Sermon Text: John 16:16-24
Date: May 25, 2025
Event: The Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year C [Confirmation Sunday]
John 16:16-24 (EHV)
“In a little while you are not going to see me anymore, and again in a little while you will see me, because I am going away to the Father.”
17Therefore some of his disciples asked one another, “What does he mean when he tells us, ‘In a little while you are not going to see me, and again in a little while you will see me,’ and ‘Because I am going away to the Father’?” 18So they kept asking, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’? We don’t understand what he’s saying.”
19Jesus knew that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you trying to determine with one another what I meant by saying, ‘In a little while you are not going to see me, and again in a little while you will see me’? 20Amen, Amen, I tell you: You will weep and wail, but the world will rejoice. You will become sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn to joy. 21A woman giving birth has pain, because her time has come. But when she has delivered the child, she no longer remembers the anguish, because of her joy that a person has been born into the world.
22“So you also have sorrow now. But I will see you again. Your heart will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you. 23In that day you will not ask me anything. Amen, Amen, I tell you: Whatever you ask the Father in my name, he will give you. 24Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask, and you will receive, so that your joy may be made complete.”
Has Your Sorrow Turned to Joy?
That night in the upper room, just before Jesus was betrayed, he had many heavy and difficult things to share with his disciples. Last week we heard that command to love one another, and noted that that would be their guiding life principle in the difficult hours ahead, but more to the point, in the years ahead as they would clearly live their lives as Christians, loving to all, in this fallen world.
This morning, we jump to a later part of the conversation that night. Here, in many ways, he’s directing them to the coming 48 or 72 hours—in a little while you are not going to see me anymore, and again in a little while you will see me—a reminder that their separation from Jesus by his death on the cross was near at hand, but that there would also be a joyous reunion after his resurrection. Jesus summarizes the emotional rollercoaster they will be on this way: Amen, Amen, I tell you: You will weep and wail, but the world will rejoice. You will become sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn to joy.
Why would the disciples’ sorrow be turned to joy? Well, in the short term, the sorrow caused by the death of their dear friend and teacher would be turned to joy at his resurrection, even if they had some pit stops at doubt and astonishment. And the more they understood about Jesus’ work, the deeper the Holy Spirit’s work in their hearts, they would understand that this was not just the restoration of the life of a friend but actually the forgiveness of sins and the promise of eternal life for all people. That joy would continue to grow and multiply as it was shared.
But before we get too far into this, this might be a good time to talk about the difference between “joy” and “happiness.” Both are emotional states, but joy is the more profound, more deeply rooted emotion. Happiness might be flashy—it might have the most clear outward expressions, but it can be more fleeting. I can be happy in the morning and kind of bummed by the afternoon, even if there’s no real reason for it.
But joy is based on contentment. Joy is more stable. And while we think of rejoicing as outbursts of positivity, it’s not always like that. Joy might fill a parent’s heart as they see their child get their diploma, even if there’s not a lot of whooping and hollering. After a long, productive day, you’re probably exhausted. Slumped on the couch before admitting to yourself that you should just go to bed, happiness might not be the best word to describe your state. But if you look around the house and see the work that was accomplished that day, or you think through all things you saw or did when out and about, you might be filled with a quiet, contented joy, just before you nod off.
I don’t think it goes too far, as we explore this distinction, to say that Jesus was not filled with happiness to go to the cross. His desperate pleading with the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane to let the cup of suffering pass by him would point to a lack of excitement over the plan. But the goal, the salvation of mankind, well, that filled Jesus with joy. Thus, his prayer to the Father was not merely to avoid this upcoming suffering, but that his Father’s will be done. Jesus shared that goal, and since there was no other way to save us, he joyfully went to his suffering and death, even if he wasn’t doing cartwheels on the way to Golgatha.
That’s to say that when Jesus promises the disciples their sorrows will be turned to joy, he does not mean they will be perpetually giddy like little children. We know that there will be difficulties; we’ve ever read about some of those in our first readings from the book of Acts during this Easter season. And how much those difficulties would have been magnified because this “again in a little while you will see me” would be short-lived! We will observe and celebrate Jesus' ascension next Sunday, which would have been only 40 days after Easter. They would see him again, and then he would be removed from their sight once more, but not just for a couple of evenings in the tomb.
Which brings us to today. How often does it feel like we’re in a perpetual time of not seeing Jesus anymore? Sure, we have his words in the Scriptures, we have the Holy Spirit dwelling within us, but I think we might sympathize with Thomas more often than not. “Oh, Lord, if I could just see you, speak to you directly, maybe even put my finger where those nails were, I would be comforted.” Yet he remains hidden from our eyes.
