. But they were encamped near Jerusalem, under the noses of their enemies who wanted Jesus dead. They knew that Jesus was in immediate danger the whole time he was there. Now, when Jesus said he was going away, they could see it in their minds the how and why of it. They all knew what it meant and they were sad. What would happen to them after they died? What would their world look like when He was gone?
So after Jesus announced his leaving, he gave them another message He said:
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.
You know the way to the place where I am going."
When we move on, what is left? Memories and hopes. We can remember the good times that are past. We can hope in good times to come when we are reunited. But all this is temporary. Memories fade over time. People we think we will remember forever are forgotten in the passage of the years. We forget so we can move on.
In England there is a statue to a little terrier dog—Greyfriar’s Bobby. The dog belonged to a town watchman named Grey. Bobby was his inseparable for two years. Then Grey died, and was buried in the local cemetery. For fourteen years that dog stood sentinel over his grave. When the local dogcatcher wanted to take him to the pound, the mayor of the city and the town council bought him a license. The dog became the symbol of the city. When the dog died, a statue was erected to him in he local cemetery. The inscription read “May he always be an example to us of unswerving devotion.”
It sounds touching, but we have to wonder if this really was what was best for the dog. Would it not have been better if someone had adopted that dog as a pet? Would that dog not have been happier getting on with his life? Some people hang on too long to memories.
Nor does hope always warm us, either. When we move, we always promise to write. But things happen. People forget, and what the reunion we crave often does not come.
When my family left Memphis, I called my friends whenever possible. I visited in the summers. My entire class once came to visit me in my new home. But they left. But these reunions did not last forever. I struggled to adjust to my new life, The hoped for visits and contacts became fewer and fewer.
Jesus did not simply say to his disciples “Remember me.” (Though he did elsewhere, and gave us communion to remember him.) He did not just say “I’ll write.” (Though He gave us His words to study and remember.) His message was simpler than that. He said “I’m coming back for you. You’ll live with me again, Believe it.”
Actually, he goes beyond a mere promise of return. He also promises that He will stay with us through the spirit. “You believe in God, believe me, too.” Believe not just in the future reunion but in his present guidance. It was not just a promise of a mansion in heaven, but a friend on this earth. He wanted them to keep living together, and He would still be with them.
On hearing of Jesus’ departure, he disciples must have had many fears. But their greatest fear was this. They had been called out their lives and their world, and had been immersed in a new world—the Kingdom of God. Jesus had become their home. Once he left, they lost their home. When he was gone, would life go back to what it was before—would they again be only a band of fishermen and tax collectors, broadened a bit in the mind but still living lives of pettiness and insignificance? Jesus says no. He will always be with us. “Whereever two or three are gathered, there I am.”
One day, that spiritual presence will be translated into a physical presence. “In my father’s house are mansions,” the King James says--but it this is a mistranslation. What Jesus actually says is “In my Father’s mansion are many rooms.” We will live together with Him in His Father’s house.
What is it that comforts us about home? It is being with those we love. There is something about us that craves the tenderness of a body beside us, the sound of other people’s breathing, heartbeats beating in unison. We are social creatures created to society. He society we now have is a pale example of the society we have in heaven.
That’s where he was going—to prepare the mansion.
Then he said something curious. ‘And where you go, you know. And the way you know.”
Most of them said nothing. They were used to Jesus saying things that they did not understand. Half the time, they did not understand what Jesus was saying to them They would just pretend that they knew what he was talking about, like students do in school, or people listening to a sermon
But Thomas (who is unfairly called doubting Thomas) spoke up.
"Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?"
A fair question. Suppose your wife goes to visit a friend. She asks if you would like to join them later for lunch. Maybe you want to, or maybe you don’t, or maybe you are not sure. She says “you know where she lives.” But you don’t know. How would she know if really wanted to be there? If you didn’t ask for directions, then you didn’t want to come.
If the world really wanted to go to heaven, they would be asking for directions, too. Btu most of the world doesn’t know Jesus, doesn’t know where He lives, and isn’t sure they want to. One hour of walking with Him is enough to bring a lifetime of devotion, but the have never had that hour. So why should they want to join Him in heaven? So if we say we are going to meet Jesus, and that anyone can come along, we shouldn’t be surprised if people don’t flock to join us. But those who are really interested in knowing God will ask, and will know.
But if a person wants to know God and to experience God, they will want directions.
Recently, I heard a radio interview with an artist who had created an illustrated book of Genesis. The interviewer asked if he believed in God. He called himself a “Gnostic” not an “agnostic.” An agnostic he said was someone who did not know whether there is a god, and doesn’t much care. He really genuinely wanted to know. My heart went out to him. He would ask directions. Most people don’t.
So, how do you get to heaven? Jesus answered:
"I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
So simple and so profound. If you want to get to heaven, Jesus will show you.
People wonder what religion has the path that leads to heaven. The answer is surprising. No religion, not even Christianity, has the path that leads to heaven. Jesus is the path. We do not go looking for God. God came looking for us. W do not follow a set of instructions to heaven. We must b escorted to the gate by Jesus Himself.
Go to church, Read your Bible, Pray daily. Don’t drink. Don’t curse. Be nice to your mother. We do all this because we think it makes us good people, and that good people go to heaven. Bad people go to hell. That’s not what Jesus says. Anyone, good or bad, can go to heaven, if they will just trust Him, and have a continuing relationship with Him.
Jesus is the way to heaven. We love Jesus, hope in Jesus, and follow Jesus. We look for his guidance ever day. In ever situation we ask “what would Jesus do.” (Yes, I know it’s a cliché, but it still works.) Our lives are long roads that lead to heaven and to our reuniting with Jesus. As long as we keep our eyes on the Lord, we will get there.
Jesus is the Truth for us. We recognize him as not just God’s son, but as God, he Son. He is God’s incarnation on earth, the living proof of his love. Jesus and God are one and the same, and when we trust in one, we also trust in the other. God cared so much for us, that he gave Himself in human form as a sacrifice for sin, that we can stand proudly before Him in heaven
Jesus is Life for us. Day by day we live in he light, illuminated by the presence of our Lord and Savior from the moment our heads rise from the pillow in the morning to the moment we fall asleep at night. Everything in between we live in the love of Jesus.
Throughout the changes of this world, one thing remains the same—Jesus. We can lose our homes, lose our jobs, lose our families, even lose our freedom, but we cannot lose Jesus. That’s why we can in all things be content. Life is not about owning or experiencing, losing or keeping, but holding to what can never be lost, The rest does not matter, because Jesus is ours.
