John 17:20-26 · Jesus Prays for All Believers
To Be Perfectly One
John 17:20-26
Sermon
by Allan J. Weenink
Loading...

One of the most meaningful experiences of my life took place in the Philippines. In the remote village of Lubuagan, high in the mountain provinces of northern Luzon, is a small mission school of some 250 students. The school and its sister church are on the main highway to Manila, which at this point is a narrow, treacherous dirt road, built on a mountain ledge.

This little town literally clings to the mountains. It is half surrounded by graded rice terraces which give the impression of a thousand reflecting pools of myriad sizes and shapes. Approached from a distance, with the terraced ponds in front and the tiered mountains in back, it is an incredible sight to long haunt the mind. Few outsiders have been in this area, except missionaries, because it is so remote and primitive.

It had begun to rain on that Monday morning when I began my first day of talks at little Kalinga Academy. We had three convocations ... and some classroom presentations. The principal came to me in the afternoon and said many of the townspeople had asked for a worship service in the evening and would I baptize some of the children of the congregation. There had been no resident minister for some time. Of course I said yes, and we made arrangements for the community-wide evening service.

It was late in the day when my wife and I walked back to the mission house where we were staying, a mile or so away. The road twisted and turned tortuously and the mud was becoming slippery and slushy. We were soaked when we arrived. Darkness fell quickly and the rain increased as we ate our meal.

The missionary nurse who had driven us in said, with despair in her voice, "I don’t think we had better use the Jeep to try to get back to the church ... we’d have serious problems getting down and it would be practically impossible to get back up the road again, even with four-wheel drive. It looks like you’ll have to walk down by yourself in the dark." There is no electricity in the village ... so I took a flashlight, such as it was, and set out.

I shall never forget that walk as long as I live. Heavy rain continued to fall, shrouded by the most penetrating black darkness imaginable. Carefully, short step-by-step, I made my way along by feel ... knowing there were no guard rails at the precipitous hairpin turns. I was soaked, uncomfortable, and frightenend, as I groped on by flickering and feeble light. In my mind, I said, "What am I doing here ... why should I have agreed to this evening service ... what an awful experience this has turned out to be." I wanted desperately to turn back, but something within forced me on.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I reached the church expecting to find only a handful of people in that awful downpour. Certainly, no one would bring an infant out in weather like this. How wrong could one be! The church was filled to capacity with standing room only. There were candles on the pews and Coleman lanterns on the pulpit.

A scene like this was beyond one’s wildest imagination. The eerie glow of candles and kerosene lamps, every available space taken, the steady staccato of rain on the sheet metal roof, the foot-pumped organ leading in hymns of praise, an occasional whimper from a child, and beautiful Filipino Christians, silent and earnestly listening to the words of a Galilean Jew as interpreted by a caucasian from America.

And then the Baptismal service, using in part a liturgy from a mission-sent Methodist Hymnal and remembered parts from the Book of Common Worship of the Presbyterian Church, in a United Church of Christ in the Philippines Sanctuary ... this American minister took in his arms seven Filipino infants on that most improbable of all nights and baptized them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. These innocents in the Lord came from a lineage in which their grandfathers and great-grandfathers had been fearsome headhunters known as the Igorots.

What a beautiful scene that was. A congregation rejoicing in common worship of a common Lord, setting apart their children in a centuries-old sacrament and pledging spiritual responsibility to nurture them in Christ. In that moment we were perfectly one. The thing that drew us together, Igorots from the mountain and white pastor from the mid-west was the Lordship of Jesus Christ. All barriers of color, history, background, and nationality fell away. Our highest allegiance was beyond any natural or artificial division.

It seems to me that this is what Christ was asking for when he prayed in the Upper Room, first for his disciples and then for the church of the future, the whole company of the faithful who both believe and act. He prays: "And the glory which thou hast given me I have given them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and thou in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that thou hast sent me and hast loved them even as thou hast loved me." Christ prays here for the universal church ... its unity in God, that it may share that fellowship which the Son has with the Father.

This spirit of unity in the church is to convince the world that Jesus was indeed commissioned by God. Now, this unity is not that of a human organization, but it is a gift of divine love. The unity of the Godhead demands the unity of the entire Christian community. This can be perfectly consumated only as its members have fellowship with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. Such fellowship is possible to those who know that the Father’s love for his son proves his love for them.

To be perfectly one does not mean our Lord is talking about some vast super-church, so that organizationally or institutionally we are all under the same umbrella. I rather think, as he prayed, he understood the frailness of the eleven gathered about him, the vastness of the wide world into which they would go, and yet the infinite possibilities of what could happen if one loving heart set another aflame. And that is exactly what did happen ... the message of divine love became incarnate in individual lives.

