Who is Jesus? That’s the question guiding our sermon
series these five weeks at Second Church. Last
Sunday, we focused on an exchange between Jesus
and a large crowd eager for miraculous provision.
They wanted the loaves and fish; Jesus offered himself.
I am the bread of life. This morning, it’s different.
We listen to a conversation between Jesus and his
disciples. This week there is no crowd. The setting is
intimate. Indeed, Jesus is speaking final words to his
dearest friends. There is a reason you are likely to hear
these verses in a cemetery. Jesus has gathered his
disciples again around a table, this time the Passover
meal. I imagine he spoke the words in a hushed tone.
Little Children, I am with you only a little longer. It is
interesting to watch as the disciples rapidly cycle
through the stages of grief in real time, right before
our eyes. There is denial. There is bargaining. There is
anger. Peter, as ever, leads the charge. “Lord, where
are you going? And why can I not follow you there?”
Recognizing the sadness and fear that often lies
beneath the surface of anger, Jesus offers comfort.
“Do not be afraid; don’t let your heart be troubled. I am
preparing a place for you. You know the way.”
Thomas is next in line. I imagine exasperation in his
voice. After all, we’ve been told that time is short,
answers still elusive. “Jesus, we have no idea what you
are talking about. We don’t know where you are going.
How can we know the way?”
I don’t know about you, but I can totally relate to
Thomas here. I prefer to know the plan. I prefer to
have a plan. I want an agenda for the meeting. I want a
map for the journey. I want a set of instructions for the
process at hand. I like five points, seven habits, nine
steps, and Ten Commandments.
Jesus has shared this heartbreaking, soul-shaking,
world-changing news, and Thomas just wants more
details. Jesus has talked about a place. Thomas wants
the address. Jesus speaks of a way. Thomas wants a
map. His question: How can we know the way?
Now, here I like to picture the look on the face of Jesus
as he responds. In the Gospel of Mark, there is this
wonderful encounter between Jesus and a young man
who asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” And
Mark paints the picture this way: Jesus looked at the
man and loved him. I think Jesus loved Thomas in this
moment. I believe it is out of love that he responds.
I am the way, the truth, and the life. In other words,
the answer to your question is right here in front of
you. It has always been in front of you. It comes in
relationship. No map. I am the way to God.
Philip, chimes in next with his own question, and so
we don’t get to hear how Thomas responded or even
how he felt. But I’m drawn to linger on that intimate
moment between Jesus and Thomas, those words
spoken in love to a grieving and anxious friend.
Thomas, I am the way. We do a disservice to this
encounter when we reduce the words to a secret plan
of salvation, or a systematic theology, or a definitive
statement on comparative religions. I’ve heard them
used that way. Perhaps you have too. Here’s the
problem. Those interpretations make the moment a
transaction, the exact opposite of what Jesus does.
Thomas wants the destination. Jesus says, “I am the
way.” Jesus says, “Follow me.”
I am aware that Jesus speaks another sentence.
No one comes to the Father except through me. He
speaks to friends in the grip of grief, preparing for an
overwhelming loss. He speaks to those who need to
know that this love can be trusted. I’m helped here by
an analogy I heard theologian Bill Placher give. Think
of it this way. A fearful child turns to his mother. “Do
you love me, Mommy?” And the mother replies, “Of
course I do. I love all children.” That’s not the most
helpful answer. Jesus here speaks not in ambiguous
or uncertain words but with the specificity of love in
the intimacy of relationship. This love can be trusted.
No one—nothing—can separate you from my love.
Let me be clear. I believe with all my heart that Jesus
is the way to God. I believe that Jesus offers the way
to discover our life’s purpose, to experience abundant
life now, and claim the promise of life eternal. When
I read these words in hospital rooms and standing
at gravesides, I know that I am speaking the gospel
truth. Do not be afraid. Jesus has prepared a place for
you. He is the way to God. He is the truth of God. He
is our life with God. Jesus intends these words to offer
assurance to his disciples.
