The words of this gospel text are the final prayer Jesus makes on behalf of his disciples. The prayer takes place right before Jesus and the disciples enter the garden where Judas had arranged for a group of soldiers, police and religious leaders to come and arrest Jesus. Jesus prays: "Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me … while I was with them, I protected them in your name … I guarded them." In Jesus' words we find an almost parental tone – Jesus has been guiding and teaching the disciples up to this point, now they will be without his physical presence. It is time for the disciples to take up the work of God's kingdom building for themselves. Like the baby birds who are nudged out of their nests it's time for the disciples to fly on their own. To a point.

The prayer that Jesus lifts up is on of protection. Jesus knows that because the disciples have been associated with him, they will be cut off from their society, they will not be afforded the protection that the structures of society provide. Jesus prays that they will find true protection … the protection of God. This sense of God's protection was a central concern of the community that read and preserved John's gospel. The early Christian community found themselves in more ways than one, "in the world, but not of the world." Their religion was illegal, so while they had to live in their society they had no place in it. At the same time following the way of Christ meant they were called to live in ways that were contrary to society. They were truly in the world but not of it. It was tough and many found it easier to succumb to the pressures put on them and simply renounce Jesus Christ and return to the structures and protections of their society. John's gospel preserves the prayer of Jesus to remind the early Christian community who they are and whose they are … and in that identity they will find their true protection.

It is this prayer that that keeps and surrounds us on this Sunday as we, the church, are poised on the brink of Pentecost. As we lift ourselves into the protection of Jesus' prayer for us we find the courage to ask the tough questions and make the even tougher decisions of living in the world, but not of the world. We are called to figure out what it means, what difference it will make to the world that we profess a belief in the risen Christ and claim to follow in his example. It is one thing to profess a belief – as the early church came to terms with the reality that they were going to be around longer than they first bargained for, they began to give world and shape to their beliefs. They did this to "protect" what was becoming their institution. Their work gave shape to our creeds and professions of faith. In many ways we make promises … we celebrate baptisms where both the parents of a child and the congregation promise to raise the child so that they might come to accept the promises made on their behalf. Next Sunday two of our confirmands will accept their baptismal promises as their own. In our wedding vows, couples promise their love and support to each other. The words of our professions are only given life as we live out the promises we make. We are called not only to profess our beliefs; but challenged to find ways to put them into action. With God's protection blanketing us, we are compelled to continue the work of Jesus Christ, and to be his presence in the world.

As we live in the prayer Jesus prayed for his disciples, my prayer is that his words are necessary for us. Because if when we cease to need the protection he prays for us, we have ceased to be the church. We can not be the church if we tone down our message so that we become acceptable to the world. When we become a group indistinguishable from any other civic group in town we will lose our identity as the followers of Jesus Christ. We are doing something wrong if our work is always acceptable to the "outside."

What happens when we are "acceptable," is that society relegates church goers to the realm of the dull and boring. Wes Seliger is an unconventional Episcopalian priest who loves motorcycles. He tells about being in a motorcycle shop one day, drooling over a huge Honda 750 and wishing that he could buy it. A salesman came over and began to talk about his product. He talked about speed, acceleration, excitement, the attention – getting growl of the pipes, racing, risk. He talked about how the beautiful people would be attracted to anyone riding on such a cycle. Then he discovered that Wes was a minister. It always happens, doesn't it? Immediately the salesman changed his language and even the tone of this voice. He spoke quietly and talked about good mileage and visibility. It was indeed a "practical" vehicle. Wes observed: "Lawnmower salespersons are not surprised to find clergypersons looking at their merchandise; motorcycle salespersons are. Why? Does this tell us something about clergypersons and the church? Lawnmowers are slow, safe, sane, practical, and middle-class. Motorcycles are fast, dangerous, wild, thrilling." Then Wes asks a question: "Is being a Christian more like mowing a lawn or like riding a motorcycle?" He concludes, "The common image of the church is pure lawnmower – slow, deliberate, plodding. Our task is to take the church out on the open road, give it the gas, and see what the old baby will do!" Is our church a lawn mower church or a motorcycle church? Maybe it's time we took more risks for God. With the protection of God, may we go out with a faith that compels us to action in the example of Jesus Christ.