A Spirit of Adoption

Trinity Sunday, May 30, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Romans 8:12-17; John 3:1-17[1]

Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night. He is perhaps afraid or embarrassed to be seen with Jesus. He is, after all, a Pharisee, a teacher of Israel, and as we learn later in John’s Gospel, a member of the Sanhedrin. These are the people most threatened by Jesus, the ones who will eventually put him on trial. Nicodemus doesn’t want to be seen with this rabble-rouser; but he is troubled, confused. He has questions for which he cannot find answers. He is no longer sure where he belongs. So, he comes by night to speak with Jesus.

Jesus seems to leave Nicodemus more confused than when he arrived. He talks about being born from above, born of the Spirit. “How can these things be?”[2] asks Nicodemus. A careful reading of the law and the prophets has not revealed to him what Jesus is trying to communicate. Jesus is speaking a different language – the language of the spiritual, the heavenly. Jesus isn’t speaking the language of rules, of procedures and “how to get into heaven.” He is, rather, speaking the language of relationship, of belonging, and of love.

We, too, come with our questions, out of the night of fear and confusion, seeking the fresh perspective, the new life offered by Christ. We are pulled in a thousand directions, dragged down by the weight of temptation at every turn, trapped in living, as Paul puts it, “according to the flesh.”[3] We have heard that the way of the flesh is the way of death, and we are trying to live according to the Spirit, to seek the way of life, but we are stuck somewhere in between. We’re not sure who we are, and who we are supposed to be. Like Nicodemus, we are drawn toward something that we don’t understand, the mystery that is God.

Jesus speaks of God in the language of relationship. To Jesus, God is “Abba”, literally “Daddy.” God is a parent who loves us as children, who seeks to save us from our self-absorbed lives. God is a brother, one of us, who seeks to show us the way of eternal life. God is a Spirit moving through us, empowering us, shaping us. It is the nature of God to be in relationship, and this is what we celebrate on Trinity Sunday, the one God with three identities in relationship with one another. And it is God who seeks us out to love us, to teach us that we belong to the family of God.

Belonging is a basic human need. As children we need to know who mommy and daddy are, and where our home is where we can feel safe. We need to belong to a community, a country, a school, a team, a club, a church. We need people to call family, friends, we, us. And we seek out ways to identify ourselves with where we belong.

Young people attempt to find their place, their identity, in many ways. Some dress in the latest fashions, join teams and don the colors of a school; others dye their hair, shave their heads, or get tattoos and piercings. Most will try out a sport, an instrument, a school club, the musical, or talk about favorite books, movies, and music in search of commonality with others.

Adults try to find their way as well. “What do you do?” is a question that usually puts a vocational identity on a person. Where you live and what car you drive sends a message of your “place” in the world. Whether we belong to the Harley club, the Lions, or a church softball team, we surround ourselves with the symbols of where we belong. I have a certificate from my college fraternity on my wall at home, I wear a UCC lapel pin on my suit jacket, and I fly the flag from the front of my house. In high school I wore a letter jacket, a camp sweatshirt, and (briefly) a calculator watch. And who I am has a lot to do with the people I associate with.

Jesus was a traveler, and did not have a permanent home. One of the first things he did was gather a group of people around him. The disciples derived identity as followers of Jesus, and some of them even had nicknames – James and John were the Sons of Thunder, Simon was called Peter “the Rock.” This group became Jesus’ friends, his family even. Mark tells us that “A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, ‘Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.’ And he replied, ‘Who are my mother and my brothers?’ And looking at those who sat around him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers!’”[4] Jesus even invited the disciples into that intimate relationship he had with Abba.

Jesus offers an identity that goes beyond what the world offers. Clothing and cars, haircuts, sports teams, friends, and even churches change, but the identity that Christ offers is based on a relationship with God that does not end. One scholar explains: “The intimate relationship of faith is richer than others because it is established by the Spirit of God and will not fail. And even if it leads us into threatening or challenging circumstances as we share in Christ’s suffering, we have the assurance of God’s parental love, the Spirit’s power, and presence of our brother Christ.”[5]

There is a touching scene in John’s Gospel at the foot of the cross. “When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.”[6] The disciple is adopted, literally, into the family of Jesus, just as we have become, through Christ, adopted members of the family of God.

