03. May 2026
Cantate
John 16:5-15

In the holy name + of Jesus. AMEN.

“It is to your advantage that I go away.”

Not: things will mostly work out. Not: God is with you in a general sense. Advantage. Specifically. Measurably. Better for you that He goes than that He stays.

The disciples did not believe this. Neither do I.

I pray for the God I can manage. When things go wrong, I want God present in the mode I recognize — a voice that answers directly, a sign I can read, a presence just for my crisis. When a child is sick, I want the healer in the room, not a Spirit I cannot see working through a Word I already know. When the marriage is straining, I want the counselor I can hear, not a promise I have heard before. When I have prayed for months about the same thing, and nothing has moved, I want an explanation — or at minimum a sign that the prayer is being processed, that it is in God’s queue, that it has been received. I want God close in the way that feels close: responsive, particular, present on my terms.

And when I do not get that — when the prayer seems to bounce back, when God seems to have stepped out, when the silence extends past what I find reasonable — I tell myself a story. I say that if I could find the right posture, the right surrender, the right form of trust, the silence would resolve. I try again. I approach God more humbly, more earnestly, more carefully. I read more Scripture. I examine my heart. I confess to anything that might be in the way. And if the silence continues, I eventually conclude that God must want something from me I have not yet given him, or that something in me is still blocking the access I need.

I call this faith. But it is not faith. It is a business arrangement with God — and what I am calling my trust is actually my attempt to manage the situation with God as a divine resource. Underneath the careful prayers and the sincere striving and the genuine grief when the answer does not come, underneath all of it, is the same thing the disciples had in that upper room: a preference for a God who stays put. A God I can follow down a road, see with my eyes, and verify with my experience. And when that God does not appear on schedule, I call his absence faithlessness. I call my demand for a manageable God a form of devotion. And I do not think of asking where He is going.

“None of you asks me where I am going.”

That is the problem Jesus names under the sorrow. They were so absorbed in the loss that they never asked about the destination. What is He going toward? What does the departure make possible? What is waiting on the other side?

Isaiah’s congregation knew what was on the other side. These are not people who received less and learned contentment. Read what precedes the song: “though you were angry with me, your anger is turned away.” They came through God’s anger and arrived at joy. The wells they draw from are on the far side of judgment. The song they sing is not in spite of what God has done; it is because of it. “Behold, God is my salvation. I will trust and will not be afraid.” These people were afraid. The anger was real. And having passed through it, they drew with joy — not manufactured gratitude, not a spiritual decision to feel better, but the joy of people who discovered that what God was doing in his anger was already making way for the wells.

The disciples are in the “though you were angry” moment. They just do not know yet what is on the other side of it.

“Nevertheless, I tell you the truth.”

He does not argue them out of their sorrow. He does not tell them their feelings are wrong. He meets them there and says: I tell you the truth. It is to your advantage that I go.

“When He has come, He will convict the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment.”

This is the Spirit’s work. Not presence along side. Not God-with-you as warmth. Conviction. The Spirit does not come to make you feel better about your situation. He comes to do three things, and they are precise.

He convicts of sin — because men do not believe in Christ. The Spirit does not go after your embarrassing sins first. He goes after your theology. He goes to the root, which is the place where you have tried to make a deal with God instead of simply believing Him. The heart that prays for a manageable God and calls that faith. The heart that says: I have done what was asked — where is God’s side of the arrangement? This is unbelief. Not dramatic, not defiant — the ordinary refusal to receive what God calls good and call it good. The Spirit names this. He does not leave it alone. He cuts to the source.

Then the conviction of righteousness. Not yours — Christ’s. The righteousness that belongs to the one who went to the Father. He went as your advocate. He stands before the Father now with your name on His lips and your debt already on His account — already settled, already cleared, already closed. He arrived without blemish, carrying what you owed, and the Father received Him. The Spirit convicts you of this: the case is decided. The righteousness standing before the Father is not yours, and it does not need to be. It is Christ’s, and through the Spirit’s declaration, it is given to you. You are not on trial. The verdict is in.

And conviction of judgment: because the ruler of this world is judged. Not will be — is. Past tense. Accomplished. The case against the accuser is closed. The prince who brought accusations against you — who had a legitimate claim because of your sin — has been defeated at the cross, where the condemnation was executed and the debt was discharged. He has nothing left on you. The judgment he was prepared to pronounce has been answered in full.

This is what your manageable God could not give you. One man in one place, however holy, could not prosecute the case that acquits the whole world. He was limited by geography, by time, by the particular reach of one body. The Spirit’s office has none of these limits. Through the Word — preached and spoken and applied — He does this work everywhere, in every century, in every room where the Gospel is proclaimed. The reach of His conviction is the reach of Christ’s victory.

Which is everything.

Every sin named. Every righteousness declared. Every judgment executed.

James says it without apology: every good gift, every perfect gift, comes down from the Father of lights, in whom there is no variation or shadow of turning. His generosity has no bad days. He brought you forth by the word of truth — not because you found the right posture, not because your surrender was finally complete, not because you cleared the blockage. The Father of lights opened the well. He told you to draw. The water was already there.

He delivers this to you. Here.

At the font, the Spirit convicted you of sin — and buried you with Christ. Your unbelief was not overlooked; it was drowned. The verdict against you was executed in the water. The old Adam died. What came up from that water was someone acquitted, raised with Christ, with His righteousness declared over them. You are a baptized person. You are not coming to this service to get God’s attention. You come as someone the Spirit has already convicted and already acquitted. The work was done in the water. You stand in it now.

He convicts of righteousness from this pulpit, where the alien righteousness of the one who went to the Father is spoken over you today. The preached Word is the forgiving Word. Absolution is not a ritual formality. It is the Spirit’s declaration of Christ’s righteousness — spoken into your particular situation, your particular sin, your particular week. He says it to you. Today.

He will convict of judgment at this altar. The body and blood of the one who judged the prince of this world — given here, in bread and cup, for the forgiveness of sins and the life of the world. The defeat of the accuser, placed in your hands. The prince who held you has nothing left. The Spirit delivers the proof of his defeat: the body that bore the condemnation, the blood that paid the debt. Here. For you.

This is the advantage. Not God near in the way you wanted. Better than that. The Spirit who convicts — your sin named and buried, Christ’s righteousness declared and given, the ruler’s judgment executed and delivered — doing his work here, in this service, for you.

His anger has been turned away. God is your salvation. Draw from the well of His salvation, Jesus. 

In the holy name + of Jesus. AMEN.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin