Knowing, Changing and Letting Go

Growing up, my family moved a number of times as my father was transferred by the bank he worked for. And when these transfers took us to a new town, we would go out ahead of the move to see the house that we would be living in, the local Catholic school, the branch that Dad would be working in.

I remember clearly the first of these moves to a town in the South West Slopes of New South Wales, and the house on the sloping block, with large granite boulders in the front and back yards. As we were being shown around the house we would be moving into, Mum and Dad were discussing which room would be mine and which would be my sister’s. It was a conversation that we had each time we moved, but the reason I remember it so well from this first move is that by the time we moved in a few weeks later, they had changed their minds, and I got the other room.

It didn’t really matter in the slightest. But being our first move, I was apprehensive, and knowing which space would be mine meant something.

This Sunday we hear John’s account of the space between Jesus’ last supper with His disciples and His passion. They have begun to understand that their world is about the change and they are apprehensive too. Following Jesus has become a familiar pattern in their lives and one that has brought them hope and meaning, as well as a sense of identity. They know and understand themselves as disciples and Jesus as the one who has been building towards something. What will happen now?

When he says to them, ‘do not let your hearts be troubled… trust me,’ it comes across first as reassurance. You will still have a place with me.

But on another level, it is an invitation to let go of knowing what lies ahead.

You know me, He says to Thomas. That’s all you need to know.

Each time we moved to a new town, a new house, a new school, it was still daunting – even if we did get better and quicker at packing and unpacking, and letting go of what was broken or lost in the process. But home was where Mum and Dad were, and that was enough.

I've always found the saying Let Go and Let God a bit trite, but what I am hearing Jesus say to me through the Gospel reading this Sunday is not that there is nothing to worry about, nor that He will solve all of my worries for me, but that He is with me in the uncomfortable, in-between spaces. And that is enough.