Paul says that we have been adopted as God’s children. I heard a story once that grasps the feeling of what Paul is talking about. In Native American culture the blanket makes a statement of belonging in the community. Blankets were woven with patterns unique to a particular community and family. A Pueblo woman might wear a simple dress at home. “But before she goes out to join the group dancing in the plaza of the pueblo, she wraps herself in a fringed shawl – a symbol of her belonging to the community. At the moment she wraps herself in the shawl, she is transformed. She’s wrapped in a different identity.”[7]

A similar thing happens when orphaned children are adopted by another Native American family. They are wrapped in the family blanket and walked through the village. This is a statement that these children now belong to this family. When Paul talks about our relationship with God he says: “you have received a spirit of adoption.”[8] We are wrapped in the blanket of Christ’s love and walked through the village of humanity. God says these are my children, the adopted ones, “heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.”[9] Those who are led by the Spirit of God belong to the family of God.

Belonging to the family of God gives us an identity, but it also challenges us. God has adopted the people around us as well. We are in this together. We are joining a large family, and we must learn how to love all of our sisters and brothers. One of the mottos of the United Church of Christ is “No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you’re welcome here.” The relationship with God is a gift of the Spirit, open to all, for the blanket of God is big enough for every one of us. The people with whom we share this community, this country, and this world are our family. Our brothers and sisters in Christ are our partners in this community; they seek with us the realm of God. The challenge for us is to open our blanket, to wrap it around the shoulders of those around us, and to walk together to the dancing in the plaza of the pueblo.  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] John 3:9.

[3] Romans 8:13.

[4] Mark 3:32-34.

[5] Clayton J. Schmit, “Homiletical Perspective on Romans 8:12-17” in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, Vol. 3, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 43.

[6] John 19:26-27.

[7] Robert W. Kapoun and Charles J. Lohrmann, Language of the Robe: American Indian Trade Blankets (Gibbs Smith, 2006), p. 17.

[8] Romans 8:15.

[9] Romans 8:17.

Like the Wind

Pentecost Sunday, May 23, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Acts 2:1-21[1]

They were gathered in one place. They were probably celebrating a Jewish festival celebrated on the fiftieth day after First Fruits, also known as Shavuot, the “Feast of Weeks.” Shavuot commemorates the anniversary of the giving of the Torah by God to the Moses at Mount Sinai. It had been fifty days since the resurrection, and on that day, as they gathered, God gave the Holy Spirit. “Suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting” (v. 2).

God’s presence came like the wind. Listen; can you hear it? In the rustling of leaves, in the flap of a sparrow’s wing. In the creak of wood as the trees bend and buildings stretch. In the bending grass, the flowing fabric of a flag, in the rattle of a can as it bounces down the street. If you listen, the wind is speaking.

Do you understand the wind? It can be difficult to know what it is saying. Learning a language, learning to communicate, is hard. Learning to communicate in another language, or another culture, is even harder. Learning to hear the voice of God in the wind, well, it doesn’t come easy. Listening, really listening, takes work. The thing is, God’s voice transcends human language. The voice of God may blow in the wind, or roar in the fire, or speak in the sound of sheer silence. And we may not catch it at first. But it is there.

I came across something in a book I read a long time ago. Richard Bach published a book in 1977 called Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. The main character has a lot to learn, and is given a book filled with many good tips on living. This passage is what blew by the other day: “A cloud does not know why it moves in just such a direction and at such a speed, it feels an impulsion… this is the place to go now. But the sky knows the reasons and the patterns behind all clouds, and you will know, too, when you lift yourself high enough to see beyond horizons.”[2]

I often feel like I’m getting blown around through life, and I’m not always sure where I’m going. You may feel that way too. Sometimes I get an impulse, I hear a voice calling me somewhere, but I don’t always know the reasons. Fortunately, there are times when I am in tune with the wind, more able to trust that the sky knows the reasons, and I find myself going somewhere that feels right. Sometimes, the wind carries to words to me, and I can sing along with the great song.

Like the apostles, gathered that Pentecost day, there are times when we feel like we are not tossed around in the wind but flowing with it. There are days when we gather as a church and the flames of the holy fire appear among us. When we come together, our spirits are lifted. Our heads are lifted up, and we stand taller. Smiles appear on our faces, even if we didn’t feel like smiling before. We open our mouths and speak as one, we sing in harmony, and the presence of the Spirit is undeniable.

One of the things that the wind does is create pressure. We often think of pressure as something which weighs us down. There is pressure to perform, to be successful, to get it all done, or to buy the next best thing; and there is pressure from our peers to do things that are not always good for us. We exhaust ourselves by constantly pushing against all of the pressure. But pressure can also lift us up.

When the pressure above a wing is lower than that below it, the wing is lifted. There is tremendous pressure “here below,” but the pressure “from above” can lift our spirits. That is the pressure that whispers “Be still and know that I am God.”[3]

We feel that pressure, the pressure that lifts, when we seek to lift others. A good conversation, time spent working together, or even a moment being playful like children can be enough to create some lift. And when we lift others, we rise with them. When I encourage a friend, I feel my spirits being lifted, my priorities reorganizing, and I finish the day on a higher plane. And that is something that I think we can all do for one another.

