Saint John I
18 May 2026
Living between fear and Pentecost
There is a strange tension in the readings today.
The disciples in the Gospel sound confident for the first time in a long time. “Now you are talking plainly,” they tell Jesus. “Now we realize that you know everything.” It almost sounds like they have finally arrived. After all the confusion and misunderstandings throughout John’s Gospel, they think they finally understand who Jesus is and what He has been saying.
And Jesus responds almost painfully:
“Do you believe now?”
Then He tells them what is about to happen. They will scatter. They will leave Him alone. Their confidence is not yet as strong as they think it is.
That is important for us to hear in these days after the Ascension because the Church now lives in that same tension. Christ has ascended to the Father. The visible earthly presence of Jesus is gone. The disciples are standing between what they think they understand and the reality of what they still must become.
They know enough to believe, but not yet enough to endure.
They are not fully ready for what comes next.
And honestly, neither are we most of the time.
Many Christians think faith means arriving at a place where fear disappears. But that is not how the New Testament describes discipleship.
Jesus does not tell them, “You will finally feel strong.” He tells them, “In the world you will have trouble.”
Not might. Will.
And He says it to men who are about to fail Him.
I think sometimes we imagine the Christian life as if holiness belongs to people who never struggle, never doubt, never grow tired, never panic, never stumble, never sin. But today’s Gospel gives us apostles who love Jesus sincerely and still scatter under pressure.
The Lord is not naïve about them.
He sees the weakness already forming in their hearts before they even recognize it themselves.
And yet He still chooses them.
That is one of the deepest consolations of the Gospel.
Jesus is not building His Church on perfect men. He is preparing weak men to become faithful through grace.
The strength will come, but not from themselves.
They are about to learn that courage is not self-confidence baptized with religious language. Christian courage comes from communion with Christ and from the Spirit He sends.
That is exactly what begins unfolding in Acts.
Paul arrives at Ephesus and encounters disciples who had received only the baptism of John. They were believers, but incomplete believers. They were standing in preparation but had not yet entered fulfillment.
So Paul baptizes them in the name of Jesus, lays hands on them, and the Holy Spirit comes upon them.
Confirmation.
Notice the movement.
The Gospel today shows disciples still weak and afraid before the full gift of the Spirit. Acts shows what begins happening when the life of the risen Christ is poured into the Church through the Spirit.
Not perfection. Transformation.
And even then, it happens gradually.
The Church this week stands spiritually in those same days of waiting and dependence. The apostles are no longer relying on the visible earthly companionship of Jesus. They are being taught to live by His presence in a deeper way. A hidden way. A sacramental way. A Spirit-filled way.
That is our life too.
Most of us want God to remove trouble immediately. Jesus instead prepares His disciples to remain faithful inside it.
“Take courage,” He says, “I have conquered the world.”
Not “you have conquered.”
He has.
That changes how we endure suffering, anxiety, disappointment, loneliness, even our own repeated failures. The victory of Christ does not mean Christians avoid hardship. It means hardship no longer has the final word.
The apostles will soon discover that. The martyrs discovered it. The saints discovered it. And ordinary Christians still discover it now in hospital rooms, in grief, in difficult marriages, in struggles against sin, in exhausting responsibilities, and in quiet perseverance nobody sees.
The peace Jesus gives is not the absence of conflict. It is His own life shared with His people while the conflict still rages around them.
And that is why the Church keeps moving toward Pentecost not with triumphalism, but with expectancy, humility, prayer, and dependence on God.
There is a strange tension in the readings today.
The disciples in the Gospel sound confident for the first time in a long time. “Now you are talking plainly,” they tell Jesus. “Now we realize that you know everything.” It almost sounds like they have finally arrived. After all the confusion and misunderstandings throughout John’s Gospel, they think they finally understand who Jesus is and what He has been saying.
And Jesus responds almost painfully:
“Do you believe now?”
Then He tells them what is about to happen. They will scatter. They will leave Him alone. Their confidence is not yet as strong as they think it is.
That is important for us to hear in these days after the Ascension because the Church now lives in that same tension. Christ has ascended to the Father. The visible earthly presence of Jesus is gone. The disciples are standing between what they think they understand and the reality of what they still must become.
They know enough to believe, but not yet enough to endure.
They are not fully ready for what comes next.
And honestly, neither are we most of the time.
Many Christians think faith means arriving at a place where fear disappears. But that is not how the New Testament describes discipleship.
Jesus does not tell them, “You will finally feel strong.” He tells them, “In the world you will have trouble.”
Not might. Will.
And He says it to men who are about to fail Him.
I think sometimes we imagine the Christian life as if holiness belongs to people who never struggle, never doubt, never grow tired, never panic, never stumble, never sin. But today’s Gospel gives us apostles who love Jesus sincerely and still scatter under pressure.
The Lord is not naïve about them.
He sees the weakness already forming in their hearts before they even recognize it themselves.
And yet He still chooses them.
That is one of the deepest consolations of the Gospel.
Jesus is not building His Church on perfect men. He is preparing weak men to become faithful through grace.
The strength will come, but not from themselves.
They are about to learn that courage is not self-confidence baptized with religious language. Christian courage comes from communion with Christ and from the Spirit He sends.
That is exactly what begins unfolding in Acts.
Paul arrives at Ephesus and encounters disciples who had received only the baptism of John. They were believers, but incomplete believers. They were standing in preparation but had not yet entered fulfillment.
So Paul baptizes them in the name of Jesus, lays hands on them, and the Holy Spirit comes upon them.
Confirmation.
Notice the movement.
The Gospel today shows disciples still weak and afraid before the full gift of the Spirit. Acts shows what begins happening when the life of the risen Christ is poured into the Church through the Spirit.
Not perfection. Transformation.
And even then, it happens gradually.
The Church this week stands spiritually in those same days of waiting and dependence. The apostles are no longer relying on the visible earthly companionship of Jesus. They are being taught to live by His presence in a deeper way. A hidden way. A sacramental way. A Spirit-filled way.
That is our life too.
Most of us want God to remove trouble immediately. Jesus instead prepares His disciples to remain faithful inside it.
“Take courage,” He says, “I have conquered the world.”
Not “you have conquered.”
He has.
That changes how we endure suffering, anxiety, disappointment, loneliness, even our own repeated failures. The victory of Christ does not mean Christians avoid hardship. It means hardship no longer has the final word.
The apostles will soon discover that. The martyrs discovered it. The saints discovered it. And ordinary Christians still discover it now in hospital rooms, in grief, in difficult marriages, in struggles against sin, in exhausting responsibilities, and in quiet perseverance nobody sees.
The peace Jesus gives is not the absence of conflict. It is His own life shared with His people while the conflict still rages around them.
And that is why the Church keeps moving toward Pentecost not with triumphalism, but with expectancy, humility, prayer, and dependence on God.