Monday, 27 January 2020

What are you looking for?

A sermon on Jesus's invitation in John 1: come and see. 

The texts were: Isaiah 49:1-7, I Corinthians 1:1-9 and John 1:29-42



I still haven’t found what I’m looking for has been described as one of U2s most deeply felt songs, as vulnerable as it is stirring, a search for that elusive, missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle of longing and desire; the gap between expectation and the event.

I have climbed the highest mountain
I have run through the fields 
Only to be with you

It was released in 1987 on ‘The Joshua Tree’ album; and stayed at number one for nine weeks. The equally iconic video was filmed in Las Vegas with next to no budget. Bono and Edge play out the imagined interaction between would be street preacher and busker.

I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls / only to be with you

Against the dazzling lights of casinos, a place which perhaps epitomises human desire to fill a void,  Bono pushes the top end of his vocal range accentuating that longing; lingering on the word still:

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for 

Yes, there are strands which express highly romantic human longing; but this burning desire doesn’t satisfy; it continues to search. It presses on. 

It’s perhaps a prayer of a kind: longing for meaning, belonging and purpose; for something more, reaching into depths of the human condition. 

Bono himself calls it ‘a gospel song with a restless spirit’.

This restless spirit may still be running; but also believes in a kingdom to come.  

In the final stanza we hear:

Your broke the bonds and you
Loosed the chains
Carried the cross
Of my shame / Of my shame / you know I believed it

The restless spirit meets the heart of a gospel song: a song of freedom and hope. And yet, the drive of this doesn’t quite rest here - the question that echos is the question on Jesus’ lips in today’s Gospel.

What are you looking for?

Those words are addressed to each of us.

Jesus doesn’t impose or assume. Instead, we are invited to look into our own hearts; to be aware of our own motivations, desires, and restlessness.
It is a questions that draws us not only into conversation but into relationship. 

What have we not found? What are we looking for?

Responding with a question of their own, the disciples ask: Where do you live?

They can’t name what’s on their heart just yet; but they do want to be with the one who gives them permission to ask.  

The response is not a location but an invitation.

Come and see!

Come. See.

It is an invitation to stay; to abide; to rest; to dwell.

The Word of God, abiding near the Father’s heart, dwells with us.

We too are invited to dwell with Jesus.

This is ordinary, intimate and particular: people meeting a specific moment, in a certain place.

The truth of love divine meet restless human hearts, setting them free.

But although we don’t know what passed between Jesus and the disciples; but we do know that what they found was something to be shared.

As a result, Simon too is seen as he is: he’s given a new name to express his calling, to be a rock of faith and strength.

As Jesus looks on us, we too are seen by the face of God: we are seen and loved.

The late Jean Vanier devoted much time to pondering the mystery of John’s Gospel; and built communities around abiding in love.  He writes: each of us has personal walls and pain. The yearning of Jesus is to traverse those walls. The vulnerability lies in waiting for the walls of our hearts to come down in the presence of love and for peace to enter.  

The who who crosses the wall of our vulnerability does not come to us in power, but with gentleness.

John the Baptist declared it to all who walked by: behold, look, see: here is the Lamb of God.

It was the blood of a lamb that saved the people of Israel from slavery; enabling them to walk to freedom in a Promised land.

The blood of this lamb, extends that gift and promise of freedom to many nations. 

This lamb frees us from the things which imprison us: our fears and misdirected desires, our capacity to wound and be wounded.

These are the bonds, the chains, the shame named by U2; what in short had we call sin; our restlessness, things which separate us from others.

This lamb frees us to find new life in communion with God: bearing the weight of our pain, struggle, sorrow and isolation on the cross.

The cross breaks bonds and chains, it undoes shame: when we haven’t found what we’re looking for, love stoops down to our restless, broken, loving, seeking hearts and finds us.

In this Eucharist we behold the Lamb of God. The one who takes away the sins of the world.

We behold and are beheld: we touch and taste our hearts desire, the living bread.

In this Eucharist, God comes to the hidden and sacred space within us, to our deepest self; and there, God breaths love and peace. Seeds of communion with others are planted; shoots of communion with God who says come and see and rest.

Desire is just the start of it.

The longings spoken or unacknowledged.

The restlessness not satisfied by anything on anyone.

This desire is just the start: for there we are found and held and known by name.

We are no longer searching for; but being seen; looked at; beheld and found.

It begins in a small way, this moment of abiding in love.

Jesus attracts a few people. They begin a journey. They walk with him.

And this small group take up the message of a love and peace, of forgiveness and hope.

They take it up and share it across all generations; they seek a kingdom in this world, which is not of this world.

And sometimes this people, this body, this institution, this church forgets. We forget that we are followers of lamb, not a people of power.

And sometimes, in a world of conflict and competition, the church succumbs to the abuse of power.

We have seen that all too clearly and painfully this week in the broadcast of The Church’s Darkest Secret. But we saw it too in letters to a broken to church; in testimonies made at IICSA.

But having been seen, we have to find a way forward, with humility; daring to seek a way forward which speaks of justice and mercy, of life and hope.

As we ask ourselves what we’re looking for or what we most desire, as churches in this parish, we are invited to come and see.

As we dare to be still and to pray, may God give us a clear vision for how we might love and serve others; may God raise up amongst us, preachers and pastors; leaders and visionaries. 

As the prophet Isaiah reminds us, we are called and named to serve a God who is faithful; a God who makes all things new in Christ. 

As Paul reminds us, we are called - together - to call upon the name of our Lord Jesus.  We are a body, seeking, finding, abiding; that the poverty of our natures might be transformed by grace.

May the Spirit so strengthen us and enrich our life that we may witness to the power of God’s love; that in the renewal of our lives, God’s glory might be made known.


© Julie Gittoes 2020