John 16:22 "In the same way, you are now filled with grief, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy."
The gentle spring sunlight beckoned me yesterday, coaxing me into a long-awaited walk after weeks of staying indoors. Knowing that the Wednesday service would soon limit my attendance at young adult worship, I set my path from home to Trinity Chapel, a journey both physical and contemplative. With each step, my legs—once resilient companions during my running days—now whispered their protest. This unexpected fatigue invited a moment of reckoning, a tender confrontation with myself. I felt a pang of regret for this body I had neglected, while memories of more active days stirred within me, urging a reconsideration of my current habits.
As I traversed Berkeley's familiar streets, I was struck by the city's remarkable evolution. New structures reached skyward where empty lots once stood, and freshly paved roads stretched before me like black ribbons. Though America often bears the reputation of unhurried progress, Berkeley defies this notion with its ceaseless transformation. Witnessing such dynamic change prompted an uncomfortable question: Have I become someone who clings to stagnation while the world marches forward? This thought quickened my stride as I approached the sanctuary where young adults would soon gather.
Today's scripture from John speaks to Jesus' impending absence—the profound trajectory of crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension that awaited His disciples. His departure would bring salvation's joy to the world while leaving His closest followers in the depths of sorrow. Yet within this painful paradox, Jesus offers the assurance that their grief, though real, will metamorphose into joy—a joy so profound that nothing and no one could ever diminish it.
Life often presents us with such contrasts; identical circumstances may evoke celebration in some and lamentation in others. Though not universal, this pattern weaves through much of human experience. Have you noticed how joy's bright moments often fade quickly from memory, while worries linger like unwelcome shadows? Anxiety typically springs not from present reality but from imagined futures: "What if this happens?" These speculative fears can engulf us, their power amplified by our temperaments and environments.
The early church, when John's Gospel took form, likely wrestled with similar apprehensions. Into their uncertainty, Jesus speaks words of bold promise: "You may be filled with grief now, but when you see me again, your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy."
This phrase—"when you see me again"—may point toward Christ's eventual return, but it equally embraces the moment when the Holy Spirit, our promised Helper, comes to dwell within us.
The ancient Christian greeting, "Rejoice!" carries more than mere optimism—it embodies the profound reality that the Holy Spirit abides with us always. This divine presence transforms our sorrow into unspeakable joy, a joy immune to theft or erosion.
Today's wind blows with determination, sweeping winter's remnants away and ushering in spring's renewal. May this same wind carry our anxieties into the distance and fill our hearts with joy's refreshing breeze.
Reflection
We have more reasons for joy than we do for sorrow.
Intercessory Prayer Requests
There are two vacant seats for the group flight for the upcoming Turkey-Greece pilgrimage. Please pray that we may find people quickly.
Last week's small group meeting went well, and the mission support agreement is progressing smoothly. Please pray that everything continues to go well without any difficulties.
Pastor Yoon Ji-eun has an issue with an expanded blood vessel behind her eye and will need vascular reduction surgery. She is meeting with a specialist today for a consultation—please pray for a smooth and successful process.
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