After Pentecost, when his disciples caught something of a perspective and truly felt what Christ had been praying for at the Last Supper, they set out on an impossible task ... to transform the world. In three hundred years, seven million converts were added to the unity of the faith. "One loving heart set another aflame." The love was the love they knew in their hearts, that God cared for all his children as perfectly expressed in the cross. Today there are some one billion Christians scattered throughout the world. It all started with one man, who was perfectly one with God his Father. How it has grown! We are related to countless individuals we have never seen of every color, race, and background. The unity we sense and share is centralized in the cross. It is our common humility before the grace of God revealed in the love of Christ.

I think that too long we have been concerned with form, organization, structure, programs, and projects. But we really need to identify with individuals even as Christ identified with individuals. His cross was an individual cross. It was for you as an individual and for me as an individual. Even as the cross was God’s instrument for revealing his care for humanity (which is made up of individuals), so we who have been influenced by that cross have a singular witness to bear.

Through the years you may have been active in the church, supported its programs and projects, and attended its worship regularly. But, have you ever talked to another person and truly witnessed? Have you told others what the love of Christ means to you personally and helped them to find that same love ... that same sense of belonging? Have you brought another person or persons into the fellowship of Christ’s church? That, after all, is the way the church really came into being. "One loving heart set another aflame." And that is the way it spreads.

Someone evangelized ... told another the meaning of unity with God as they really understood and sensed it. So the Christian enterprise and its oneness grew through individual testimony. We readily and easily tell our friends about products we have purchased that have been to our liking. The enthusiasm of satisfaction is a convincing quality. Should it not be the same in our one-to-one relationships with others as we speak of our personal relationship with God through Christ?

That perfect oneness is also expressed through our identification with others who stand in need. Starvation, malnutrition, poverty, and rootlessness continue to haunt our modern world. According to information provided by CARE, 10,000 people a day die of starvation. Perfect oneness congeals in the depth of our compassion. Even as the compassionate Christ prayed the Father that his love would be evident through the bonds of unity, he implies that expressive action will be the demonstration of how evident it is.

St. James caught it in his succinct remarks when he wrote: "What use is it, my brothers, for a man to say he has faith, if his actions do not correspond to it? Could that sort of faith save anyone’s soul? If a fellow man or woman has no clothes to wear and nothing to eat, and one of you say, ‘Good luck to you, I hope you’ll keep warm and find enough to eat,’ and yet give them nothing to meet their physical needs, what on earth is the good of that? (James 2:14-16, Phillips) ... A man is justified before God by what he does as well as by what he believes." (2:24)

In other words, James is saying that perfect oneness is what one does as well as what one feels and believes. The Christian community has before it a tremendous challenge in identifying with suffering humanity. Not only by giving our left-overs or our surpluses, but through true sacrifice can we show that we honestly care. As we make costly contributions, over and above the regular support of our particular congregation, we can give evidence of our genuine sharing, compassion, and empathy. Let each gift carry with it a prayer for wholeness in the name of our common Lord. And by your very giving, you will know that perfect oneness of love.

Another thing. Just as there are germ carriers in society, so there are conscience carriers. We have that role. One billion Christians as conscience carriers for Christ. We may never be a majority movement. But the effort of our minority influence can be incredible. That of course is what Christ meant by the salt and light and leaven ... small forces doing powerful work.

Dr. Donald MacLeod of Princeton once said that when the founding fathers of these United States established the nation "under God," only one person in ten belonged to the church, but that ten percent had a voice that was heard around the world. If we are to be the conscience carriers for our generation there must be visible and spoken evidence of what we are and whose we are.

To be perfectly one means that we believe something about the cross of Christ, we speak something about what that means and we show by what we do how it has affected us. One billion people in unison can have a fantastic influence on this globe. That, I believe, is what Christ meant when he prayed: "so that the world may know that Thou hast sent me and hast loved them, even as Thou hast loved me."

That love, expressed in hope, is the bond that unifies all Christendom ... no matter how remote. The gospel of our unity has a way of reaching even the most isolated areas of the world. It is a miracle. But for those who believe and do, nothing is impossible with God.

As we come to his table now, let us hear the word he has to speak to each one of us individually and so find encouragement for the word that we must speak, to keep faith with him. And let us sense anew his sacrificial love as revealed in the cross, so that we find renewed strength for our actions in his service.

CSS Publishing Co., Inc., Only The Wounded Can Serve, by Allan J. Weenink