Stop for a moment, talk with someone, listen to someone, pray with someone, reach out a hand, or take the hand extended to you. You may find yourself lifted to where spirits can fly.

It feels good to fly free, but there is always the danger of crashing, or getting lost in the wind. Human beings are, I think, heavier than angels, and we have a hard time staying aloft. And we often find ourselves blown off course. On every journey we run the risk of getting lost. A kite is not a helium balloon, which can rise of its own accord. What keeps a kite from getting lost is the line that links it to an anchor. For me, the anchor is Jesus. Jesus offers me a rock on which to stand, an identity that shapes and molds me, a flame that burns in the darkness and is not overcome. When I follow in the way of Christ, I know that my course is true.

But I wouldn’t know Jesus without the people in my life who have helped me understand the wind, who created pressure that lifted me up. Like the wind is made up of small molecules, the wind that lifts my spirit is made up of all the people who keep me connected to the anchor. There are my parents, of course. Teachers, friends, camp counselors, ministers, poets, musicians, artists, actors, authors, children. There are the members of the church I grew up in, and the members of this church. My line has grown long, and I can almost see beyond horizons. Let us help one another to stay connected as we take flight. Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah (New York: Dell Publishing, 1977), p. 119.

[3] Psalm 46:10.

While He Was Blessing Them

May 16, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Ephesians 1:15-23; Luke 24:44-53[1]

The tomb was empty and Jesus, alive again, appeared to the disciples. Then, Luke tells us, “While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.”[2] Jesus the person was gone. Their last memory of him was not the frightening night in the garden when the soldiers came. It was not the horror of the crucifixion. It was not even the confusion and bewilderment of Easter morning. When he withdrew from them at last, their memory was of his blessing, a blessing that didn’t end but continued even as he left.

Parting from those we love, saying goodbye, is never easy. We’re often standing beside the hospital bed, holding a hand that is colder than before, blinking back tears as we try to express our love in some meaningful way. Other times, we hear the news over the phone that breaks our hearts. What a contrast, then, for Jesus to leave them with hearts full of joy and wonder, blessing them without ceasing. Perhaps they knew by the way he left that the blessing would never stop, that just because they could no longer see him did not mean he was no longer with them.

There is a sense that the departure of Jesus opened, rather than closed, a chapter in the story. The first part is over, but the story continues, and now is carried forward by the apostles. The new church continues the mission, now with people who will believe not because they have seen Jesus, but because they have seen his followers and heard the witness of those who have been blessed.

In a very real way, a new chapter does begin, since the author of Luke continued the story in the Acts of the Apostles. The main character of the Gospel has left the stage, but the new characters take on the lead. New figures emerge, strong leaders in their own right such as Paul. The stage expands, pulling back from Jerusalem and Galilee to reveal a wider world that will include Turkey, Greece, and Italy, and eventually circle the globe.

It was with immeasurable hope that the apostles went from Bethany to Jerusalem, and beyond. They had been reminded in their last moments together of all that had come to pass. Their minds had been opened to understand the scriptures in a new way, in light of the crucifixion and the resurrection, the suffering and the renewal. They would continue the mission of Christ transformed by the renewal of their spirits, and soon by the continual presence of the Holy Spirit.

They would need the help. The apostles would encounter resistance to their message, bitterness and resentment from those who had been their friends and families. They would face persecution from their religious leaders and from the Roman government. They would weather stormy seas, be imprisoned, harassed and even killed. But they would not give up; they would endure because of that blessing by the departing Christ that continues to bless the church even today.

“He withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.”[3] There is in that vision a powerful pull on our souls. We no longer think of heaven as being physically above us, up in the clouds somewhere, over the moon and behind the sun. We do, however, hold on to that upward vision in our spirits and our hearts. As Yale professor Thomas Troeger wrote in a commentary on this text, “The direction ‘up’ may have left our cosmology, but it has never left our souls.”[4]

Think of how we use the word up. Rise up. Look up at the stars. Get up on your feet. Stand up for what is right. Reach up to what is next. Lift every voice and sing. When I look up to the hills, where my hope comes... The hope that leads us upward and onward is the hope that keeps calling to us, keeps beckoning us to reach beyond what we are to what we will become.

