Room to Abide

Last weekend my family moved to Green Lake. Not a permanent move, don’t worry, but we decided we needed a break from condensed condo living, so we’re staying in Minnesota for a couple of weeks. We are lucky to have another dwelling place to shelter for a while, thanks to the Sevig grandparents who bought this lake lot 61 years ago. It’s great to have a new view, a different perspective even if we’re doing the same work, studying and sheltering that we were doing in Chicago.

The kids might argue though that the best part of sheltering at the cabin is that everyone has their own room. Every summer they hunker down in the same space-Annika in the den, Oliver in Grandpa’s old room and Peder in the second upstairs bedroom. Even the cats have their own rooms, so to speak—Melvin upstairs and Millie downstairs.

Which room have you become most familiar with during the pandemic? For many, their living rooms have become offices. For students, kitchens and bedrooms are now classrooms. Medical professionals work tirelessly in rooms that are not in their homes, but patient rooms and Emergency Rooms.

Our rooms, once private places to dwell, have now become public. We’ve seen each other’s dwelling places on TV and in zoom meetings. I watch late night comedians like Jimmy Fallon host in their own homes with young children at his side; see the CBS morning news broadcast from the homes of Anthony, Gayle and Tony. And now even pastors and parishioners get a peek into each other’s dwelling places via Zoom.

In my Father’s House there are many dwelling places, if it were not so would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?

Anyone who has ever been to a funeral before has probably heard this scripture passage. It’s often translated, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms,” but in the old King James version it’s “many mansions” and in the NRSV “many dwelling places.” No matter which version is used at the funeral though, the sermon usually assures those who are grieving that their loved one has a room prepared for them in heaven, so there’s no reason to have troubled hearts during this time of grief.

I imagine though that we hear this scripture passage differently this day in our own grief, when our hearts are troubled for many different reasons. So, preaching a reassuring word that God has a different room for you to spend eternity in may not be comforting.

Jesus says to the disciples, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” Context is everything when reading the Bible and interpreting it for today’s troubles. Jesus had just washed the disciple’s feet, given them a new commandment to love one another and shared his last meal with them. Judas betrayed Jesus at dinner and left the group. Peter is told he will deny that he even knows Jesus when the going gets tough. This is Jesus’ farewell discourse; a fancy way theologians describe his final night with the disciples before his death. He’s saying goodbye to them and letting them know everything will be alright when he’s gone.

The fear and anxiety must have been palpable in that dining room on their final night together. What is Jesus talking about? How will they survive if he leaves them? Where will they go? What will their plans, hopes and dreams for the future be? Why is the ground shifting underneath their feet?

Maybe you can relate to the disciple’s questions; wondering what life will look like for the next many months and years. Why is the ground shifting under our feet? What’s going to happen to our families, our city, our nation and world? Where is Jesus in all this uncertainty, pain, fear, death, and loss? And why is he talking about a new room in a far away place when we need assurance that the Holy One is with us now?

Do not let your hearts be troubled… there are many dwelling places, mansions, rooms. Sometimes it’s better to trust the original Greek, not the translators of modern English Bibles. The word here is meno—abiding. With God the Father, there are many abiding places. Jesus abides with the Father, and the Father abides with Jesus. Abiding is about relationship, not place. This is Jesus at his pastoral best, giving assurance to the disciples that even with separation the relationship is secure.

Jesus abides with us even when, especially when, our hearts are troubled. God, Emmanuel is with us now, and in Jesus we too abide with God.

Karoline Lewis, who teaches the Gospel of John at Luther Seminary, helped me to understand this abiding image more clearly when she spoke of Jesus being intimately held in God’s bosom. I remembered the times I held my own infants close to my breast, gently rocking them when they were troubled, crying because they were hungry or hurting. Tenderly most of the time, frustrated sometimes, I swayed back and forth as I shushed them to sleep, assuring them with my presence that I’m here. They’re safe. They’re loved. No words necessary or effective during times like that. Just a simple abiding presence.

That’s the dwelling place prepared for you. An abiding place where love is tenderly experienced. God holds us close when we’re restless, discontent, fearful… in other words “troubled,” and abides with us.

Abide is not a word we use often in modern language, but there are all kinds of ways we know the abiding presence of others during times of trouble. A friend who holds space for you to grieve during an experience of loss. Nurses who remain present, keeping vigil with someone dying from COVID. Allies working for justice when our siblings of color are terrorized and killed. Parents holding their teenagers close with love, even when they seem not to want it anymore.

You see, we know what it means to abide, to stay close, to remain during times of trouble; and it’s all about relationship. Jesus promises to be in relationship with us always. “I am the way, the truth and your life!” You abide with me, therefore you have a dwelling place with God. Meaning: God is roomy. God is generous. God is hospitable. God can handle your doubts, your fears, your questions. Our dwelling place with God is not only a promise for funerals, at the time of death. It is a promise for the eternal life we are living now.