The John Project

I've just celebrated my seventieth birthday. To use an American football metaphor, that means I'm deep in the fourth quarter. And I'll admit it's tempting to allow my focus on the importance of the current play to become distracted by speculation regarding the uncertainties of the endgame. But when I do, I become self-focused, risk--averse, less available to the promptings of the Spirit, and ineffective in my service to Jesus. In John 21:18-19, having just led Peter through a process of repentance for his denials and into the restoration of his calling, we see how Jesus sought to help him avoid those pitfalls. The Lord began his comments with a phrase translated as, “Most assuredly, I say to you,” an expression John used twenty-five times in his gospel to capture Christ's intention to signal the importance of what he was about to say. So, although the words that followed held significant implications for Peter, it's clear Jesus meant that all of us should pay close attention to them. The Lord used prophetic language – long on insight but short on details – to describe the self-determination that characterized Peter's early life and to set that in contrast with what would be true at its end. But the specifics regarding that future were so vague that before completing his record of the full quote, John added commentary to make sure we wouldn't miss the fact that Jesus was predicting how Peter would die. Christian tradition holds that Peter was crucified during Emperor Nero's reign and asked to be executed upside down because he felt unworthy of dying in the same manner as his Messiah. Although this traditional account aligns with what Jesus predicted, it's historically unverifiable. So, we can't know if it accurately reflects what happened or is merely a version of the events that was shaped after the fact to conform to the Lord's prophecy. But what we can know for certain from John's explanation is that what Jesus said about the circumstances of Peter's passing, however hard it may have been for him to hear, was less a prediction about the manner of his death and more about how it would glorify God. And that says more about the life Peter was being called to live than about how it would end. Unless a person's LIFE honors God, their death won't. And that provides us with context for the Lord's next two-word sentence. Jesus said to Peter, “Follow me.” And there would have been no mystery about what he meant. Peter had heard him use that simple phrase several times over the course of their relationship. He would have understood that he was being invited to walk in the footsteps of his Master, to literally be his

Recently, some of our grandchildren have become involved in theater arts. So, I'm learning a whole new vocabulary that includes the term,

Prior to becoming one of the twelve, John had been a commercial fisherman along with his brother and father. And nowhere is that part of his background more evident than in verse 11 of the 21st chapter of his gospel. It contains a collection of very specific details connected to the events described in the passage that surrounds it. But the curious thing is that those particulars don't really seem to add to the overall narrative. And that's what draws me to them. In my experience, the Bible NEVER wastes words. So, I invite you to consider with me why John felt compelled to include these descriptions. The disciples who'd returned home from Jerusalem to the Galilee region following Christ's resurrection while waiting for him to fulfill a promise to meet them there, joined Peter in what turned out to be a fruitless night of fishing. Then, as dawn was breaking, a man they hadn't yet recognized as Jesus called out to them from the shore and asked if they'd caught anything. When, unlike any fishermen I know, they admitted they hadn't, he told them they should cast their net on the right side of the boat because that's where the fish were. As crazy as this advice must have sounded, the disciples were apparently desperate enough to give it a try. And when they did, they suddenly found their net so full they couldn't haul it into the boat. But this wasn't the first time some of these men had witnessed a fishing miracle. In the early days of Jesus' public ministry and prior to him calling them to be his apostles, the Gospel of Luke (5:1-6) provides details surrounding a similar night spent working their nets with nothing to show for it. After coming ashore and beginning the process of cleaning their gear, Jesus showed up and rocked their world. He promised them that if they'd head back out and cast their net once more, they'd bring in a catch. So, with Peter's faith leading the way, they swallowed their professional pride, sailed into the deep, and soon found their net literally bursting with fish. Now, three years later, as they once again wrestled to manage a bulging net, the memory of the miraculous catch that launched their journey to becoming

