John 15.26-27, 16.4b-15; Acts 2.1-21; Romans 8.22-27
I can sympathise with Jesus' friends in our Gospel reading. Remember, it's the very last week of his life. They're sharing a pre-Passover meal together, Peter has finally allowed Jesus to wash his feet - under protest; Judas has disappeared, no one but Jesus knows where; the mood is dark and confused, and Jesus' explanations don't really help much.
He's off somewhere, but they can't follow him now, though they will later. He's going ahead of them to prepare the way - no, he is the way. He's so close to God that it doesn't make sense thinking of them separately - look at the signs of God's presence he has already shown them - but his followers will do even more amazing things in future. They must love each other as much as he loves them, as much as God loves him. But the world will hate them for it.
Can you imagine yourself into the scene? It's getting later and later, there's all this high theology going on, and you just can't make sense of it, though it's evidently desperately important to Jesus that you do understand. But he can tell you're not getting it, and how much that upsets you, so he tries again.
Don't worry, he says. It'll all be much clearer when it's actually happened. I can see you can't cope with all the implications right now, but trust me, God's going to send someone to explain everything you can't understand yet. And then off he goes again. He's going to send a defence lawyer, who'll stand up for you against the world when your standards don't fit in with other people's expectations of what's right and wrong. He's going to send a teacher, who'll take all the stuff God's explained to him and make it make sense to you too. He's going to send God's Holy Spirit.
Clear to Jesus' friends, at that crucial point? Clear as mud.
And sometimes in our churches I wonder if we get to that point of frustration. We know we can't go on as we are. The structures we've lived in all these years just aren't working the way they used to do. People outside aren't interested, to put it mildly. People inside are talking high theology, but it doesn't always seem to connect up with the rest of our lives.
We need something to make sense of it all, to give us hope that it's worth going on. We need God's Holy Spirit. But what does that mean for us?
One interim vignette to help us fill in the gaps. Having appeared several times to his friends, Jesus speaks to them for the last time on earth. They want to know when God's kingdom is coming - surely it must be soon now, the time when everything is made new and all their enemies are gone? But Jesus hasn't lost his old habit of speaking cryptically. The coming of God's kingdom isn't set for a particular date in the calendar. But that doesn't mean business as normal. They should stay together and wait for power from on high, helping them to tell the whole world about him.
Waiting. That's one thing churches are good at. Another day, another committee meeting, another delayed decision. We wait through the weeks of Advent till Christmas. We wait through the weeks of Lent till Easter. And we are waiting together: not just the leaders, but faithful church members too. What are we waiting for? Partly for answers to the questions which perplex us. Partly for the nerve to share those answers with others. But maybe we are waiting for power, too: a return to the time when everyone respected and attended churches. Will that time return? Should it? What did Jesus mean by power from on high? And realistically, do we hope for anything to change if we go on waiting, or by now is it just a habit?
Fast forward several weeks to the day of Pentecost as described in Acts. And the group's changed. It's not just the twelve now, or even the faithful few. It's ‘everyone', gathered together in one place - a hundred and twenty or so, according to a few verses earlier - with a few alterations. For obvious reasons Judas is absent. Matthias has been voted to take up the empty place among the twelve. And suddenly as they wait all heaven breaks loose: wind and fire, unexpected languages, unaccustomed boldness, unrestrained communication, and a whole lot of new interested people from every country under heaven - and this is even before the Gentiles come in on the act. Is this what it means to receive God's Holy Spirit? Do we want it? Can we cope with it?
Sadly this Churches Together grouping doesn't have any Pentecostals, who are good at spontaneity, but occasionally we have our spontaneous moments too, especially when children are around. And I reckon that's good for my church - I don't know about yours - since we're so used to doing things decently and in order. For sometimes God can get through to us precisely when we welcome people who do things differently from us.
Yet even when our church life is dignified and ordered, the rest of life does not always follow suit. And that is when our reading from Romans comes into its own. Paul takes up the theme of waiting - it's as hard as the labour of giving birth. But it's no longer just the inner circle, the faithful few or even the whole of humanity who wait: Paul speaks of all creation groaning in labour pains, waiting for release from all that is wrong. And we do know something about that. We know about bodily pain; about mental agony; about the fear of losing savings or work or home, of breakdown in relationships through difference or distance. We know our fear of terrorism, of war and famine and disease, of the damage done to earth and seas and sky by our pollution. And we know that many problems have no easy answers, that sometimes all we can do is groan from our very depths for God to save us and all that is.
That deep hope of transformation is God's Spirit praying in us. And it is God's Spirit working in us that can make us into hope for others - if we allow it to do so. But that involves our letting go of certainties, facing awkward questions and risking the chaos that can come with a change of mind or heart, not to mention the possibility of getting it wrong. In other words, it involves learning. But in God's Spirit we have the best teacher going. And God has given us one another too. So what do I hope for, during my Moderatorial year? I hope the inevitable stresses of church life will draw us together, helping us to share good news and bad, our resources and our need for help. I hope our good work together may flourish, showing the world that Jesus still cares and serves in Broomhill and Broomhall. And I hope we as churches together can learn to hope and not fear the future, as God's Spirit leads us into more truth. May my hopes be fulfilled. Amen.