One of my favorite hymns, of which there are many, that I haven’t been able to get out of my head this week is “Abide with Me.” It’s a haunting beautiful hymn, written by an Anglican priest in the early 1800s who was with his dying friend, and he kept repeating Jesus’ words to his friends in the garden, “abide with me.” He would die shortly after himself, and the words of his hymn would go on to provide a comfort and balm in times of dis-ease, grief, and even joy as it has been used throughout history; it was used in the wedding of Queen Elizabeth II, was arranged for a jazz performance featuring John Coltrane, and Alfred, Lord Tennyson is said to have ranked it among “the perfect poems of our language.” It is a gorgeous work, and opens with the first verse: “Abide with me; fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide. When other helpers fail and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.”
In our Epistle Lesson for today, John poses a question that, in connection with this hymn, has left me feeling convicted about what it means for God’s love to abide with us, and what this love requires of us. In the second verse of our epistle lesson, and if you want to refer to your bulletin and follow along, it may be helpful, “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” It is a convicting question. Is it possible for someone to have the capacity to materially resolve the problems of someone in need and refuse to do so—is it possible for the love of God to abide in them?
Y’all, that’s harsh. If you feel yourself coming up with rationales for why things are different now or of scenarios where this doesn’t apply, I understand. But I do think we should take it seriously, even if it makes us squirm just a bit. Because John clearly knows the question is harsh when he follows it up with “little children” and invites the hearers of the letter to love not just in word and speech, but in truth and action. If God’s love abides in us, our love will not be a love in name only but will be a love that can be seen and felt before a label can be put on it.
There is perhaps no pain like being in real and deep need, whether it’s emotional, spiritual, physical, or financial and having those needs met with empty platitudes of generic love and messages of grace when it is not backed by any sort of real compassion. I have heard stories of bishops in the church who would frequently tell the clergy in their diocese that they loved them but when it came to supporting their emotional and spiritual needs, that love came up empty. Love that is hollow is a waste of time, and I’m convinced that this life is too short. Solid love, love that costs us something is the only thing that is worth it.
A solid love that abides with God takes up space in our lives and demands that our words are followed by actions seems like it may be more work than a hollow, cheap love that seems easy on the surface, but it’s like ladling soup out of a full pot verses a nearly empty one. When God’s love abides within us, our pot is full and it’s not hard to dish out transformative love in word and speech and action and truth, but when God’s love does not abide within us and we are flying solo, we are at the dregs, and we are able to give but a little, it costs us so much more to give so much less.
My friends—little children—there is no doubt that God is calling us to love radically, but what I don’t want you to take away from this sermon is that if you can’t solve all of the world’s problems then God’s love doesn’t abide with you. Rather, that you hear John’s words as an invitation to think critically about how you interact with the world through the lens of God’s abiding love that resides within you. John tells the people that this sort of transformative love is known not just in word and speech, but in truth and action, and so I have three invitations for you over this next week:
- Find a way in which to fundamentally abide in God’s love. Maybe this is a long walk, time of silence, a painting session, or time playing music. Rest and receive God’s unfailing transforming love and do it for longer than you think your schedule allows.
- Pay attention to opportunities to show God’s love to others in truth and action. It doesn’t have to be grand; it can be as simple as a silent prayer said as you pass someone in the grocery store or contributing to some known need. It can be in your own family, or strangers, a long-time friend, or an acquaintance, but find at least one tangible, actionable way to express the God’s love that abides within you to others.
- Remember that you, too, are deserving of God’s love. Find a way to make space to show yourself a love that God feels for you. Maybe this action is as simple as putting your hand over your heart in a quiet moment and reciting another part of “Abide with Me”: “I need They presence every passing hour./What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?/Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.”
We are called, my friends, to a sort of radical love that is only possible when God abides with us. My invitation for us all is that we pay attention to how this sort of transformative love stems from a place of God’s love abiding within us in our relationship to God, to others, and to ourselves.
May God’s love abide with us all.
A sermon delivered to the people of Christ Episcopal Church in Bowling Green, Kentucky for Easter 4B on April 21, 2024 on 1 John 3: 16-24.
Becca Kello 