All of us have had the experience of unexpectedly running into an acquaintance, exchanging quick greetings, and before moving on to wherever we were originally headed, saying to each other, “Let's catch up over coffee sometime.” But we usually just say things like that because it's expected, and the ambiguity signals our lack of intention to follow through. If we were serious, we'd open the calendars on our phones and arrange a time and place for the meeting. But Jesus isn't like us, and that truth helps me better understand the context for the events described in John 21:1-4. Jesus appeared to his disciples in Jerusalem twice within the first eight days following his resurrection. Then, at some point during the next month (Acts 1:3), at least seven of them made the four-day journey back to their home region. It was there, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, also known as Tiberias, that they experienced their third encounter with the risen Christ (John 21:14). And John's account of the resulting rendezvous is filled with such profound significance, especially for Peter, that its record became the final chapter and epilogue of this gospel. It was likely a mix of reasons that prompted the disciples to make that trip. They may have feared arrest by the Jewish authorities, reached the limits of the hospitality or finances that secured their Jerusalem lodgings, or maybe just desired to return to familiar surroundings among friends and family after all they'd been through. But chief among the considerations had to have been their recollection of a promise Jesus made on the night of his betrayal. He told them he would meet them in Galilee after his resurrection (Matthew 26:32). These weren't idle words. In fact, when the women discovered the empty tomb on resurrection morning, they were specifically instructed by an angel to remind the disciples about them. And Jesus himself reiterated those instructions when he appeared to the ladies on their way to deliver that reminder (Matthew 28:7 & 10). But as serious as Jesus was about fulfilling this pledge, its details remained vague. The disciples were left to wonder where and when EXACTLY this would take place. To their credit, they made the trip to Galilee. But in the absence of more specific information, it appears Peter reached the end of his patience and decided that just waiting for Jesus to show up somewhere sometime was unproductive or perhaps even futile. So, he announced he was going fishing, and he didn't mean for recreation. With the clock ticking on questions demanding answers and his future unclear, it seems Peter chose to return to the clarity of his past. And without a better idea for what to do, the others joined him in the boat to help man the nets. But after laboring all night with nothing to show for their efforts, it's easy to imagine the heavy fog of disappointment, disillusionment, discouragement, frustration and hopelessness that must have settled over their souls. In fact, it seems to have been so thick that they failed to recognize the man standing on the beach just a hundred yards away (John 21:8) as dawn began to break. But it was Jesus keeping his promise. Because trust forms the foundation of any meaningful relationship, and because relationship with us is what God desires most, Hebrews 11:6 reveals that, “without faith it is impossible to please him.” But true faith can only develop when our trust is challenged, and that happens most often as we must wait for the fulfillment of a divine promise. That's why those promises, whether written in Scripture or whispered into our hearts, almost never come with a date certain. It can be difficult to appreciate the value of the Lord's loving ambiguity when it requires us to linger in that suspended state where circumstances press in, deadlines pass, and the pressure mounts to act. But in those deeply challenging times, when we make the choice to trust God and resist the temptation to just DO something, we'll find the result of that sustained faith will ultimately clear the haze, reveal the Lord's faithfulness, and deepen our relationship with him.

As I was preparing to enter my freshman year of high school, I realized that the secondhand faith I'd inherited from my parents wasn't going to be strong enough to bear the weight of my future. I knew if I was going to live as a genuine Christian, I would need a faith of my own. So, alone in my room before bed one evening, I prayed this sincere and simple prayer: “God, I'm not sure you even exist. But if you do and you're the God the Bible describes, please reveal yourself to me.” Then, later that same night, I woke up with the phrase

On the evening of the first Easter, as the disciples wrestled with the believability of Mary Magdalene's claim that Jesus was alive, John 20:19-23 tells us that they huddled behind closed doors in fear of those who'd murdered their master. But then suddenly, there he was, standing in their midst unannounced, unexpected, and out of nowhere. So, to allay their fears and confusion he said, “Peace be with you,” and then invited them to inspect his wounds to see that he wasn't a phantom. And as they became convinced that he was indeed their risen Lord, gladness overtook their souls. But, comforting them and setting the record straight about his resurrection weren't the only items on his agenda. After reiterating his blessing of peace to assure his disciples that just as with his sudden appearance, they could receive what he was about to say next without fear, he began bringing into focus all that their apprenticeship to him had been leading toward. He conferred on them their ministry vocation, initiated their connection to the one who would resource their ability to complete it, and described what was at stake in its fulfillment. And it must have seemed to those men as though the pieces of a puzzle were finally coming together. When Jesus said, “As the Father has sent me, I also send you,” it wasn't the first time they'd heard this. They would have recalled recently overhearing him referring to them using a nearly identical sentence as he prayed to his Father (John 17:18). And from the earliest days of their relationship with him, Jesus had called them

Immediately following his resurrection, Jesus dictated a message to be sent to his closest followers, and John 20:17-18 tells its story. Considering the magnitude of the moment, its brevity is startling. But surely no other single sentence has ever communicated more. Its content, how it was addressed, and the choice of the one entrusted to deliver it, all spoke volumes. The grief, confusion, and desperation experienced by Mary Magdalene following the death of her Savior and the disappearance of his body were relieved in the moment he appeared to her, tenderly called her name, and gave her an assignment. He commissioned her to bear this communiqué to his apprentices, which also meant she would be testifying to his resurrection. But she was literally the least likely person for the job. Sadly, in first century Israel, women were not considered reliable witnesses. And although Jesus had set her free from spiritual bondage (Luke 8:2), Mary would likely still have carried the stigma of having once been demon possessed. So, it's easy to see that there would have been a problem with her perceived credibility. In fact, Luke's account of this (24:11) specifically notes she was not believed. But even though Jesus could have appeared to Peter and John instead when they'd been at the tomb just moments earlier and could have sent them to bear witness of his resurrection and convey his message, he chose not to. So, we can only conclude he deliberately appointed Mary for this critical assignment despite and perhaps even because of her gender and her past. Regardless, since we can all identify with the feeling of being unqualified for service to the Savior, this choice continues to communicate the Lord's willingness to use people just like us to bear his good news to the world. Until this point in his gospel, John quoted Jesus referring to his primary group of followers using three different terms that seem to indicate a progression: from servants (15:15) to disciples (8:31) to friends (15:14-15). But here, on the other side of the cross, the Lord addressed them using a word that takes that relational progression to another level. He made a point of instructing Mary to go to his brethren, a term John had used exclusively in relation to blood relatives prior to this. So, the change is notable and makes clear that Jesus was highlighting the deeper relationship with himself now available to those men. It's simply breathtaking to hear him speak of them in that richly familial way and to realize that by doing so, he was saying the same thing about us. To all who are being sanctified by his amazing grace, both men and women, Hebrews 2:11 says, “He is not ashamed to call them brethren.” And if that weren't wonderful enough, because it's true, when Jesus told Mary to tell the disciples, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, and to my God and your God,” he was speaking to us too. And with those few words, he was outlining the entirely new paradigm his sacrifice and triumph has made possible for comprehending how we, once cut off by our sin, can be FULLY reconciled to our creator. Through his incarnation, Jesus had so thoroughly identified with us that he could join us in addressing his Father as “my God.” And through his crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension, our Savior has made it possible for us to be so thoroughly identified with him that we can now join him in addressing God as “our Father.” No message has ever contained more glorious news, been addressed with a more ennobling salutation, or been conveyed by a more unexpected envoy. And in each of those aspects, it continues to speak to all who will listen.

