John 16:16-22
Listen here.
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Waiting. Before Coronavirus it simply drove us nuts. Now it’s driving us absolutely bonkers. We spend so much of our time just waiting—waiting in the check out line at Schnucks, or now waiting in line just to get into to the store; waiting for the stop light to change from red to green, especially when there’s no traffic coming from any other direction; waiting for stay-at-home edicts finally to end and normal life to resume. We spend so much of our time just waiting. And we don’t enjoy it at all, not even a little bit.Then along comes Isaiah today. He talks of waiting in attractive, positive terms. “They who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Normally, we think of waiting as something that wearies and exhausts, something that tests our patience and makes our kindness wear thin. Isaiah, though, suggests that waiting actually invigorates us, strengthens us, and fulfills us. Of course, he wasn’t referring to just any old waiting; he spoke of waiting “for the LORD.”
What does it mean for us Christians to wait “for the LORD”? The Apostle John boldly says this in his first letter: “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” (1 John 3:1) Yes, he means it, and it’s quite true. In our Baptism into Jesus, all that belongs to Jesus has been given to us. He is the beloved Son, and when we are baptized into Him, WE also become God’s beloved children. His Father becomes our Father. His inheritance becomes our inheritance. Everything that belongs to Him, He gives to us, especially a life that neither COVID nor death can destroy.
How is that possible? Because He came to take all that belonged to us—our sin, our doubts, our illnesses, even our impatience—and make it His own. Not only did He take our sin on Himself, but He also took our death and everything we deserved for our sin. And He bore it all for us on the cross. Now He gives to us all that belongs to Him through Baptism in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Now, the world knows nothing of this. The world sees us Christians as just ordinary people, even non-essential. But let’s not be surprised. After all, as John also says, “The reason why the world does not know us—that is, as God’s beloved children—is that it did not know Him.” (1 John 3:1) The real problem, though, comes when WE forget to see ourselves that way, when WE forget to BE who we really are, when WE forget to ACT according to our high and holy calling.
We ARE God’s children right now, not just at some time in the far-distant future. And we are His waiting children. We are waiting on the Lord. This is why St. Peter calls us “sojourners and exiles.” It’s why exhorts us to “live as people who are free” even as we honor everyone, love the brotherhood, fear God, and honor the emperor. This is why it “is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly.”
And so we wait. We are waiting and looking forward to a glorious moment: that instant when Christ Himself will appear. The Bible calls it the “Parousia,” or “Presence of the Lord.” We often call it His “coming,” but it’s really more of an unveiling of His hidden presence. It’s not as if Jesus is off in a galaxy far, far away and will come rushing in at warp speed to save the day. Instead, it’s more like a curtain being lifted suddenly and swiftly so that we can see the wonderful truth that our Lord has always been here, hidden within the life of His holy Church.
And His “appearing” is not His alone. In an instant, in the twinkling of the eye, we too will be changed, and we shall be like Him, complete with bodies incorruptible, filled with light, shining with the glory of God. Right now, we walk around cloaked. Our glory is hidden from and unknown to all around us. It’s even hidden from us. But the moment of our Lord’s appearing will also mean the unveiling of who we truly are. And we’re eagerly waiting for it!
“And everyone,” says St. John, “who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure.” You see, when you’re waiting for that glorious moment—that moment when you will be revealed as a child of the Eternal Father, a brother of His beloved Son, an heir of His eternal estate—you take care to start living that way already. Even without the glorious robes of our future nobility, we seek to live as princes and princesses who just happen to be dressed as paupers in this world. That’s the way it was for our Lord. So, we always want our behavior and our life-style, our living and our working, to reflect the hope that we have in Jesus, the hope of the children’s great unveiling at the Appearing of our Savior.
But waiting CAN be painful. Jesus recognizes this in today’s Gospel: “A little while…a little while…a little while.” Think of little ones in the back seat on a road trip: “Are we there yet? How much longer? I’m hungry. I have to go….” And the dreaded answer? “A little while.” Grr! Jesus said this to His apostles the night before He entered His Passover. He warned them that they would not see Him—meaning His death and burial. But then, He said, they would see Him again and their hearts would rejoice, and no one would be able snatch their joy away from them—here meaning His glorious, life-giving resurrection.
But as the Church reads these words today, we think of more than just the Apostles and the past. Ever since our Lord ascended to God’s right hand, we also live in the “little while” of our Lord. We see Him no longer, but “again a little while, and [we] will see [Him].” We live and wait for that moment when we will see Him again. As He says, our hearts will rejoice. You see, that joyful moment of His return, of His appearing, of His unveiling, will also be the rebirth of all of creation. As our Lord says, “See, I make all things new.”
And so we wait. But we often get impatient and fearful and cry out: “O Lord, how long?” At those times, however many and however frequent they are, we get to hear the sweet voice of our Lord: “It’s only a little while.” When we go through the very real difficulties, the fears large or small, and the trials that tax us and wear us down, we need to hold on to that “little while.” Think of what the Church Father Basil the Great said: “The complete human existence is only a tiny interval compared with the endless age our hopes rest in” (Letter 140).
Think of it this way. Compared to the glorious inheritance that Christ has won for us—an eternal inheritance, an eternal life, unending joys, and a family reunion that goes on for endless days, and with family members whom you love and adore—compared to this, our entire earthly pilgrimage is only “a little while.”
So we wait. And when the waiting grows difficult, when we are tempted to forget who we are in God’s Beloved Son or what we are waiting for, let’s remember this: in His rich mercy our Lord Christ spreads a table before us and feeds us with His very Body and Blood. And while we wait to gather together again, our Lord’s Meal is still available by appointment.
At His Table He forgives all our fears and impatience and forgetfulness. Here He reminds us that we are truly, genuinely His—His brothers and sisters, His co-heirs. Here He gives us a foretaste of that glorious Day. It’s how He strengthens us to go on waiting. It’s how He comforts us that the “little while” really does have an end, a glorious end, a completion beyond all that we can imagine. Yes, “they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength…they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! Amen.
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