Today, that long farewell teaching turns into prayer. Let’s take a moment to picture what is happening. Jesus and the disciples have been in the upper room together for a while now. He has washed their feet, demonstrating servanthood. Judas, who would betray him later that evening, has departed. Jesus has been speaking to his disciples, fully aware of the events about to unfold—even though they do not yet understand.

Now, he lifts his eyes toward heaven and begins speaking directly to God—not privately, but aloud, so they can hear. But this time, he’s not teaching. He’s praying. A prayer that continues for the entire chapter—sometimes called the “high priestly prayer.”

The Prayer That Includes Us

And within his prayer is a line that reaches directly to us:
“I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word.” That means this prayer was never just for Peter or Mary or James. It’s for everyone who comes after. Everyone still finding their way. Everyone who’s wondered if there’s space in the story for them.

Jesus’ prayer is for us—and that makes it one of the most personal moments in scripture. Knowing the cross is close, Jesus prays not just for himself, but for all who will come after. He’s praying for the generations to come. He’s praying for the Church—not as a place with buildings and a budget, but as a community held together in his love.

Theologians call this a prayer of intercession, but you don’t need that word to know what’s happening here. Jesus’s prayer is lifting up the ones he loves into the heart of God. His is a prayer of deep trust—in the love that has already held them, that will not let them go. Even if they scatter. Even if they fail. Even if they forget.

Unity as Jesus’ Deepest Desire and our Great Challenge

And what he asks for next is what will hold them together when everything else falls apart. He prays that they, that we, would be one. That we would find a sense of belonging—not in sameness, but in love. That we would live in such a way that the world might come to know the wideness of God’s welcome.

This unity is at the heart of Jesus’ prayer-a life bound together not by shared answers or full agreement, but by shared love. It’s a unity that calls us to stay connected, even when we don’t see things the same way. A unity that proclaims: we do not have to agree on everything to walk in the same direction.

This moment is less like a teacher giving final instructions and more like a parent watching the door close behind someone they love. He can’t walk with them into what comes next. But he can trust the connection won’t be broken.

Just because Jesus is praying this doesn’t mean he thought it would be easy. We don’t have to look far to see how difficult this can be. There’s so much that divides. So many reasons to hold each other at a distance.
And yet, Jesus places this prayer in the middle of our very human struggle and says: You are already part of something I have prayed into being.

Held by a Prayer That Came Before Us

Part of the great beauty of Jesus’ prayer is that it doesn’t begin with us—and it doesn’t depend on us. The connection we long for has already been entrusted to God’s care. The love that binds us has already been placed in God’s hands—by Christ, in prayer. And that prayer is still holding.

Many of us, at some point, have felt unsure how to pray—or whether we’re doing it right. But here’s what we need to understand: Every time we open our mouths in prayer—whether it’s joyful, desperate, angry, or uncertain—we are entering into a conversation that began long before us. Jesus is already speaking on our behalf.

That’s what it means to say we are “held in prayer.” It means the relationship doesn’t start with us. We don’t have to create belonging from scratch. We are already part of a love that is holding us still.

This is what Julian of Norwich came to believe with all her heart. She lived through the 14th-century plague, a time of extraordinary suffering and fear.
As wave after wave of death and chaos swept through her city, she withdrew to a small cell attached to a church, where she dedicated her life to prayer, reflection, and writing. What she witnessed could have led her to despair. But through her visions and deep contemplation, she came to know God not as a distant judge, but as a constant presence—steadfast, tender, unshakable.

In a world that felt like it was unraveling, she wrote these words: “God is the still point at the center, holding us in love and prayer, now and always.”

Julian’s writing reflects the spirit of Jesus’ high priestly prayer—his prayer of unbroken and unending love for us. This is the prayer that holds us—
that holds our congregation and the wider community, that nurtures our relationships in all their beauty and imperfection, that surrounds those who gather in sanctuaries and those who walk in parades, and that embraces the stories we carry, the fears we name, and the dreams we dare to hope.

And it invites us to become something more together than we could ever be alone.

Living the Prayer of Jesus

This morning, some of our Mission Committee and other church members—including youth and adults—are participating in the Buffalo Grove Pride Parade. This has become an annual tradition for us: a way to walk alongside neighbors.

It’s one visible way we try to live the welcome we speak about in worship—and hopefully, it’s not the only one.

There’s an old story about a visitor who walked into a small congregation one Sunday morning. He didn’t look like anyone else in the room. He didn’t dress the same way. He sat alone in the back pew. But after worship, nearly every member came up and greeted him, offered him a bulletin, a handshake, a cookie from the hospitality table. As he left, he said to the pastor, “I don’t know what you preached about—but whatever it was, they already believe it.”

Wouldn’t it be something if people said that about us? Wouldn’t it be something if people saw, in our actions, the living echo of Jesus’ prayer? That kind of welcome takes all of us.

This morning our Church Nominating Committee is hosting Fellowship time and has small flyers about what it means to serve as a Deacon, Elder, or Trustee—and they’re inviting all of us to consider where we might be called to serve.

It doesn’t have to be through an elected role. But it might be. Or it might be in the quiet act of noticing someone new, showing up for someone who’s struggling, or lending your gifts to help broaden our welcome. That welcome takes many forms—responding to the need for ushers or reception hosts, helping to plan one of our community events, working with the landscape team, or simply making sure someone feels at home in our space.

As Pastor Barbara and I walk with you through one more summer, our hope is to help nurture the kind of community that’s ready—ready to embrace one another, ready to welcome the next pastor, ready to live out the prayer of Jesus in every ordinary and extraordinary way we can.

Conclusion: You Are Held by Love

So today, whether you’re sitting in the pews at 9:00 or 10:30 or worshiping online, whether you’re walking in today’s Pride Parade or praying from home, whether you feel certain or unsure, hopeful or hesitant—
You are included in the prayer Jesus offered in the upper room.
You are part of the story he carried in his heart. You are held by that very prayer still at work—reaching across time, anchoring us in grace, and lifting us into the heart of God.

In the name of our Creator, Christ, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Charge

As we go now into the world,
may the Prayer that holds us continue to shape us,
so that we walk in unity that makes space for difference,
love in ways that make space for healing,
and welcome with a depth that makes space for all.

Benediction

May the God who holds all things in love continue to draw us more deeply into community. May the Christ who prays for us give us hope, and may the Spirit who fills us, lead us forward and help us always to Choose Love so we can Be the Light that Changes the World. Amen.