"Real Love… Talking About That Real Love”

Sermon Title: “Real Love… Talking About That Real Love”

Scripture: John 17:20–26 (The Message)

Occasion: Cumberland UMC, 1st Sunday in June 2025

The Message

20-23 I’m praying not only for them But also for those who will believe in me Because of them and their witness about me.

The goal is for all of them to become one heart and mind—

Just as you, Father, are in me and I in you, So they might be one heart and mind with us. Then the world might believe that you, in fact, sent me. The same glory you gave me, I gave them,

So they’ll be as unified and together as we are— I in them and you in me. Then they’ll be mature in this oneness, And give the godless world evidence That you’ve sent me and loved them In the same way you’ve loved me.

24-26 Father, I want those you gave me To be with me, right where I am,

So they can see my glory, the splendor you gave me,

Having loved me Long before there ever was a world.

Righteous Father, the world has never known you,

But I have known you, and these disciples know

That you sent me on this mission. I have made your very being known to them— Who you are and what you do— And continue to make it known, So that your love for me Might be in them

Exactly as I am in them.

Introduction:

Beloved, we gather today not just in worship, but in witness. Jesus prays in John 17—not just for the disciples beside Him, but for us, those who would come to believe through their witness. That’s real love. Not temporary. Not performative. Real love is legacy love. Transformative love. Love that acts and lasts.

And on this first Sunday in June, as the Earth groans under the weight of climate change, pollution, and human greed, we are called to ask: What does real love sound like when it’s talking about the Earth? How often do we read a news headline and hear that the Earth is once again crying out? This Eastertide, we have seen that the suffering of the Earth is not just an issue that involves one demographic or another—it truly is about all of us. What is beautiful in Revelation 22 is that the city gates are open to everyone. As we consider what to do about summers getting hotter, storms becoming more violent, crops failing more often, and the people and creatures who are suffering the worst of these consequences, we must realize that the centerpiece of this city is the Tree of Life. At this tree, we find our sustenance and are made a part of God's New Creation. What does it mean to be one with Christ and also one with creation?

There are three rules that every Methodist tries to keep The Three Simple Rules for Methodists, as outlined by John Wesley, are: Do No Harm, Do Good, and Attend to the Ordinances of God (or Stay in Love with God). These rules serve as a guide for living a life that is both socially and spiritually fulfilling.

I often think back on this one unforgettable moment from my childhood—especially when reflecting on the good-hearted but sometimes questionable methods of those who raised me with love, tradition, and a dash of old-school healing.

Now, I know without a doubt that my Grandmother and her sister—my Grand Aunt Baby—loved me deeply. These were women of strong faith, stronger opinions, and a belief that between Jesus and a little clay&moss, anything could be cured. Around the time I was 12, I was having some serious asthma and seizures. So, in their wisdom, they decided it was time to turn to "the old ways." And by “old ways,” I mean something that could’ve been featured on an episode of “Extreme Home Remedies.”

The plan? Simple. Find a tree, take an ax, make a ceremonial cut above my head, stuff it with a moss mixture, and when I grew tall enough to reach the mark—poof!—no more breathing problems. I guess it was part medicine, part prophecy, part horticulture.

Now here’s where things got interesting.

See, my grandmother stood about 5'9", and Aunt Baby was maybe 5'7" on a good day. Sweet women, but neither had swung an ax in a while—let alone aimed it near the crown of a growing boy's skull.

And me? I was already pushing six feet at age 12. Apparently, the math wasn’t mathing.

So there we were, in the yard, Aunt Baby gripping the ax like she was Moses about to split the Red Sea. My grandmother was holding my head still, whispering something about “the spirit of the tree” and “the breath of the ancestors.” And just when that ax started its sacred swing...