Like a long steady climb up the mountain, we are on an upward trajectory. As we go, we may stumble, but we get up, dust ourselves off, and walk on. There will be rivers and streams, troubled waters to cross, and perilous footholds, but we’ll make it across if we keep our heads up. The night may fall, bringing shadows and darkness to hide the path; but, if we look up to the stars, we can find a way. What keeps us going, what helps us overcome, is that which rises within us from the spirit that lifts us up.

Where do we go from here? There is nowhere to go but up! Though Jesus withdrew from them, on the way up he continued to bless them. As our ancestors have withdrawn from us, they continue to bless us on our journey. Keep your chin up. There may be a long way to go. The way may be difficult. But as we go, we continue to receive the ceaseless blessing of Christ empowering us to minister to one another and to a world in need of blessing. With the eyes of your heart enlightened, may you know what is the hope to which God has called you, the fullness of him who fills all in all.  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Luke 24:51.

[3] Luke 24:51.

[4] Thomas H. Troeger, Homiletical Perspective on Luke 24:44-53 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, Vol. 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), p. 523.

As I Have Loved You

May 9, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 15:9-17[1]

This section of John’s gospel is known as the Farewell Discourses. Jesus was preparing the disciples to carry on without him. They had eaten what would be their last supper. Jesus had washed their feet, setting for them the example of servanthood. Betrayal and denial had been foretold. And he had given them a new commandment: love one another. It was a deeply contemplative moment.

The lands of Israel and Judea are a crossroads, a hub for the mixing of cultures. The Jewish people had been conquered again and again, by the Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, and now the Romans. New ideas and philosophies had been introduced from these and other cultures, and likely influenced the thinking of many teachers. It is entirely possible that a metaphysical conversation among the disciples of Jesus would have included the ideas of Aristotle, philosopher of ancient Greece.

Aristotle’s writings had covered many subjects, from physics and psychology to music and theatre. His discussion of ethics and virtues synthesized the various philosophies existing prior to him. Aristotle took the virtues—such as justice, courage, temperance, and so on—to be central to a well-lived life. He regarded the ethical virtues as the skills for human well-being.

On that evening together with Jesus, the disciples would have been connecting all that they had learned and experienced, forming the ethic of love which would be the core of the new Christian faith. As one commentary explains, love became for them a theological virtue, “an excellence of character that God has by nature and in which we participate by grace. Such love is primarily interested in the good of the other person, rather than one’s own.”[2] In response to the question of how humans should best live, Jesus distills the virtues into the principle of divine love.

Love can be an ambiguous term, particularly since it is a single English word used as the translation of several Greek words, each of which has shades of meaning. In this passage, the word used is agapē, the unselfish love of God. Agape love is kind and generous. It only desires good things for the other.

The commandment of Jesus is that the disciples’ relationships to one another should be like their relationship to Jesus, which in turn finds its ultimate expression in the relationship of Jesus and God. Their love for one another should be like the wondrous love they have known from God through Jesus.

This kind of love, agape love is truly concerned about the well-being of others. It is not possessive or dominating, allowing space for the other to be, just as they are. And, it is unending, not limited by time and space, but abundant and always ready to be given.

We might think of this agape love as the love of a lifetime. Like other virtues, love takes time and discipline to develop, to become a habit of care and concern. Jesus describes this love as being so deeply woven into our lives that we might lay down our lives for it.

As Aristotle described the method of gaining the virtues, he suggested the best way to integrate a particular virtue is to emulate those who already embody it. If you want to be of great courage, learn to live like one who demonstrates courage. Follow them, watch what they do, how they interact with the world. And the process of learning will be most successful when we become friends with those whose lives we seek to emulate.

I am like my friends. You are too. We adopt certain characteristics—both good and bad—from our friends. We are known by the company we keep. I learned this informally, intuitively, as my friendships developed over the years. I remember forming certain friendships because I wanted to become like that other person. And I have let friendships die because they became destructive of who I wanted to be.

Aristotle described three kinds of friendship. There are friendships that are useful; they allow us to make business connections or get into a particular social group. Other friendships are pleasurable; we enjoy hanging out with one another. The third kind of friendship—the best kind—is for the sake of friendship itself. This kind of friendship is formative: we become like one another. In this way, a true friend who loves as God loves will, in time, teach us how to love as God loves.

The disciples were following Jesus, learning from Jesus, because they wanted to become like Jesus. They wanted to live lives of great love, self-sacrificing love, agape love. They had been servants, followers, students. Now, as Jesus prepared them for his departure, he brought them to another level. No longer servants, but friends. No longer subordinates, but equal partners. Jesus chose them, and brought them into his being, to abide in love.

When Jesus said, “You are my friends,” he was describing the formative kind of friendship that Aristotle called the best kind. They had learned to love Jesus as the best kind of friend. They had learned to love one another as Jesus had loved them. They had become more than companions or fellow students. They had become true friends, learning from one another how to embody agape love.

