In the name of the risen Lord. Amen. Please be seated.
Today I brought with me something that is rather special to me that I want to show you.
Some of you who know me know that I love Celtic spirituality. And this is a Celtic cross.
But I don't know where I got this. I've been using it as a bookmark for some time. Maybe
somebody here knows where I got it. It says on the back, there is a mother's heart in
the heart of God. There is a mother's heart in the heart of God. I've always loved those
words because they say something about the God that we meet in scripture. Now that God
is not literally male or female. The mystery of God is bigger than all those human categories.
But scripture constantly reaches for images that help us to understand the love of God.
For instance, some things that we call God, shepherd, father, mother hen, healer, comforter,
protector. Maybe you can think of a few more that come to your mind. And sometimes the
closest thing we have in our experience to the steadfast love of God is the love of someone
who mothered us. By this I don't just mean our own mother, but perhaps someone who stayed.
Someone who comforted us. Someone who believed in us. Someone who loved us through every
stage of our life, no matter what, including the difficult ones. And today's reading, in
the sixth Sunday of Easter, speak deeply about this kind of presence. In the gospel from
John, Jesus tells his disciples, I will not leave you orphaned. Think about that. Jesus
knows the disciples are afraid. The cross is near. Everything familiar is changing.
And Jesus does not promise them an easy life. Dang, I wish that would have been it. He does
not promise them that there is not going to be suffering, that there is not going to be
pain. Instead, he promises presence. I will not leave you orphaned. I will send you the
advocate, the Holy Spirit, the comforter. The comforter will remain with them. And honestly,
that sounds a little bit like the best kind of mothering love. Not contrary. Not contrary.
Not trolling. Not smothering. But abiding. You are not alone. I am with you. You can
make it through this. Many mothers know exactly what this kind of love looks like. Things
like sitting awake at night worrying. Did they make the right decision? Are they going
to be home on time? Holding a child through sickness. Praying when nobody else sees it.
Encouraging someone who has lost confidence. Standing beside a family member in difficult
times. Love itself becomes a kind of shelter, could we say. And Jesus says, that is how
God loves us. I will not leave you orphaned. Then we hear Paul in Athens in the reading
from Acts. Paul walks through the city filled with idols and notices an altar with an inscription
that says, to an unknown God. And Paul tells them that the God they are searching for is
actually very near. In him we live and move and have our being. That is one of the most
beautiful lines in all of scripture. God is not distant. God is not up there. God is not
hidden away somewhere far, away from our human suffering. God is closer than our breath.
Closer than fear. Closer even than our uncertainty. And perhaps mothers understand something about
that too. A loving mother often knows when something is wrong, even if it is not their
word being spoken. You don't have to be a mother to know that. You just need to be in
tune, present. There is a closeness, an attentiveness, a staying connected through joy and pain.
And then 1 Peter reminds us that Christian love and goodness is not always easy. And
did you know that? Peter speaks to people who are suffering, people trying to remain
faithful in a difficult world. He says, always be ready to give an account for the hope that
is in you. Yet do it with gentleness and reverence. Not cruelly, not with arrogance, but with
gentleness. Not with self-righteousness. Not shouting louder than anybody else or talking
over. That may be one of the most needed Christian values in our world right now. And honestly
many of us learn gentleness from our mothers, from our grandmothers, from our aunts, from
our uncles, from our fathers, from our friends. People who taught us kindness. People who
corrected us without destroying us. People who showed us strength does not have to come
from harshness or hardness. The psalm today says, come and listen all you who fear God
and I will tell you what God has done for me. Hmm, that sounds a little bit like testimony.
But it also sounds like gratitude. It's on his lips. It sounds like someone remembering
how God carried them through difficult times. And if you listen carefully, many mothers
carry those same stories. We all carry those stories. Stories of prayers whispered over
children. Stories of surviving hard times. Stories of holding families together when
life felt uncertain and we didn't know how. And so today, on Mother's Day, we are going
to honor not perfection, not the perfect mother we woulda, coulda, shoulda, wanted, been,
and all those things, but holy love. We honor those who reflected the heart of God through
compassion, sacrifice, encouragement, and steadfast presence. And we also acknowledge
that it can be very complicated, this love. It's messy and chaotic. Some are grieving
their mothers that they miss so deeply today. Some relationships carry pain and power struggle.
Some long to become mothers and could not. Some mothers are exhausted or worried and
heartbroken right now. So today is not about pretending that this is an easy story. It's
about recognizing that God meets us in all of it, all of the messiness, all of the chaos,
all of the love, and all of the pain. Because this God revealed to us is not a distant God
and is not a cold God. This is a God who says, I will not leave you orphaned. A God whom
we live and move and have our being. A God who calls us to gentleness. A God who stays
with us through joy and suffering. And maybe, just maybe, our call today is not only to
honor our mothers, but to become more like that mothering love. Not male or female or
other. You see, to become people, we are to become people who nurture hope. People who
remain present. People who comfort instead of condemn. People who make room for others
to belong. The world needs that kind of love so desperately right now. I brought a picture
with me today. And sorry I didn't show you my bookmark, did I? I'll get back to you guys.
This is a picture of my mom and I. I'm going to put it over here. You can take a peek.
This picture was taken when Doug and I got married. I love this picture of my mom. But
mostly because the both of us are looking at each other and we're smiling. We have champagne
in our hands. Good memories. I do not know what we were smiling or laughing about or
who took the picture or who gave it to me. But it is one of my most cherished pictures.
This is a mom who loved me unconditionally. A mom who was present in all those hard times
and all those challenges. A mom who forgave me. And I needed forgiveness lots of times.
A mom who was present. And this joy is genuine joy. And it helps me to remember that I was
there. I remember all of these things I just said when I looked at this picture. I remember
her gentleness. I remember mostly her presence. And so, the good news of Easter, my friends,
is this. We are not alone. We don't have to try to figure it out. We can learn to figure
it out. We can live it with God no further than a breath away. The spirit remains with
us. Our holy comforter. Our advocate. May we live and know that God is with us in our
very being. Amen.