John 20:17 contains the text of what is certainly the most important message ever sent. It was from Jesus to his disciples, contained eternity-altering revelations, and………was entrusted to the most unlikely messenger. But before exploring the impact of that message and its messenger, let's consider its prologue. Jesus had just revealed himself alive from the dead to Mary Magdalene. And with the realization of what was happening starting to flood her awareness and replace her desperation with elation, Jesus began an astounding paragraph by addressing her with the phrase, “Do not cling to me.” Those words have always puzzled Bible commentators because they seem inconsistent with some of the other accounts of resurrection appearances in the gospels. For instance, Matthew's (28:9) description of the Lord's appearance to the women at the tomb portrays them worshipping him with their arms around his feet. And Luke's (24:39) account of the Lord's subsequent appearance to his disciples records Jesus specifically inviting them to “handle” him to confirm that he had flesh and bones. Although exactly why Jesus said this to Mary will likely remain a mystery this side of eternity, at least a couple of things are clear. By telling her not to cling to him, he was highlighting the fact that it would have been possible for her to do so. The one who spoke those words was not a phantom or disembodied spirit that could be dismissed as the figment of an overactive imagination. Jesus was present with Mary in a very physical body that had been literally raised from death to life and could have been held on to. This inference by Jesus was surely intentional because the truth of his BODILY resurrection is the reality that serves as the foundation for saving faith (1 Corinthians 15:17). But beyond that, Jesus told Mary he didn't want her to cling to him because the work of redemption was still in process. He said, “I have not yet ascended to my Father.” The crucifixion where the penalty for sin was paid, and the resurrection that secured eternal life for the forgiven, had been accomplished. But the ascension that would precipitate the outpouring of the Holy Spirit to empower Christian life and ministry was still to come. As crucial as it was for Jesus to establish the reality of his triumph over death by physically appearing to his followers, it was equally important for him to help them understand that this was not the end of the story. He was helping Mary orient her anticipation beyond what he'd already done toward what he was about to do. Prior to his arrest, Jesus had told his disciples (John 16:7), “It is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you; but if I depart, I will send Him to you.” If we fail to grasp the profound implications of the ascension, we miss something essential to the gospel. Paving the way for the person and power of the Spirit of God to reside in and flow through the redeemed is fundamental to a full embrace of what Jesus came to do. It's simply not possible to overstate that. But if we're not careful, like Mary, we believers have the potential of becoming a little too CLINGY with the resurrection. It's easy to become fixated on its benefits because they're so overwhelmingly glorious. Forgiveness of sins and eternal life are gifts beyond measure, and our lifetimes will not supply sufficient space to even come close to adequately exploring their riches. Yet even as we cherish those treasures of grace, let's make the choice to also allow our risen Lord to introduce us more fully to the ministry of the Spirit his ascension makes possible.

I buy an iced coffee from a Starbucks near my home almost every day, and as a result, I've gotten to know most of the partners at that store. They even greet me by name when I walk in. And although I know it's their job to do that, I still appreciate the kindness of being recognized. So, I always try to return the favor. But one day, while I was visiting a friend in another city about thirty miles away, we went to a Starbucks in his neighborhood. And while I was waiting for my drink, I heard, “Hi, Randy.” I was Surprised to hear my name in that unfamiliar context. So, I quickly turned to see who'd spoken and found myself across the bar from one of my hometown baristas. He just happened to be subbing there that morning. I felt terrible that I hadn't noticed him. But that's when I discovered how easy it is to fail to recognize someone you're not expecting to see. And I think that's what happened in John 20:11-16. Mary Magdalene had waited outside Jesus' tomb weeping while Peter and John went inside to verify her claim that the body was missing. After they'd left, while still processing a powerful mix of emotions, she took another look for herself. But this time, besides the discarded grave clothes, she saw two angels sitting there. And I'm glad John described them as such, because we would never guess their angelic identity from his account of how Mary reacted to them. The relative handful of scriptural references to human encounters with these heavenly beings are always marked by responses of intense reverence and humility. But we don't see any of that on this occasion. In fact, the text describes Mary interacting with them as if they were nothing more than cemetery groundskeepers who might know something about the disappearance of the missing corpse. The other gospels fill out this scene and make it clear that Mary did understand who she was speaking to, but her singular focus was on full display. For her, nothing was more important at that moment than finding out what happened to her Lord's body, not even an angelic visitation. And I think that explains what happened next. She turned around and saw Jesus, but didn't recognize him. Even after he asked her why she was crying, her familiarity with his voice failed to register. Her frame of reference was so shaped by what she thought she understood the circumstances to be, and she was so emotionally invested in that narrative, she mistook the resurrected Messiah for a gardener. That is until…he spoke her name. When he lovingly broke through the tears, the frenzy, and the fears with that tender reminder that he knew exactly who she was, where she was, and what she needed, suddenly, recognition flooded her being and changed everything. Jesus has promised to be with us always (Matthew 28:20) and to never leave or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5). But it's entirely possible to miss out on the benefit of those promises. And this passage forces me to consider, with regret, the many occasions I've failed to recognize the presence of my Savior when he's shown up in the circumstances of my life in a form I wasn't expecting. There have been too many times I've cried out in prayer asking the Lord to meet me in the midst of my heartache, uncertainty, and confusion so convinced I knew what the arrival of his comfort, wisdom, and guidance would look like that I've failed to discern his nearness. But I'm learning that in those times when I can't seem to see him, if I stop squirming, quiet my thoughts, and listen with my spirit I can hear him call my name. And it turns out that the assurance of being known and loved by God is what the presence of Jesus actually looks like.

John chapter 20 opens with Mary Magdalene going to Jesus' tomb in the predawn hours on the Sunday following his crucifixion. We know from the other gospels that she'd gone there to complete the burial process that had been interrupted by the Sabbath. But when she arrived, she discovered the stone that had been used to cover the entrance had been rolled away and the body was gone. From that point through the next 9 verses, the narrative almost sounds like coverage of a track meet. Mary took off running to find Peter and John. Then, the two of them ran to the tomb to check it out for themselves with John arriving first because he'd outrun Peter. And it's implied that Mary chased after them back to the tomb because verse 11 says she remained there when Peter and John returned home. And that undoubtedly involved even more running as they rushed to share with others what they'd seen. But this passage isn't about a frantic foot race. It's about a journey to faith in the risen Christ. And that's not always an easy road to navigate. The resurrection can be a significant intellectual obstacle for many. But everything about God's plan to redeem humanity rests on this truth. In fact, I Corinthians 15:17 puts it this way, “If Christ is not risen, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins!” So, John, who once again referred to himself simply as a

When I was a young man, I toured with a Christian rock band, and in 1977, we recorded a live concert for television to promote the release of an album. The show was captured from different angles by a variety of cameras, and their individual feeds were edited together to create the version for broadcast. But immediately after the performance, our band had to get back out on the road. So, we didn't get to see the finished version when it aired. But nearly a decade later, while visiting a distribution warehouse, I was shocked and thrilled to find an original video tape from that concert in a random box just sitting on one of the shelves. It was the feed from only one of the cameras and doesn't capture everything. But because of its distinct vantage point, it preserves aspects of the performance that likely didn't appear in the televised version. So, I've come to appreciate the value of that camera's point of view. A point of view is the perspective from which something is observed or experienced. And the accounts of the resurrection of Jesus contained in the New Testament vary a bit from each other because of that. Each person who lived through that event experienced it from within the context of their individual perspective. It's one story with the same start and finish, but it's wrapped around an assortment of other stories taking place inside it because of the witnesses' different frames of reference. And the gospel writers had their OWN points of view. Under the direction of the Holy Spirit, each of them had a distinct purpose for their writing and a different audience in mind when they made the choices about which of the stories within the story to include. Taken together, though, it's like having the opportunity to view the same scene through the lenses of different cameras. And that provides us with a fuller, richer picture of what happened. But there's also value in tightening the focus and zeroing in on a single vantage point to savor the unique details it captures. And that's the choice John made for his account of the discovery of the empty grave and revelation of the risen Savior. The first verse of chapter 20 sets those events within the frame of a single point of view. According to the other gospels, there were several women who came to Jesus' tomb early on the first Easter morning. But John only mentions one of them, Mary Magdalene. Magdalene was not her last name. It's a reference to where she came from, the city of Magdala. And maybe where she came from is part of the reason why her viewpoint was important to John. I'm not referring to the geographical location of her past but to what she experienced there. According to Luke (8:2), she had lived under the horrors inflicted on her soul by seven demonic spirits until she encountered Jesus and was set from that bondage. As a result, the intensity of her devotion to him was on full display as she moved from grief over his death through confusion at the disappearance of his body to the joy of his resurrection appearance. It was as if nothing and no one else mattered. And maybe her point of view reveals something about God's. Isn't that the way he loves us, as though nothing and no one else matters? Yes, the Bible says he loves the whole world (John 3:16), but it also describes him as a shepherd who's willing to leave the ninety-nine to rescue the one lost lamb (Matthew 18:11-13). And once when Jesus was pressing through the push and shove of a sizeable crowd, he still knew when one specific woman reached out and touched the hem of his garment. We're told he sought her, made eye contact with her, spoke to her, and ministered healing to her as if she was the only person there (Luke 8:43-48). God's love is intently focused on each of us individually. And in those times when we're tempted to believe otherwise, may the Holy Spirit remind us that we are his point of view.

