Easter 5A - 2026
Sermon for Fifth Sunday of Easter, Year A
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
The Rev. Andrew McLarty
“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” That is where Jesus begins his farewell discourse to the disciples. These are his closest companions, these are people who have shared hundreds of days and thousands of steps with Jesus.
Hearts do get troubled.
Thomas, reliably my favorite disciple, voices the confusion the others are feeling: “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” It is a relatable concern - how can we do what you do? how can we find our own way?
Thomas' question still rings true for us 2000 years later...
We are not walking the roads of Galilee with Jesus. We cannot turn and ask him our questions face to face. We live, as the Church has always lived, in that space between promise and fulfillment, between resurrection and the hereafter. We are asked to follow a Lord who is not present in the way the disciples first knew him.
So, how can we know the way?
Jesus’ answer to the disciples, and to us, does not simplify the mystery. He does not hand them a map or a set of clear directions, he doesn’t even lay out a systematic metaphysic. Instead, he says, “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life.”
“I am the Way.” From the beginning, God’s people have been a people on the move. Abraham sets out without knowing where he is going. Israel fled Egpyt and wandered in the desert toward a home. Diaspora Jews returned from Babylon to rebuild what was lost. And the Acts of the Apostles tells us that the first followers of Jesus were simply known as followers of “the Way.”
To follow Jesus, then, is not to possess certainty about every step. It is to keep walking, and trust that the path is set before us. We follow the Way whenever we forgive, whenever we love beyond what seems standard, whenever we take up the quiet work of discipleship. The Way is not somewhere else. It is the life we are already being invited to walk.
“I am the Truth.” In John’s Gospel, truth is not just about getting things right. It is about God being made known. Jesus promises that the Spirit of Truth will come to guide us still. Which means that even in his physical absence, we are not abandoned to confusion. The Truth is not something we secure once and for all; it is something we grow into as we remain in him. It unfolds in worship, in scripture, in community, in the quiet work of the Spirit shaping us over time.
“I am the Life.” Not only is God the life that awaits us, but the life that is now, already unfolding. Eternal life in John is not merely future—it is participation in God’s own life. It is what happens when we are drawn into relationship with the Father through the Son. It is what we taste, even now, in the breaking of the bread, in the sharing of peace, in the life of this community.
So yes, we live with mystery. We follow one we cannot see. We walk without a detailed map of what lies ahead. But we do not lack our provisions for this journey.
We know that Christ has gone before us to prepare a place. We know that God is not absent from whatever future awaits us. And we know, that the One who calls us will provide.
As Epistle to the Romans reminds us, nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Not uncertainty. Not absence. Not even death itself.
And so the troubled heart is given not an explanation, but a promise. Not certainty, but presence.
“I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life.”
Which means that wherever this road leads, however unclear it may seem, we are not walking it alone.
Amen.