I believe that Jesus is the path to God not because I
have explored every other road and found them all
lacking. I believe it because the witnesses of Jesus in
the community of faith have provided a compelling
and inspiring path for me. I resonate with the words
of a friend who says, “I didn’t choose Christian faith;
it chose me. As a child, I learned from my parents
and Sunday school teachers that God loves me. I
discovered that God knows me by name and claims
me as God’s own child.” My friend writes, “It has
always been easy for me to dance with the one who
brought me.”
Her words describe my journey. Still, four decades
in the Church have sometimes left me wishing we
followers of Jesus would spend less time obsessing
over secret plans, litmus tests, lists of names, and final
destinations and more time focused on the way of
Jesus. So let’s ask ourselves—what is the way of Jesus?
We might begin with what it is not. The way of Jesus is
not an express route that bypasses suffering, or gets
around grief, or eludes pain. The way of Jesus is not a
secret passage to permanent pleasure. The disciples
will soon learn this in their own experience—and so
will we. If the walk of faith asks nothing of you, if the
walk of faith confirms all your prior assumptions, it is
not the way of Jesus. Put another way, author Anne
Lamott writes, “You can safely assume that you have
created God in your image if it turns out your God
hates all the same people you hate.” You see, there is a
cost to following Jesus.
The way of Jesus is also not a highway. It is neither
arrow-straight nor crystal-clear. Our son Benjamin
loves mazes and dot-to-dot pictures, so we’ve been
collecting activity books filled with meandering paths,
crossroads, tangled webs, switchbacks, spirals,
labyrinths, and tough choices on which direction to
go. And this week it occurred to me, leafing through
one of those books, that the way of Jesus is more
like a maze than an interstate. We cannot always see
what’s just ahead of us. Sometimes—often, in my
case—we have to retrace our steps. Start over. Like
Ben, sometimes we need an eraser. We get frustrated.
We need to ask for help.
Jesus had no map for Thomas, no directions to
follow. But what Jesus offered Thomas, offers us,
is a guide through the maze of life. You see, the
way may be winding but it is not aimless. We don’t
need directions. We need to trust the one who says,
“Follow me. I am the way.”
The words of Jesus reframe our perspective. The
way to God is not found in abstract idea or wellformulated statements. Jesus is the way. He defines
truth. He is our life.
And when we trust in him, our way of life begins to
resemble his way of life. We will seek justice despite
opposition. We will practice kindness when it is hard.
We will walk with humility and grace. And when
the night is dark and the path unclear, we will keep
following his voice. We will keep walking. We will
keep hoping.
Perhaps, like the disciples, you want more
information, a roadmap, a plan. Perhaps, like the
disciples, you are tempted to stop where you are, to
be huddled in fear over what comes next. I’ve heard
those temptations. I’ve experienced that fear. I get it.
The allure of authoritarian absolutes is that they sort
everything out for us. Right and wrong. Enemy and
friend. Us and them. And, once sorted, they can be
evaluated. These praised, those judged. But here’s
a hard truth. Only an idol always answers. And the
answer is always yes. Yes, you are right. Yes, you are
the friend. They are the enemy. Living the way of Jesus
will always be more difficult than that. We will have to
retrace our steps, change our perspectives, hold our
tongues, and, yes, get out our erasers.
Sometimes we take steps forward when we aren’t
quite ready. We lean in, trust God, let go. Thomas
wanted a place, but Jesus offered the way.
You might know the name stuck. Early Christian
believers came to be called “people of the way.” They
were a community whose distinctiveness was found
not in identity markers but in unusual practices—
acts of sacrificial compassion, radical inclusion,
forgiveness, generosity, costly love. To be a disciple of
Jesus meant to be on the move. Still does.
Because if we stand still, frozen in place by the
ubiquity of uncertainty, or plagued by an aversion to
self-denial, if we stand still, we will lose sight of Jesus
soon enough. Listen. It is okay to change directions. It
is okay to start over. It is okay to admit that you were
wrong. It is okay to ask for help. As a community of
faith and as disciples of Jesus, we have to honestly
and repeatedly ask ourself—is our way in alignment
with the way of Jesus?
In the final analysis, it’s the only question that matters.
The only one that Jesus points to again and again and
again in the gospels. Friends, this is no time for fear. Do
not let your hearts be troubled. The road ahead may be
daunting and will surely ask much of us. But we have a
guide. He knows the way. He is the way. Amen.