Sermon for June 1, 2025 - The Seventh Sunday of Easter
That They May Be One
We have come to the seventh and final Sunday of Easter — a time of waiting and anticipation. The risen Christ has ascended to heaven, and the Church stands poised between glory received and glory yet to come. Next Sunday, we will celebrate Pentecost, the gift of the Holy Spirit. But today, we dwell in this holy in-between space, listening carefully to the words Jesus prayed before His passion, hearing the final promises of Scripture in Revelation, and longing with the Church across the ages: “Come, Lord Jesus.”
Let us begin with Jesus’ prayer in our gospel this morning, the final portion of what is often called his “High Priestly Prayer.” Here, on the eve of his crucifixion, Jesus does not pray for his own strength, nor even only for his disciples. Instead, he prays “for those who will believe in me through their word”—that’s us. That’s the whole Church through the ages.
And what does he pray for?
“That they may all be one.”
This is not a prayer for uniformity or bland sameness. It is a prayer for deep, holy unity — a unity that mirrors the very relationship between the Father and the Son: “as you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us.” The unity Jesus prays for is not simply organizational or institutional — it is spiritual, sacrificial, intimate. It is nothing less than the life of the Triune God shared with the Church.
It is easy to romanticize the idea of unity — especially when we look around and see just how fragmented and divided the Church can be. We are split by denomination, doctrine, culture, language, and history. But Jesus knew this prayer would not be easy. That’s precisely why He prayed it. He didn’t pray for something that would happen effortlessly — He prayed because this unity would be hard-won, not by our cleverness, but by His cross and resurrection and through the power of the Spirit.
And so, in this in-between time — between Ascension and Pentecost — we wait, as the first disciples did, for the coming of the Spirit, the One who makes us one.
This unity is mirrored in our reading from Revelation. Here we hear the voice of the Risen and Ascended Christ: “See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone’s work.” Jesus is no longer the suffering servant. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.
But notice the invitation He gives: “Let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.”
This is the final word of the Bible. It is not a warning, not a condemnation, not even a command — it is an *invitation*: “Come.” It is a promise that the Spirit and the Bride — that is, the Church — are ready to welcome all who are thirsty.
Here again we see the themes of unity and longing. “The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’” There is no division between God’s Spirit and God’s people — they speak with one voice. This is the unity Jesus prayed for in our gospel, now fulfilled in the heavenly vision. This is what we’re being shaped into even now.
We also see longing: “Come, Lord Jesus.” The Church waits not passively, but with open arms and open hearts. Just as the first disciples waited in the upper room for the Spirit, so now we wait for Christ’s return, for the final consummation of all things.
But we do not wait alone or powerless. Pentecost is just around the corner, and we cannot forget what is coming: the gift of the Holy Spirit. On that first Pentecost, tongues of fire fell, and the Church was born in power and unity. People from every nation under heaven heard the gospel in their own language. The fragmentation of Babel was reversed. The Spirit made the many into one body.
That same Spirit is at work today — drawing us into the unity of God’s love, forming us into a people who bear witness to Jesus in every nation and tongue.
And so, the prayer of Jesus in John, the promise of Revelation, and the power of Pentecost all come together in a single, holy longing: that we may be one, and that the world may believe.
So, how do we live this out today?
We are called to pray for unity. This is where Jesus begins — not with programs or campaigns, but with prayer. Real unity begins on our knees, when we acknowledge that we cannot build the Church on our own. We can only receive it as a gift — and participate in its life by the Spirit.
We must also practice unity. That means loving one another in the Church — even those we disagree with. It means resisting the tribalism and partisanship that tear at the Body of Christ. It means forgiving, reconciling, and serving. If we cannot love our brothers and sisters whom we have seen, how can we love the God we have not seen?
Finally, we are called to proclaim the invitation: “Let everyone who is thirsty come.” The Spirit and the Bride speak together. We cannot be a Church in unity with Christ and silent about His love. The world is thirsty. People are longing for meaning, hope, and healing. We have the living water. Let us not keep it to ourselves.
Let me offer you one final image.
In a typical liturgy, we end the Eucharist with the words: “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” That sending mirrors the words of Revelation and the unity Jesus prayed for. We are sent as one body, nourished at one table, filled with one Spirit, bearing witness to one Lord.
We do not leave the service as scattered individuals. We are sent as the Church — a people shaped by Word and Sacrament, a people waiting for Christ’s return, a people walking together toward the New Jerusalem, where there will be no more tears, no more division, no more waiting.
In this holy in-between time — between the Ascension and Pentecost, between Christ’s first and second coming — let us be the people Jesus prayed for: united, Spirit-filled, and longing for His return.
Let us pray for unity. Let us live as one. Let us invite the thirsty to come.
“The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’”
“Come, Lord Jesus.”
Amen.