May 17, 2026 - John 17:1-11 - 7th Sunday of Easter

I tend to find big transitions very unsettling. Watching movies and tv shows from time to time where people are seeing some of the world’s natural wonders, exploring new cities and cultures, trying interesting new foods, or just wandering to see what the world has to offer, and I think how interesting it would be. I like seeing new things. I like learning about the world. There are marvels of art, music, and human ingenuity that all warrant our thoughts and consideration. There are historical landmarks that still speak to us today and tell us stories of courage and of caution. It’s a big world and it is full of things to do.

But, when I sit back and think about it more, I find I’m not all that motivated to actually go out and see and do all of those things. I like being where things make sense. I like being in places where the rules are easy for me to understand. Travelling all around the world sounds like a lot of stress. Some people like that kind of spontaneity. Some are excited to be thrown into a strange place and have the freedom to explore it all and figure out the culture and the wonders it holds. Maybe if I had all the time I wanted and didn’t have to worry about things like my job and paying the bills, it would be a little different. Even still, striking out into the unknown is stressful and unsettling.

Becoming a world traveler isn’t the only big transition you might find. It isn’t the only thing you might find unsettling. Change is a constant part of life. In fact, one of the few unchangeable aspects of life is that change is constant. The size of that change can make a big difference in how well you handle it and how much it throws you out of whack. Small, steady change can be easy to handle. Just a little each day probably won’t be enough to upend your life or send you flying out of control. Even a big change can be handled without too much trouble if you have the time to plan and prepare for it. Spending a couple of weeks or a month in some distant foreign country can be a lot less stressful if you have a tour guide or at least some detailed plan for where you’re going to go and how you’re going to get around to do the things you need and want to do.

But, you don’t always have the luxury of taking change slow or of sorting it all out in advance. It’s one thing pastors have to deal with. We may not like change, but we have to accept that major changes may happen and that we’ll need to go in a short time. Pastors go where the Lord says we are needed. A call to a new congregation may come at any time. A pastor isn’t obligated to take any call that comes along. He has to evaluate his circumstances, the ministry where he’s at, the ministry of the calling congregation, and anything else that might be a factor. He has to decide where he can best be of service to God and His church. A pastor that allows comfort to dictate that decision for him is a pastor who probably isn’t doing his job very well.

Those kinds of circumstances are hardly exclusive to pastors. The company you work for wants to transfer you to another branch, whether that’s overseas or just across the country, it still means being uprooted from the place you’ve gotten used to and learned to call home. The company seems to think you’ll be more useful there, and thus that life will be better, but there’s no guarantee of that. At least where you are you know what to expect. Your new boss might be a jerk. The kids’ new school might be terrible. The cost of living could be a lot higher. All kinds of things could end up going wrong between this home and the next.

The transition could be something a little more unfortunate, a surgery you need to have, followed by the weeks or months of physical therapy afterward. It could be some permanent new disability. It could be an unexpected death. All of them force you to get used to a new life. Whether you’re looking forward to it or not is irrelevant. You’re stuck with it. You’re stuck with uncertainty. You’re stuck with the change. You’re stuck setting off into the unknown.

Without a little context, the scene in John’s Gospel for today sounds a bit mundane. Jesus is sometimes talking to people and saying some rather harsh, but necessary things to them. Other times he’s teaching people something about God, or about the work of the messiah, or something like that. This is neither of those things. This is one of those rare moments we have in the Gospels where Jesus isn’t in front of a crowd or out healing people or any of those things. This is a private time Jesus shares with his disciples. In fact, it’s back in John 13 that John tells us Jesus is celebrating his last Passover with his disciples. Everything from the John 13 to the end of John 17 is part of that time. The Passover, the institution of the Lord’s Supper, Jesus washing their feet, Judas’ departure, all of that happening here, along with some of his iconic “I am” statements: “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. I am the Vine, you are the branches.” All of that concludes here, with a lengthy prayer Jesus gives. John 18 tells us that immediately after this, Jesus leads his disciples out to Gethsemane, where he’ll be betrayed, arrested, and ultimately put to death.

Jesus is about to make a big transition. The next couple of days are going to be more than just unsettling. They’re going to contain some of the worst misery and suffering you can find in this world. These days the rules for capital punishment, assuming the state even allows it at all, are governed by notions of what levels of pain and suffering we are allowed to inflict on fellow human beings, even ones on death row. Most of the time capital punishment aims to be either be as close to instant as possible or as close to painless as possible. Romans had no such compunctions. Criminals, especially of the lowborn sort, were supposed to suffer. That was the whole point. Their miserable, wretched death was supposed to be a message, a deterrent. This is what will happen to you if we catch you doing these same things. There also was no appeals process for these people. The Romans didn’t keep you in prison for years and years until they’d finally processed your execution sentence. No, the Romans were efficient. As soon as you were sentenced, off you went.

Jesus knows there will be no “ifs” or “maybes” here. He knows this is going to hurt. It’s going to hurt a lot. It’s going to be absolutely miserable and there is no getting out of it. What’s worse is that it’ll be a misery he’ll have to face completely on his own. No one will stay with him. No one will help him. There will be no shoulders to cry on. No one will hold out a hand to help him get back on his feet.

It’s in this context that we find Jesus sitting quietly with his disciples praying. He isn’t even praying for himself, despite what he will soon be facing. He prays for them. He prays for their wellbeing. He prays for them to be strengthened spiritually. He prays that his Heavenly Father watch over them and keep them safe in the chaos and darkness that is soon to come.

Even though the wrath of the priests and Pharisees is primarily directed at Jesus, the disciples will all flee for their own safety. They’ll think they are the ones who are lost and alone. They’ll think their life is chaos and darkness, full of uncertainty with no way out. There is no option to just take it a little at a time and no way to plan and prepare. They are just thrown right into it.

Even though the disciples are scared. Even though they fear for their lives. Even though their Lord is hanging from a cross and even though he will most certainly die there. Even though they have all run away from him, he is still with them. He is still working on their behalf. They might think they’re lost and alone, but they’re not. God is with them.

We have a great tendency to think we face life and all of its changes and challenges on our own. Whether it’s some change or transition that we’ve chosen for ourselves or one that has been thrust upon us, whether we’re looking for some positive outcome or just making the best of a bad situation, God is still there.

We look back to this moment in Jesus’ life and see that our fears are not just unfounded, they are an insult to him. The Father’s love for his children does not ebb and flow like the tides. His promises are not flimsy. God’s children are never alone, even when things are at their absolute worst. Even here, just before the end, Jesus’ thoughts are not on his upcoming suffering and death. They are of the disciples; that the fear they face will not be enough to drive them away for good.

When we think that God might abandon us or that we’re facing life alone, the failure is not God’s but ours. The fact that we can come to him at any time and ask for mercy, even for this, is further proof that we are not alone. He always hears us. He always stands beside us. He is always at work on our behalf. Everything Jesus is about to endure is done so that we would be forgiven and have eternal life. If Jesus is willing and able to take on these huge, eternal problems on our behalf, everything else is minor in comparison.

Christ is there with you always. This is the promise he makes before his ascension. He is with you in mercy. He is with you in his body and blood. He is with you as you await the resurrection. He is with you living or dead.

As you face uncertainty, transitions, changes large and small, know that Jesus has faced worse. He faced them confidently because he knew the love of his Father would never waver. He knew his Father had power over life and death and everything else in all of creation.

There is no place you will ever be truly alone. There is nothing you will ever face all by yourself. You may feel uncertain. You may feel unsettled. But your Heavenly Father is not. Jesus is not. God will always be with you wherever you go.