John 19:38-42 supplies details regarding Jesus' burial. But it also records a remarkable account of bold, risky, and unexpected faith exercised by two members of the Jewish elite. Both were part of the Sanhedrin – the religious leadership council – and both, until this point, had been timid Christ-followers. One of them, Joseph from the city of Arimathea, is mentioned in all four of the canonical gospels. Although the other three describe various additional aspects of Joseph's identity and character, in his account, John focused on the fact that he was someone who kept his belief in Jesus a secret for fear of how his fellow religious leaders might react if they found out. The other man was named Nicodemus. He only appears in the Gospel of John but is mentioned on three occasions. The first occurred early in the Lord's ministry (John 3:1-21) when Nicodemus' spiritual hunger compelled him to seek answers. But we're told he approached Jesus at night under cover of darkness to avoid being seen associating with him. Both men clearly tried to keep their faith a private affair. So, it's truly shocking when even while adrift in the high tide of heartache, confusion, and disillusionment they must have been experiencing in the aftermath of the crucifixion, they steeled themselves to take a very public and dangerous stand of solidarity with Jesus by assuming responsibility for his burial. The Lord's closest followers had all gone into hiding. But instead of running away, Joseph shoved his secret faith out into the open and courageously approached Pilate for permission to take possession of the body. Then, Nicodemus escorted his own belief out of the shadows and brought 100 pounds of spices, likely purchased at his own expense, to join Joseph in preparing the corpse according to Jewish custom. And finally, together, they placed Christ's remains in a new tomb owned by Joseph (Matthew 27:60) and conveniently located in a garden nearby. After this, both men exit the pages of Scripture and into legend. So, even though we may desperately desire to hear the rest of the story, we simply can't know what happened next. Our questions regarding the impact of the resurrection on their lives, how the rest of the religious elite reacted to their stand, and how their expressions of faith in that darkest of times directed their futures must remain unanswered. But this is certain. There was no turning back. They were now on record as being among those who followed the Nazarene. To the extent they'd previously been able to keep that fact hidden, it would no longer be possible. Their commitment to Jesus, once private and theoretical, was now public and material. But true faith can only reveal itself when challenged. Like the strength of a muscle that can't be fully assessed unless exercised against resistance, belief in Jesus is merely philosophical until acted on in the face of circumstances that push against it. That's what makes the story of Joseph and Nicodemus so powerful and why we should all pray to be more like them. If you've been someone who's tried to play your faith close to the vest but are finding it increasingly difficult to do so while being squeezed between the rocks and hard places of life or when under direct satanic assault, I encourage you to remember Joe and Nick. It's time to make the choice they made.

My wife and I have had parents pass into eternity in recent years, and we've learned firsthand that among the many unexpected decisions confronting surviving loved ones is determining how much and what aspects of the deceased's history to preserve. Wading through all their photos, slides, videos, digital files, journals, papers, and keepsakes – not to mention financial records, clothing, home décor, and other possessions – can feel overwhelming. So, I can't begin to imagine what it must have been like for John to be summoned by the Holy Spirit into the process of curating a record of the life of Jesus for his gospel. He described the challenge as staggering in chapter 21 verse 25. But in chapter 20 verse 31, he explained the approach the Spirit led him to adopt for making the difficult editing decisions when he said, “These are written that you may BELIEVE that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that BELIEVING you may have life in his name.” With that statement, the apostle made clear that of all the details he could have included, his account was fine-tuned to inspire faith. And one of the ways he accomplished that was by quoting Old Testament, messianic prophecies and noting the ways God fulfilled them through and within the Savior's ministry. Chapter 19 verses 31-37 contain two examples of this. Both involve events that occurred after the Lord's death making their fulfillment even more belief-producing. Jesus was crucified on the Day of Preparation for the first Sabbath of the week-long Feast of Unleavened Bread, the most sacred season on the Jewish calendar. For that reason and because of a command in the Mosaic law (Deuteronomy 21:22-23) requiring that the body of anyone hung on a tree be buried on the same day, the Jewish leaders pressed Pilate to hasten the deaths of Jesus and the thieves. The religious clock was ticking, and they were anxious to get the corpses buried. So, soldiers were dispatched to break the legs of the dying men and make it harder for them to push themselves up to breathe. The text describes that they brutalized the thieves in this way but not Jesus because he'd already died. And John carefully noted that this was the fulfillment of a prophecy made by King David 1,000 years earlier and recorded in Psalm 34:20 where it says, “Not one of his bones shall be broken.” Then, just to be certain Jesus was dead, one of the soldiers pierced the side of his lifeless body with a spear causing a mix of blood and water to flow from the wound. Many Bible commentators believe the specific description of the blood and water hold symbolic spiritual significance; many physicians believe it provides medical clues for the cause of death; and many Christian apologists believe it counters the argument of resurrection deniers that Jesus didn't really die. And all of that may be true. But what is certain is that this piercing was not a random act. It was foretold. It was the realization of a prophecy made 500 years previous and recorded in Zechariah 12:10: “They shall look on him whom they pierced.” John considered this pair of proofs for the Lord's messiahship so powerful that in verse 35 he paused the narrative to insert a claim for the trustworthiness of his account. Referring to himself, he said, “He who has SEEN has testified, and his testimony is TRUE…so that you may BELIEVE.” It would be easy to undervalue this part of the crucifixion record. None of the other gospel writers included these details. But John's unique purpose compelled him to tell this part of Christ's story and emphasize its importance. So, let's tread reverently here and be willing to linger in the presence of the Holy Spirit who inspired these words, allowing him to use them to strengthen our faith.

