I love the words of Jesus in the gospel: “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.” When we feel abandoned or alone, God promises to dwell among and within us. During these coming weeks before Pentecost, we pray fervently for the Holy Spirit to come not only to fill our hearts, but to inspire and refresh us.
Often, we do not have great ways to cope with or understand grief and loss. Perhaps because we are encouraged to be optimistic and happy, or because we do not care to be reminded of our own mortality, limits, and constraints. But we honestly would rather write off or ignore the person or problem right in front of us or in us with a screen, a drink, a puff, or our own ego and apathy. For whatever reason, we don’t have the energy, time, or tools to acknowledge the losses we and those around us are facing.
We can describe our backaches, stomachaches, toothaches, and headaches. But there is another kind of ache. The ache of loss. The ache of longing. The ache of grief. The ache of love. Do you ever miss someone so much that it is an ache in you? Or sometimes we ache in loneliness or isolation.
Sometimes we feel this ache at holidays, or on Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. We may miss a parent or a loved one. Some of us grieve that a relationship could have been, but was unable to be, and the regrets or wrongs we carry. For those adopted, sometimes an ache to know their birth parents or other mixed feelings. And when parents are gone, then we become orphans. Even if our parents are alive, we may also feel like orphans, lost, without a home.
Susan Cain writes in Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make us Whole that this longing in us connects us to the universal human experience and invites us into creativity, connection, and transcendence.
We are God’s offspring, we heard in Acts. In Paul’s famous speech to the Athenians, he says: “In God, we live and move and have our being.” Whatever different name of God or a higher power, we all long for that source of all that is good, all that is beautiful, all that is just, all that connects us to life and one another.
The disciples ache in the gospel. They wonder how they will go on without Jesus. Yet Jesus assures them that he will not leave them orphaned. He will not abandon them.
Jesus promises to be right there, in and with them—to be with us—through the Holy Spirit. As we prepare for the Pentecost holiday, we pray: Come, Holy Spirit.
Last week, we read part of this same passage from John 14, where Jesus tells them not to worry; that he is going away to prepare a place for them. And then in today’s reading, he continues providing comfort and hope with the promise that he will not leave them orphaned, abandoned, or alone. Jesus promises to send the Advocate, the Holy Spirit. This Spirit is right there always with us, inside and beside us, relational — always knowing the truth better than ourselves, more help, consolation, comfort, and encouragement than we can know we need or fully understand.
Sometimes, for me, the Holy Spirit is hard to really understand. And it may feel or seem like an imaginary God or pretend thinking. In reality, sometimes we need some physical arms to pick us up, to wrap their arms around us, to direct and lead us. We need some skin on the help. We need one another—real people empowered by the Holy Spirit to speak the truth, to walk beside us. We give thanks this day for our mothers and those who have shown us love in action by feeding, nurturing, teaching and raising us. Empowered by the Holy One who abides in us and with us, we all can support for those who are hurting, both those known and unknown to us.
We delight in the joy of the resurrection. And yet, part of the hope is trust telling. We can and must find ways by the Spirit to learn how to be more and more honest about our own limits, hurts, broken parts of grief, or isolation. We cannot know the full joy of Easter without also acknowledging all that leads us to the cross in the first place.
It is easy to be a person of faith when everything is going just right. But it is not easy when confronted with death. It’s easy to be a person of faith when the grades are good, the paychecks are coming in regularly, and you’re surrounded by love and hope. But when confronted with the pain and mystery of death, we all struggle to articulate and understand faith, and our hearts are troubled.
And it is at these times when we do not understand, when we feel isolated or wronged, that we especially need the Holy Spirit, encouraging, moving, working, experienced in community, through promises proclaimed and a meal shared and songs sung. May the promised Advocate be your strength and portion this day, may she be your rock and our hiding place, and may every moment be lived within the Spirit’s grace.
- For children living in war zones or hurting.
- For a planet that cries out from our abuse and neglect.
- For those who live with pain, with addictions, and mental illness
- For those who are experiencing loss and grief of any kind.
We are all orphans in some way, needing one another and the One who promises to abide in us. You are not alone in your loss, in your worry, in your grief and despair. We often think we are the only ones feeling this way, but that longing connects us to all that is human and one another. The Holy Spirit—advocate, comforter, companion—is present, speaking truth powerfully in our lives. For the truth points toward hope in the midst of despair. The message of the cross continues. The spirit of truth consoles in the midst of grief and doesn’t shy away from the real pain and fear associated with loss. The truth is made known in love shared in the midst of a hurting world.
In whatever spiritual ache you carry these days. Whatever loneliness or hurt or sadness. Hear Jesus’ words: I will not leave you orphaned. I am coming to you. In your deepest yearning, I will abide in you and you in me.
The risen and wounded Christ stands among us this day. As a mother. As a father. As a lover. As a friend. As a companion on our journey. Come, Holy Spirit! Come down, O love divine.
