12 “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. 13 When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth, for he will not speak on his own but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. 14 He will glorify me because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. 15 All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.
John 16:12-15
My sermon from Trinity Sunday (June 15, 2025) on John 16:12-15.
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When you hear the word “glory” or “glorify,” what immediately comes to mind?
Now the first thing that pops into my head when I hear the word “glory” is the film from 1989. It tells the story of the 54th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment who served during the Civil War. The 54th was one of the earliest units filled with African-American soldiers. And these brave patriots served, and died, while fighting against those who rebelled against the US as an attempt to keep all black people enslaved. The word “glory” is also associated with the American flag which seems appropriate since yesterday was flag day. An old sea captain in the early 19th century named the one that flew over his ship “old glory” and it became famous when those who rebelled against the United States tried to take it from him. His neighbors in Nashville, Tennessee tried to rip it from his hands when they left the Union. But when the United States finally liberated the city, he took it out of hiding and ran it up the flagpole on the top of the Capitol itself. These stories, I think, reflect a little bit of what “glory” might be. It’s what we often reserve for the stuff of the past that feels momentous, bold, and full of might. Yet it’s also a word that shows up in our hymns, songs, prayers, and the Bible itself. We hope that in all we do we’re “Glorifying God” or “Giving God the Glory.” But if asked to explain to someone else what actually means, our answers would be varied and different. The church has, historically, manifested this glory by building massive cathedrals, endowing hospitals and universities, and starting all kinds of groups to take care of those we push aside. We’ve also, though, started reformations that have torn down these big buildings and said we glorify God primarily through our worship and by what we claim to believe. The neat – and confusing thing – about God’s glory is that our Bible is full of verses supporting each of these different interpretations. I wonder if our words today from the gospel according to John might give us a roadmap of what glorifying God looks like in our lives and in our world.
Now, to do that well, we need to remember what Jesus wasn’t doing when he said these words. He wasn’t in the Holy Temple arguing with other religious leaders. Nor was he in the home of a Roman Centurion, telling the soldier there’s more to life than forcing others to do your will. Jesus was, instead, in the middle of what we call the “Farewell Discourse” – the last words he shared before his betrayal and arrest. For almost three years, Jesus and his friends had eaten together, laughed together, prayed together, and discovered what it looks like when God’s kingdom comes near. These disciples, in the words of Rev. Chelsea Yarborough, had a teacher and a companion they trusted enough to lay down the life they knew and pick up one that was both mysterious and new. The community they formed was rooted in a relationship that was as deep as it was holy. And if you asked them what they thought glory meant, they’d point to the miracles Jesus did and the powerful, strong, and notable thing they were participating in. But just as the community felt as if this might last forever, Jesus told them many times in a long speech he was about to leave. I’m sure the disciples did their best to change Jesus’ mind. Most of the words they muttered, though, remained stuck in their throats. Jesus, the one who could calm storms, feed thousands, cast out demons, and raise the dead – couldn’t also be the One who would leave them behind. What the disciples needed was the assurance their time with Jesus actually mattered. And I’m not sure if we’d describe the pleading, worry, and anxiety they embodied as what it means to truly glorify God.
I wonder if the reason why we can’t do that is because we carry within us a split screen of what we assume glory must be about. On one side, glory and strength are the same. Whatever makes us feel or look strong has to be the glory God demands. And so we act as if winning, striving, and being on top is what it means to honor God. This vision of glory, though, feels small since there are plenty of times when this kind of strength fails us and what seems mighty causes incredible hurt and harm. When our focus is only on that one side of glory, our response to failure assumes we or others or even our God, somehow, got it wrong. Yet there’s another side of that split screen that, when we pay attention, shows a different kind of glory rooted in Jesus himself. We have a Jesus who had the strength to stand up to the bullies and was man enough to shed tears at the death of a friend. We have a Jesus who, in the face of pain and suffering, offered healing to those who believed and those who didn’t. And when this farewell discourse began, Jesus took on the form of a slave, washing the feet of his faithful friends and the one who would betray him. Glory, when it comes to the gospel according to John, is not what we assume is mighty, strong, and notable. The glory of God – and our glorifying of God – is manifested in the ways God is made visible in our world. And while that visibility might involve a miracle or two, God chooses to have glory lived out in the love and care we, as the body of Christ, reveal to everyone around us.
I’ll admit it is a little strange we are the ones God chooses to make God’s glory known. We know, whether we realize it or not, we are imperfect and Christians have a habit of harming people in the name of God. When we try to do what we assume God wants us to do as a sign of God’s strength, might, and power, that’s when sin gets in the way. Our good intentions will never outweigh the results and it’s not our job to become defensive when accountability comes. What we need, then, is help – something stirring with, and in, and through us – so we can love like God loves. And that is, I think, why we have a Trinity. We need God to animate us through the promises given to us in Jesus Christ. The words Jesus shared with his disciples during the Farewell discourse – this promise it’s never goodbye – are also the words God shares with you everyday. The Spirit is the manifestation you are not forgotten; that your worst day won’t be the only day that defines you; and that you really are part of the glory of God being made real in the world. And while our sin might make these promises to feed our ego and pride, God’s love will always bear the Cross rather than placing others on it instead. That is what makes following Christ so amazing and so hard all at the same time. It invites us to be more than simply strong; we have to be kind, hopeful, persistence, human, and willing to live out the grittiest parts of life. Yet the promise at the heart of the Trinity is the promise you won’t go through this alone. You, through baptism and faith, are part of what God is up to. And we, together, can embrace the glory of God by showing what God’s love always does.
Amen.