Unity

On the Fifth Sunday of Easter we go back to the upper room. Back to that long, slow meal Jesus shared with his disciples on the night he was betrayed. We go back because we are on this side of the resurrection now, and the words that didn't quite land the first time can finally be heard for what they are.

Jesus is about to begin one of the longest conversations in the gospels, and he begins it with this: don't let your hearts be troubled. He is trying to instill peace in his disciples before everything unravels. But to hear what he is saying, we need a little history first.

Looking Back

The Garden was the first home. Adam and Eve walked with God in a place he had prepared for them. Then sin entered, and the worst thing sin did was not the thorns or the sweat or the pain — it was the separation. The relationship was broken. Our first parents were sent packing out of the Garden, no longer permitted to dwell where God dwelt. But God didn't leave them without hope. He promised, even then, that he would remedy the separation. He promised that one day we would be home again.

Then came Babel — and a counterfeit. A few chapters later, humanity got bored and impatient. Everyone had one language and one set of words. And in that unity, they decided to make a name for themselves and build a tower up to the heavens. Hold onto that — the name and the place. They were trying to fix the separation themselves. Force God's hand. Climb back into his presence on a ladder of bricks.

And here is the spectacular thing: God watched them, saw the sinful motive, and still said this — because of their unity, nothing they purposed would be impossible for them. (Hang onto that one too.)

But this was unity in the wrong direction, fueled by the wrong desire. So God scattered them. He confused their tongues. He broke their unity not to punish creativity, but to keep them from achieving what they wanted to achieve. God would rather have our sinful efforts broken than realized.

That is the world Jesus walks into. A world separated from God by sin, and incapable of climbing back. We can't make a name. We can't build the tower. We can't pry open the gates of the Garden from this side. And that is exactly the problem Jesus sits down to address at supper.

Looking Forward

Jesus is leaving — and his absence is on purpose. That is the first thing he tells them. He is going back to the Father, and his going is not abandonment. He is going to prepare a place for them. When the place is ready, he will come back and bring them home. His absence has a destination, and that destination has their name on it.

Notice the direction. We tend to pray as if Jesus' job is to come where we are. "Lord, be with me at this meeting. Be with me in this hospital room. Be with me in this kitchen." And he will. The Spirit makes that real. But the Bible's pull is the other direction too. Jesus wants to bring you where he is. Have you ever prayed that prayer? Not just "come to me," but "take me to you"? You can invite Jesus into your home — and you should. But he is also waiting to invite you into his. That's part of what Sunday is for.

And the way is a person. Thomas asks the question every honest disciple wants to ask: Lord, we don't know where you're going — how can we know the way? Jesus answers with himself. I am the way and the truth and the life. So in his absence, we go the way of Jesus, listen to the truth of Jesus, and live the life of Jesus. We don't have to draw a map. He is the map. Walk with him and you will end up in the Father's house, because that is exactly where he is going.

Home is where the Father is. There is something tender in this part of the passage that is easy to miss. Jesus is not just describing a destination; he is excited about it. He is preparing a place. That is a very son thing to do.

When I was a little boy, I loved to clean my room and rearrange it about once a month. New layout, new energy. And the moment I was done, I needed Mom to come see it. Beau does this too. The other day he set up a little office in his room because he got a new Bible and wanted a place to read it — pillows, blankets, a stool, the works. He called it his office. And he wanted everyone to come see.

That is the energy in this passage. Jesus going to the Father is Jesus going home. And he wants us there. The whole point of the cross and the empty tomb is not just that the debt is paid — it is that the door is open. The separation that started in the Garden is being closed. By the Son. For us.

What Happens When the Son Is With the Father

Then Jesus says something his disciples will spend the rest of their lives trying to understand. He tells them that to know him is to know the Father. He has spoken the Father's words. He has done the Father's works. He and the Father are one. To see one is to know the other. They are unified in everything.

And then comes the line that should have made the table go quiet:

“Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do, he will do also; and greater works than these he will do; because I go to the Father.”  — John 14:12

Now circle back to Babel. Remember what we were told to hold onto? A people who wanted to make a name for themselves and a place with God — and how, in their unity, nothing they purposed would be impossible? That whole impulse was right in its longing and wrong in its direction. We were made to share a name with God. We were made to dwell where he dwells. We were made for unity that is not impossible.

Babel built the wrong tower. Jesus is the right one. We have been given the name — the name of Jesus — and anything we ask according to the Father's will is done. We have been given the place — the Father's house — through faith in his Son. The very thing humanity tried to seize at Babel is the very thing Jesus hands us at supper. Not by climbing. By believing.

And here is the punchline. Now that the Son is back with the Father, those of us who are united to the Son by faith share in their unity. We are not stranded outside the door knocking. We are pulled inside the relationship. And inside that unity, nothing the Father wills is impossible for us.

Unity Is the Mark of God

Unity is an attribute of God. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are one. And because the Church is in union with God through the Son, unity is the mark of the Church too. Our unity with each other and our unity with Christ is meant to be visible to the world. It is part of how the world knows.

But notice the difference Babel teaches us. There is unity that tethers us to God, and there is unity that bypasses him. Unity is not neutral. Unity around the wrong thing — the wrong name, the wrong place, the wrong motive — is sinful unity, and God will break it. He would rather scatter our towers than let us finish them. But unity in Christ, unity that runs through the Son to the Father, that unity is the unity in which nothing the Father wills is impossible for us.

So here is the good news of the Fifth Sunday of Easter, Church. Jesus is with the Father. We can be where he is by faith in him. And if we live in unity with God and with each other through him, there is nothing impossible for us.

The Challenge This Week

Pray a new prayer. Instead of asking Jesus only to come where you are, ask him to bring you where he is. Ask to be drawn into the Father's house. Ask to share in the unity the Son shares with the Father. That is a prayer prayed in the right direction.

Audit your unity. Where are you united with people around the wrong name, the wrong place, the wrong motive? At work, online, in your circles, in your own household — are there towers being built that need to come down? God would rather you scatter them than finish them.

And then live as if it's true. If unity with the Son means anything the Father wills is possible, stop praying like the door is locked. Stop walking around like you're still on the wrong side of Eden. Jesus has gone to the Father, and he has taken your name with him. You are not separated. You are home people now. Walk like it.

Peace be with you,

Pastor Bruce