“Glory”

seventh Sunday of Easter

May 17, 2026

Acts 1:6-14

John 17:1-11

Glory comes up a lot in John’s gospel — seven times in the eleven verses we just read, and thirty-five more throughout the rest of the book. In the original Greek, the term is “δόξα’ (dóxa) — it means honor, greatness, and exaltation. But it also points to a more transcendent quality, a weight: like when you see something so awesome, so heavy, you almost feel like you’re seeing a tangible manifestation of divinity itself.

We see this in the beginning of John as well, when we read that “the Word became flesh,” and because of this, “we have seen God’s glory” (Jn. 1:14). John describes this “dóxa” as being like “that of an only begotten son,” adding that while God’s law may have come through Moses, its truth was revealed in Jesus — so much so that even though no one has ever seen God, this “son” has made God known (Jn. 1:17-18).

Back then, the language of “sonship” was inseparable from the concept of glory — interwoven with name, legacy, reputation, and even inheritance. A son didn’t just have a family name; they carried it.

Along with the physical estate, the family name was your inheritance; it was your legacy. When a son took over the family business, his primary responsibility was to uphold the family name and increase its weight in the world. This was especially true if you were an only son. If the wealth and reputation of the son grew, it brought “doxa” to those who came before, and even those who might come after.

With that in mind, we could almost paraphrase John’s introduction like this: Jesus was the spitting image of divinity — so much so that he must have been an only child. More than the law of Moses, Jesus revealed to us what God was truly like, demonstrating God’s nature and intentions by running the family business faithfully, upholding the Divine reputation, and bringing glory to God’s name.

That’s echoed in this morning’s passage as well, which comes near the end of John’s gospel, as Jesus claims that everything he has is God’s and everything of God’s is his — that’s inheritance language — and that he had successfully glorified God and “manifested” God’s name to everyone he had been given.

What’s interesting, though, is that he doesn’t only talk about himself in this prayer. He extends the parent/child metaphor to include his disciples. Read a few verses ahead and he expands it even further, adding that he’s not only praying for his disciples, but for every single person who puts their trust in him because of them (Jn. 17:20-26).

In other words, he wants all his followers for all of history to be spitting images of God — which isn’t really new if you think about it. All humans were created to be God’s “image-bearers.” Unfortunately, we tend to be quite skilled at maligning that image and slandering God’s name in some very unfortunate ways sometimes.

But even so, if you claim to be a Jesus follower, then you are a “fellow heir with Christ,” as Paul says (Rom. 8:17). And that means the family business has been given to you as well, and with it, God’s name and reputation.

So if we’re responsible for running the business in a way that glorifies God, we should probably make sure we know exactly what that entails — especially in a world where it can be so easily distorted. And that brings us to the most transformative, empowering (but also challenging) part of the passage.

Jesus says that what glorified God most was using his status, authority, and inheritance to bestow eternal life upon everyone he was given. He also says that he has finished his part in that work, which is why he’s now passing the torch to those who will remain in the world and follow in his footsteps as fellow children of God.

That means faithfully running the family business must ultimately be about utilizing our inheritance, status, and authority as divine children to continue bestowing “eternal life” upon all those who are given to us. Jesus prays that God would protect his followers in this work so that — and this is crucial — they might all become one with him, the same way he is one with God.

If you’re having a little difficulty sitting with all that, stick with me. Because to really understand what that would have meant to John’s first readers, we may need to let go of everything that typically comes into our minds when we hear the words “eternal life.”

Over the last eight hundred years or so — thanks to the influence of Platonism, the cultural biases of European translators, the Enlightenment, the Great Awakening, and

even the English language itself — most modern Americans hear the words “eternal life” and immediately think of something we get after we die. We also end up lumping it together with other terms like “salvation,” “heaven,” “the kingdom of God,” and “resurrection.” And while all those ideas are somewhat interrelated, they are not all actually the same things. In Greek, the phrase “eternal life” is “ζωὴ αἰώνιος” (zōē aiōnios). And contrary to popular belief, it doesn’t actually refer to a never-ending post-mortem existence in a place called “heaven.” It literally translates to life of the ages, and it refers to a real, present, physical state of being that partakes in the kind of characteristics that persist through all of time — a holistic, experiential reality that participates in the essence of that which truly lasts. And what possesses a core nature that will remain from age to age? Two things: God and love — which is exactly why the New Testament authors say those two concepts can never really be separated (e.g., 1 John 4:7–21, Matt. 22:37-39, Mk. 12:31 & Lk. 10:25-28).

“Eternal” or “everlasting life” was never about timelines; it was about quality — a specific kind of existence, one that partakes and shares in God’s own. Which is exactly how Jesus defines it: “This is eternal life,” he says, “that they know you, the one true God, and Jesus, the divinely commissioned Christ.” The Greek word for “know” there is “γινώσκωσιν” (ginōskōsin) and it doesn’t refer to head knowledge. It isn’t knowing stuff about something — it’s the experience of something. It’s an intimate word. In fact, it’s often used to describe the way romantic partners “know” one another when they “become one”.