We are called into this kind of relationship with one another. We are invited into a friendship with Jesus and those who embody the love of Jesus. And more than that: through our relationship with Christ, we enter into the agape love of God. We may not be able to imagine being friends with God. It is perhaps incomprehensible to think of becoming like God in the way that we love. But in the person of Jesus, we can begin to understand this friendship. In the course of a lifetime, we can take on God’s characteristics as our own—and love one another as God loves us. My friends in Christ, love one another as Jesus loves you.  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] David S Cunningham, Theological Perspective on John 15:9-17 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, Vol. 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), p. 498.

Branches of the Vine

May 2, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 15:1-8[1]

There is a powerful myth in our culture. It developed in the 1860’s, parallel with the development of the real thing, and has influenced our thinking ever since. It is the myth of the cowboy, the hardworking individual who wanted nothing from the government but to be left alone to work out his own future. Responsible for herding cattle and other livestock, the work of a cowboy was hard, often lonely, and an individual had to fend for himself much of the time. The idea of the self-made man who didn’t need help from anyone was largely a fiction, cultivated by Wild West shows and stories like the Lone Ranger.

What’s missing from the image of the rugged individual cowboy is the interconnection with a wider world. The open ranchland of the West was empty only because the Army had driven off the Natives. The cowboys were hired by a few wealthy ranchers, and didn’t own the cattle themselves. The railways that brought the cattle to market in the East were subsidized by the federal government. The day-to-day life of a cowboy might seem to be a solo act, but he depended on others, even if those connections were over the horizon.

We celebrate individualism, the ability of a person to make it on their own, to rise up in the world due only to their own hard work. When we do things with others, when we act in community, we tend to see that as outside of the central focus of our lives. We might be part of the church, but that’s just once a week on Sundays. We might get together with a club or a group for an occasional activity, but that’s separate from taking care of ourselves and our families on our own.

In contrast to this imagery, this parable told by Jesus suggests a living, growing community of faith; thriving because it is connected. A branch alone, without the vine, is just a stick. It is by being connected to the vine that the branch takes part in the production of fruit. Each branch of the vine is part of the whole, and “cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine.”[2] The vine is planted and tended by the vine-grower, cleaned and pruned in order to produce good fruit. The health of the branches and the quality of the fruit depends on the providence and goodness of God, the vine-grower.

In the time when John wrote this Gospel, the community was in a precarious situation. Those who chose to follow Jesus were viewed with suspicion in the eyes of the religious authorities, and risked being cast out of society. To be excommunicated, without home, land, or family, was a shameful fate. Community was the only sure way to survive.

In this context, the metaphor of branches connected to the vine of Christ brought comfort and security to John’s community. God, the vine-grower, will tend to our needs and ensure our survival. The image of a vine planted and cared for by God came from their history as the people of Israel, yet they had failed to bear the fruit of justice, compassion, and love. Here, Jesus declares “I am the true vine,”[3] intimately connected to God, giver and sustainer of life. The true vine connects the branches and entrusts their care to the vine-grower.

Vines have to be tended, cleaned and pruned to ensure the branches bear fruit. Branches that are cut off from the vine do not grow. As long as the branches remain connected to the vine, they will grow and produce. It is the community, the interconnection that causes us to grow and flourish. So long as we trust in our relationship with God through Jesus, we are able to live and love.

The connection with one another and with God is nourished by the church, but isn’t limited to our presence in this building. The fruit that we bear can be found wherever we live as disciples, with love and justice guiding our relationships with others. The work that we do in the world, whether distributing food to hungry people, giving money to help community organizations, taking care of the elderly, the sick, and the poor, or the building of connections with others, that is the fruit that we bear.

Whatever that fruit, whatever work that we do as disciples, it starts with our relationship with Jesus. “Abide in me as I abide in you.”[4] Jesus lives in us as we live with and for each other, with love. The Christian life begins in love and is lived out in love. “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you.”[5] It is the love of Jesus, who first called us, that sprouts within us bringing us to live. “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”[6] That is our task, the fruit that we are to bear: love that shows the world the love of God for all of us and for all creation.

In order to be a fruitful community, we must allow what is not love- and life-giving to be pruned away. As branches of the true vine, we should be known by our interdependence, our respect for the growth and goodness of others, and our concern for the flourishing of the whole vineyard. The love that began and continues to guide our lives as disciples, the love that comes from God through Christ, let it be the fruit that nourishes the world.  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] John 15:4.

[3] John 15:1.

[4] John 15:4.

[5] John 15:9.

[6] John 15:12.