Decades ago, I took part in a study designed to help teams and their leaders understand each other better and work together more effectively. At its conclusion, each participant received a report describing their personality type and the work environment they would most likely thrive in. And I still vividly recall my reaction to a couple of sentences in the summary I was given. They read, “Randy is a

I was twenty-one when I pulled my car to the entrance of Little Company of Mary hospital in Torrance, CA to pick up my wife and our first child from the maternity ward. After Sue was seated and I'd placed our newborn in her lap – child car seats weren't a thing in those days – I closed the passenger door and began making my way to the driver's side. But just as I was rounding the trunk, the Lord spoke to me. I don't say that casually. Please believe me that claiming to have received a message directly from the Sovereign of the Universe is NOT something I do lightly. But I'm convinced I heard from God in that moment. It came as a distinct, unbidden impression to my thoughts. And that impression was so strong, I would have sworn it was an audible voice. As I was about to get behind the wheel to drive my little family home and embark on the fatherhood journey that would define the rest of my days, I heard, “Your life is over.” Now, that may seem like an unartful way for the Maker and Master of All Things to communicate, but I knew EXACTLY what he meant. He was emphatically marking the boundary where my self-centered life was to end and where a lifetime of caring for others precious to HIM would begin. And as I consider the moving story accounted in John 19:25-27, I think it describes a similar commissioning that took place in the gospel writer's own life. Among the women specifically identified in the text as positioned near the cross and present with the Lord in his agony, was his mother. She was most likely a widow at that point in her life, and the realities of the time made it nearly impossible for a woman to provide for herself alone. As the oldest son in His family, Jesus had a cultural obligation to care for His mom. So, even in the throes of his unimaginable suffering, this tender passage describes how Jesus ensured her needs would be met in the aftermath of his passing. Why the Lord didn't leave this responsibility to his half-brothers or other relatives can't be known. But it may have been due in part to the fact that they didn't yet believe in him as Messiah according to John 7:5. Regardless, Jesus chose for this role one of his closest friends, the one who described himself humbly and without presumption as, “the disciple whom he loved.” With his physical life draining away and in what must have been a weak and labored voice, Jesus first spoke to his mother. He addressed her with a tender word of endearment and respect translated into English as

In the fall of 2008, my wife was away on a personal retreat seeking the Lord in prayer regarding his plans for the next season of her life, and she felt her heart drawn to Isaiah chapter 41. Several parts of that passage spoke to her deeply, especially the phrases, “Fear not, for I am with you,” and “Those who war against you shall be as nothing.” While meditating on those prophetic promises, she sensed the Lord was comforting her in advance of a challenging trial. Two weeks later, she was rushed into the operating room at our local hospital for emergency abdominal surgery that revealed a bleeding, ruptured lesion the size of a football and a diagnosis of stage-four, untreatable, incurable, terminal, adrenal cancer. And although I'm thrilled to be able to jump to the conclusion of that story and tell you she experienced a miraculous healing in the end, that wouldn't happen until after a five-year period of holding tightly to those promises the Lord had highlighted for her in Isaiah. They would anchor both of us through the toughest season of our lives. But it was a tiny detail from that passage that would ultimately affect me the most. Referring to God's triumph over Israel's adversaries, the first part of Isaiah 41:12 says, "You shall seek them and not find them." So, you can imagine the explosion of joy I experienced when during Sue's final surgery – after having seen with my own eyes the results of two different types of medical imaging that revealed the return of this aggressive disease – her surgeon left the operating room to tell me that although he could offer no logical explanation, he hadn't been able to locate the cancer anywhere. Since then, I read John 19:23-24 differently. It describes how the soldiers tasked with Christ's crucifixion went about dividing up his clothing among themselves and determining which of them would get to keep his seamless tunic. At first glance, this sad bit of subplot doesn't seem to have any bearing on the redemption narrative. But in verse 24 when John quotes from the book of Psalms (22:18) to remind his readers that these details had been specifically foretold 600 years earlier, suddenly, the impact and importance of this seemingly insignificant part of the story become clear and demand attention. In Ezekiel 12:25, the Lord says, “I speak, and the word which I speak will come to pass." This is true not only in generalities. It's also true in specifics. Matthew 5:18 quotes Jesus saying, “Till heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle will by no means pass from the law till all is fulfilled.” The word translated into English as