Hardships, heartaches, and losses just compound this feeling that Jesus isn’t here or doesn’t care. To us, it makes sense that if I’m the dearly loved child of God, my life should be overflowing with peace, joy, and even happiness. But is it? Even if we’re being honest when we describe our lives as “fine” or even “good,” they’re never perfect. There’s always something that could be better, some hope left unfulfilled, some change we’d make in an instant if we could just snap our fingers and make it different.
Sin brings immense sorrow to this life. Whether it’s my sin, which leads me to spend restless nights stewing in my guilt, other people’s sins that have wronged me, or just the general sadness that comes from living in this corrupted, sinful world, sorrow is our constant companion.
The disappointment and frustration that accompany sorrow can easily lead to seeking someone to blame. Perhaps I blame myself and the mistakes that I’ve made or the opportunities I didn’t take advantage of. Maybe I start blaming other people for their roles in what I find to be a very sorrowful situation. And, often, the blame finger can even point at God. After all, he’s all-powerful and supposedly all-loving; if I’m trapped in a situation I hate or regret or wish were very different, doesn’t the One who is in control of all things bear responsibility for this?
And here we see just how far our sinful selves fall—and how quickly! We’ve gone from sadness to blaming God for the things in our lives that aren’t as we think they should be. And if we take a step back, I hope and pray we can see just how dangerous and reckless a place that is to be.
However, this template of sorrow leading to joy can also be applied to us. Has your sorrow been turned to joy? If we look back on our lives, we can probably recall times when we were at our lowest, but by God’s grace, we’ve come out of those depths. The disappointments may not have the edge they once did, the losses are duller than they initially were, and we have found some contentment in the way God has shepherded us through these times.
Or perhaps those hardships are still very much a part of your life. Maybe that sorrow sits like a sandbag on your shoulders, pushing you down. And in that, Satan sees and often tries to seize the opportunity to drive us from God. Because those thoughts of blaming God for dissatisfaction in my life find their root in him, the father of lies. He plays the same card that he played on Adam and Eve in the beginning, trying to convince us that God is holding out on us, that he doesn’t have our best interests in mind, that really, these things I lack or the problems I have are God’s fault.
So our prayer to God this morning is that he pull us back from those sorrows. Maybe it’s not his will to remove the things that cause them, but that he pull us back to gain some perspective that’s easy to lose in the depths of these sorrows. “Yes, I have this hardship or lack that blessing, but what do I have for certain?” Jesus says, “Let me show you.”
And so he takes us back to his cross to see our sins paid for—even the sins of blaming God for our sorrows and dissatisfactions—completely forgiven by his suffering and death in our place. Then we journey again to the empty tomb, to see the certainty of that forgiveness. Christ is risen indeed, after all. Sin, death, and hell have no hold on us. You, dear Christian, have forgiveness. You have the certainty of eternal life with your Savior. You have a peace and joy that goes beyond all human, natural understanding and comes only through the Holy Spirit’s work within you.
This morning, we have a joyful reminder of these blessings as we celebrate Ava’s confirmation. Her essay, while summarizing many of the things she has learned and become convinced of through the Spirit’s work in her heart, will also serve as a reminder for you and me. Because what is true for Ava is true for all of us. And God’s love is what turns our sorrow back to joy.
But what might be lacking in this journey is a removal of that thing that was causing the sorrow and discontent in the first place. Maybe that hardship won’t be taken away; maybe that longed-for blessing will never be given to me. This is not God’s cruelty or desire to see us sad; rather, it is his care for us that goes beyond what we can see; it is his will for us that looks out for our eternal well-being above all else; his love for us that promises to work all things for our eternal good, even when we can’t see or understand what that good is. Like Paul with his thorn in the flesh, Jesus’ answer to our pleading may not be to remove the hardship, but rather a reminder that his grace is sufficient for us, his power is made complete in our weaknesses (2 Corinthians 12:7-10).
You, my dear sisters and brothers, are also a blessing to one another in these things. Jesus’ direction to love one another finds direct application here. My sorrow may be too much to bear on my own; I may not be able to see joy on the other end of that sadness. But you can help me. In your love for me, you can support me in my sorrow, whether it comes from loss or a lack of fulfillment, guilt or the pain of being wronged. Your love for me directs me back to my Savior, to my life, to my joy. And I, in turn, can love you with that very same purpose and goal.
The things that cause sorrow in this life will not end, but this life of sorrow will end. There will be a time (and from an eternal perspective, it will be just “a little while”) where we will see Jesus face to face in the perfect courts of heaven.
Until that day, love one another. Until that day, pray to your loving God in the name of your Savior, Jesus, for rescue and relief according to his will. Until that day, find joy in your Savior’s eternal love for you, which we will experience fully in the end.
My dear brothers and sisters, Christ is risen, he is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.
