I know, I know. I've been incredibly remiss in my blogging. I've left a chapter of The Road to Middoni halfway completed. Shameful behavior.
This is likely the busiest I have been in a long, long time, and I apologize for not keeping up with this project. I'm hoping to slowly begin posting more, and to get back in the full swing of things by the beginning of winter. Think of it like a Christmas present!
In the meantime, I thought I'd share something I hadn't noticed before about the intercessory prayer found in John 17.
I'll be honest that I've often read this chapter with my mind glazed-over. The nuanced and convoluted language of the King James translation sends me packing for the easy interpretations of official manuals and sound bite scripture masteries.
But, seeking some peace and focus in my morning, I opened randomly to John. To push past the mind glazing, I read the chapter outloud to myself in my office. And I had the remarkable good fortune to learn about friendship.
The intercessory prayer's chronology is difficult to pin down. John takes us straight from this prayer to Christ's betrayal and arrest, so I've always read it as an intimate glimpse into Gethsemane, a more complex background to the more well-known "let this cup pass, but thy will be done" narrative.
With my self-imposed chronology, I read the chapter looking to gain insight into the Savior's path to Atonement. What ultimately brought him to make the ultimate sacrifice? What drove him to suffer for all humankind?
In verses 16 and 17, Christ talks about his disciples, aware of the difficulties they will face the rest of their lives: "They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth." He pleads with his Father to strengthen and sanctify them. It clear that his love for them is not ordinary. Christ loves everyone, but he has a special sort of love for the men and women who have listened to him, followed him, and tried to build new lives by becoming like him. They have experienced trials together, they have argued together, and they have forgiven each other. They are more than disciples; they are fast friends.
And then, in verse 19, we get this: "And for their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified through the truth." In the moments before his expiatory agony, Christ reveals that, when it comes down to it, he's doing this for them. No doubt his Atonement will have universal impact and bless countless people. I think Christ is quite cognizant of those facts. He likely understood them better at that moment than I do now. But in the end, his lonely walk, his final prayers, his fearful agony are all embraced because he knows he is saving his friends.
This idea inspires and moves me to tears. That a perfect man, a perfect God, could look for and receive strength from the passel of good-natured, humble, sincere, bumbling, prideful, simple, and loyal group of fishermen, publicans, and sinners.
I have always had the strange struggle of feeling much closer to Heavenly Father than I do to Jesus Christ. I'm not sure why. Perhaps the conceptual framework of a father-son relationship and the constant prayers in his direction was easier for me to build upon.
But it's verses like these, verses that show the depth of love and humanity possessed by the Savior, that inspire me to try and follow him. To, perhaps, become one of those friends who brings the Savior joy and comfort. Just like he has always brought such joy and comfort to me.
This is likely the busiest I have been in a long, long time, and I apologize for not keeping up with this project. I'm hoping to slowly begin posting more, and to get back in the full swing of things by the beginning of winter. Think of it like a Christmas present!
In the meantime, I thought I'd share something I hadn't noticed before about the intercessory prayer found in John 17.
I'll be honest that I've often read this chapter with my mind glazed-over. The nuanced and convoluted language of the King James translation sends me packing for the easy interpretations of official manuals and sound bite scripture masteries.
But, seeking some peace and focus in my morning, I opened randomly to John. To push past the mind glazing, I read the chapter outloud to myself in my office. And I had the remarkable good fortune to learn about friendship.
The intercessory prayer's chronology is difficult to pin down. John takes us straight from this prayer to Christ's betrayal and arrest, so I've always read it as an intimate glimpse into Gethsemane, a more complex background to the more well-known "let this cup pass, but thy will be done" narrative.
With my self-imposed chronology, I read the chapter looking to gain insight into the Savior's path to Atonement. What ultimately brought him to make the ultimate sacrifice? What drove him to suffer for all humankind?
In verses 16 and 17, Christ talks about his disciples, aware of the difficulties they will face the rest of their lives: "They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth." He pleads with his Father to strengthen and sanctify them. It clear that his love for them is not ordinary. Christ loves everyone, but he has a special sort of love for the men and women who have listened to him, followed him, and tried to build new lives by becoming like him. They have experienced trials together, they have argued together, and they have forgiven each other. They are more than disciples; they are fast friends.
And then, in verse 19, we get this: "And for their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified through the truth." In the moments before his expiatory agony, Christ reveals that, when it comes down to it, he's doing this for them. No doubt his Atonement will have universal impact and bless countless people. I think Christ is quite cognizant of those facts. He likely understood them better at that moment than I do now. But in the end, his lonely walk, his final prayers, his fearful agony are all embraced because he knows he is saving his friends.
This idea inspires and moves me to tears. That a perfect man, a perfect God, could look for and receive strength from the passel of good-natured, humble, sincere, bumbling, prideful, simple, and loyal group of fishermen, publicans, and sinners.
I have always had the strange struggle of feeling much closer to Heavenly Father than I do to Jesus Christ. I'm not sure why. Perhaps the conceptual framework of a father-son relationship and the constant prayers in his direction was easier for me to build upon.
But it's verses like these, verses that show the depth of love and humanity possessed by the Savior, that inspire me to try and follow him. To, perhaps, become one of those friends who brings the Savior joy and comfort. Just like he has always brought such joy and comfort to me.
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