In just two days, I'll celebrate the glories of Easter with exultant believers around the globe. But today, I join the family of the redeemed in remembering the price of our salvation and the love that paid it. It's Good Friday. And this year, I'm determined not to just give token consideration to the crucifixion while on my way to basking in the glow of Christ's resurrection. The measure of our Savior's suffering and sacrifice deserves more than that. So, I invite you to join me in taking a fresh look at John 19:17-22. It tells us that the blameless Son of God, having already been unjustly and severely tortured, was forced to shoulder a heavy chunk of rough-hewn timber and carry it outside Jerusalem to an infamous site known as

I was fourteen years old when I first lied to my parents. It was actually the only time I was ever untruthful with them. I'd just come home from a party at a friend's house that I hadn't told them about, and I made up a story to cover my tracks. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I definitely and sadly remember the moment. It may sound like trivial teenage stuff, but the truth is I'd crossed a line I should have never even approached. And just like every other major event in my life, good or bad, I can recall in vivid detail when and where I was when it happened. The specifics that mark those crucial intersections in our lives get indelibly written on our souls like signposts that either point to mistakes we've made that need to be revisited in repentance and avoided going forward or to milestones of achievement we can build on as we advance into the future. And I think my story may help illustrate one of the lessons to be found in John 19:12-16. Rendered speechless and unnerved by the authority-filled words his bruised, bleeding, but unbroken prisoner uttered in the previous verse, it describes the resulting, desperate determination of Pilate to find a way to release Jesus. But in the end, it also records how the governor surrendered to the forceful, full-throated demands for crucifixion from the Jewish leaders and their inflamed mob. Even though Pilate attempted to dissuade them by revisiting the possibility Jesus might be some kind of Jewish king after all, the crowd rejected his proposal and turned it against him with a veiled threat to report him if he didn't comply with their demands. The Jews reminded him that his job required an unwavering loyalty to Caesar. And ultimately, blinded by their feverish bloodlust, they prevailed against Pilate by emphatically declaring their own allegiance to the Roman empire. It's shocking to consider how the near-blasphemous statement, “We have no king but Caesar,” could have ever passed the lips of the chief priests. They were the spiritual leaders of a nation chafing under Roman rule. And they were also the ones who presided over a system of worship focused with expectancy on the coming of Messiah, the one Isaiah prophesied (9:7) would sit “upon the throne of David and over his kingdom.” So how could they do this? Sadly, I don't think we need to look any further than our own track record for the answer. How many times have we rejected the rule of King Jesus to give ourselves permission to say or do whatever satisfied our desires in the moment? The ability to self-authorize sinful behavior is a well-developed human skill. And I believe that's why the passage provides such a surprising number of precise details about this infamous moment. It says that Pilate was sitting on the judgment seat at a specific time on a specific day at a specific location. And just to make sure there could be no confusion regarding where it took place, it even gives us its Hebrew name. Information in the Biblical record is never superfluous. And I think John supplied these particulars to forever document this as a tragic turning point. It should serve to caution all of us regarding how easy it is to ignore the conviction of the Spirit, how deceived we can become when we do, and how far we can fall as a result. So, let's determine to allow this signpost to lead us away from that trap and toward a deeper fidelity to Jesus instead.

As Jesus stood on display before them with the blood from his wounds seeping through the purple robe Pilate's troops had draped over him in mockery, the religious elite pressed Pilate to finish him off by nailing him to a cross. The torture already inflicted had been at the procurator's command in a failed attempt to appease them, but he resisted their demands for crucifixion stating, for the third time, “I find no fault in him.” Then, the balance of John 19:6-11 records a tug-of-war that followed between the governor and Christ's accusers over the subject of authority, who possessed it and on what basis. Although the words