To know God, in that sense then, is to join yourself to God’s life — not as an observer or an information gatherer, but as an engaged participant, a deeply connected partner. Or, to switch the metaphor back to family: as if you were a one and only child, enveloped and reborn from the very womb of the Creator.

For Jesus, a “life of the ages” wasn’t a goal or a compensation. It didn’t begin at some other time and it wasn’t received in some other place. It was the natural outcome of our relationship to God’s own Spirit — which, thankfully, Jesus says will be helping us in our renewed vocation from within.

Our first reading said the same kinds of things. If you remember, in Acts 1:6–14, after telling his disciples not to concern themselves with future times or would-be rewards, Jesus instructs them to focus on continuing his mission. He tells them the Spirit — the very breath of life itself — will immerse and empower them in that. That’s rebirth language: God taking what was effectively dead and breathing into it a whole new life.

Of course, as soon as he ascends they all just stand there staring into space. And honestly, when it comes to the idea of eternal life, I think a lot of modern people are still doing the exact same thing — standing around, gazing at the clouds, anxiously waiting for God to arrive, bring our reward, or even take us away. I sometimes wonder if the Spirit may be asking the same question today that the angels asked the disciples: “Why are you standing there looking up?”

Thankfully, the disciples did move. And it says they became “of one mind.” Acts chapter 2 tells us even more about how that oneness looked, and how it caused the family to grow. This was no longer a group waiting on intervention or extraction. This was eternal life taking root.

And that same kind of life can start pushing up through the soil of our own hearts too, the moment we stop perceiving God as a distant genie of immortality and start knowing God as something far more integral — something that is already at work in the world, in us, among us, even through us. Something that has been moving, creating, forgiving, rescuing, redeeming, refining, and bringing triumphs out of all our messes since the very beginning.

A God we can experience — here and now — in a stranger on the road (Lk. 24;13-35), in a father running out to embrace his disgraced child without hesitation (Lk. 15:11-32), in a radically equitable vineyard owner (Matt. 20:1-16) or, as Pastor Tobi pointed out a few weeks ago, even in the face we see in the mirror.

We partake in the Spirit’s living presence whenever we practice intentional acts of compassion, persistent mercy, restorative justice, and unconditional inclusivity. We share in the Divine life whenever we serve with no strings attached, whenever we care for the marginalized, resist violence, or defend the vulnerable. And paradoxically, even when we choose to give up our lives for those things.

To put it most simply: an “eternal life” is the ongoing experience and intentional embodiment of genuine love. Because again, love is who God is.

Unfortunately, the Bible doesn’t really talk much about what happens after we die. But it is profoundly concerned with what we choose to propagate while we’re alive. Will we sow fields of corruption, unnecessary suffering, and destruction? Or will we cultivate a deep experiential connection to God through the healing, unifying, and ever-lasting practice of genuine love bestowed upon all those we’ve been given — ourselves, our neighbors, and even the planet we call home?

Of course, that does require that we give up on all of our entrepreneurial attempts at making things great again and humbly return to the family business. Because Jesus’ prayer doesn’t end with souls in line at the pearly gates. It ends with partnership, a global family — an invitation to a full and participatory life characterized by the same mutually glorifying divine oneness he experienced.

Jesus wanted that for all of us — not as a prize for performance or the objective of the Christian religion, but as the natural result of truly knowing the One who is not only best described, but also most truthfully encountered, in the giving and receiving of love itself.

That’s an eternal life. It is to live “as Christ,” as Paul put it — which is the same thing as living in God and having God live in you. It’s what inspired the followers in Acts to act — to begin living in tandem with God’s Spirit for the benefit of all. And the result was “dóxa” — God’s name honored and exalted in those who entered the divine life alongside one another to mend the fractures of our world so that everything can thrive in the love of God. Or, as we here at Our Savior’s like to say: “Walking with Christ and neighbor, healing brokenness together.”

And that’s not an after-life, but something God is graciously making available to us right now — in the invitation for people to know, regardless of their circumstances and despite anything they think might disqualify them. Because when we know, the perceived distance between heaven and earth becomes irrelevant. Not because we now have a ticket to cross some spiritual divide on the other side of life, but because we realize that our inheritance was never on the other side to begin with.

The presence and kingdom of our divine parent has always been right at our fingertips. And if we’re having trouble seeing that, maybe we need to stop looking at the clouds in anticipation and come inside to take our seat at the table instead…

Jesus prayed this at the threshold of immense suffering, yet he spoke with the peace and joy of one who had already received — one who was passing on to us a full measure of his glory so that we all might be held together in the name of the One in whom all things live, move, and have their being: full partners in a love that was not only before all things but will outlast all things.

So may we continue to be unified and enveloped by God’s Spirit as we follow in the footsteps of our eldest brother.

May we oversee the family business faithfully, for the dóxa of God and the benefit of all those we have been given.

And may we know, and in knowing, fully experience and continue to impart the life of the ages.

Amen.

Ryan Dudney

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church