When I'm home, I usually watch the evening news to keep up with what's going on. But in this age of ubiquitous real-time video capturing a world becoming increasingly loveless, violent, and tragic, I'm finding the reports more difficult to watch. These days, correspondents frequently preface their stories with cautionary statements like, “This report contains images that may be disturbing.” And that would be an appropriate warning for the description of events recorded in John 19:1-5. It's a brutal account. But even though most of us instinctively turn away from scenes of cruelty, pain, and misery, it's important to resist that urge when confronting this passage. As hard as it is to take in, this disturbing portrait of our Lord's suffering is essential for comprehending the dimensions of his grace. With the crowd's insistent cries of, “Barrabas,” still ringing in Pilate's ears and his attempt to release Jesus collapsing around him, the governor ordered our Lord whipped with a scourge. It was a hideous implement of Roman punishment designed to inflict maximum damage. Made of leather straps embedded with pieces of jagged bone or metal, it literally tore the flesh from its victims and often resulted in their deaths. But Jesus survived which provided the soldiers additional opportunities to torture him. So, they pressed a crown of thorns into his scalp, dressed him in a purple robe while berating him with verbal abuse, and then used him as a human punching bag. After that, while continuing to claim, “I find no fault in him,” the procurator proceeded to have his bruised, bleeding, and broken prisoner paraded before the inflamed crowd. Weirdly, he seems to have been trying to avoid the crucifixion of an innocent man by putting that man's battered body on display. He apparently hoped the mob's bloodlust would be assuaged by seeing how much pain Jesus had already endured. So, that's why he invited them to “Behold the man!” That plan failed. But the invitation to behold or take in the scope of Christ's suffering is something every Jesus-follower needs to do. Each part of that abuse was a fulfillment of prophecy, woven into the divine plan for our redemption, and addressed a specific aspect of our sin-scarred condition. The ultimate sacrifice of Messiah's death on the cross was still to come, but not before he'd been wounded, bruised, chastised, and striped as explicitly predicted 700 years earlier in Isaiah 53:5. In that prophetic text, the Hebrew phase translated as

John 18:39-40 documents a very odd exchange between Pilate and the Jewish leaders that ultimately reveals the spectacular beauty of the gospel. After conducting his own interrogation of Jesus, Pilate determined he was not guilty of the charges brought by the Jewish leaders. In fact, the governor said, “I find no fault in him AT ALL.” However, instead of upholding the law and commanding the release of this prisoner he'd just declared to be innocent, he decided to try and appease the representatives of the high priest. He presented them with a convoluted offer apparently designed to help them save face. He asked if they wanted him to set Jesus free as the recipient of their Passover clemency tradition. Given his position of authority, it must have then come as a shock when they not only rejected his proposal but literally shrieked their surprising response shouting, “Not this man, but Barabbas!” Their bloodlust was at fever pitch. And if he hadn't understood that before, he certainly did then. They were demanding that someone who was a convicted criminal, guilty of violent theft according to John as well as insurrection and murder according to Luke (23:19), be released in place of the guiltless one Pilate had labeled, “King of the Jews.” It was a perverse and ugly scene but one that, like a dark background enhancing the experience of an exquisite work of art displayed against it, highlights the glory of God's grace provided in Christ. We know from the other Gospels (e.g. Mark 15:15) that Pilate acquiesced to the demands of the religious leaders by releasing Barabbas and ultimately delivering Jesus to them for crucifixion. The life of the faultless was taken in exchange for the guilty. And that should not only sound familiar, but it should also drive us to our knees in worship before the one who offered his sinless son to shoulder our iniquity and take upon himself the penalty we deserve that we might be set free from guilt and be clothed with his innocence. As 2 Corinthians 5:21 says, “He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” The impact of the truth conveyed by those words and the love that made it possible are beyond human capacity to even begin to comprehend. But from one Barabbas to another, let me just say that I want to spend every moment of the forgiven eternity I've received, as a result of the exchange that verse describes, in a manner that honors the one who willingly exchanged his life for mine.

I'm an introvert and very comfortable with silence, but I love the sound of my wife's voice. And I delight in pursuing the treasures to be discovered when she speaks. Whether she's asking me to pass the salt, telling me about her day, or verbally processing something she's going through, I find myself wanting to be present and fully engaged with each syllable. We're all naturally compelled to listen to and invest in the process of understanding what someone says when we have a deep connection with them. So, that should be most true within a relationship to Jesus. But I know that some Christ-followers struggle to hear him and have even subconsciously concluded that they're just not meant to be included in the conversation. If that's you, I invite you to consider the message at the heart of John 18:33-38. The high priest and Sanhedrin had fraudulently convicted Jesus of blasphemy, sentenced him to death (Matthew 26:65-66), and sent him with their representatives to secure a crucifixion order from the Roman governor. But Pilate was unwilling to simply rubber-stamp their plan. So, he brought the Lord inside the

I love riding rollercoasters. But while recently visiting a local theme park, I noticed and was impressed by something about them I'd not really considered before. Even after a wild ride of ups and downs and twists and turns at speeds designed to make you feel like things are out of control, they never really are. You always end up exactly where the engineers designed the ride vehicle to stop. That endpoint never varies by even an inch. And as unrelated as it may seem, that's what came to mind as I considered John 18:28-32. Following his betrayal, Jesus stood trial before the high priest and the other Jewish leaders who made up the religious tribunal known as the Sanhedrin. John doesn't provide us with visibility into these proceedings, but the three earlier-written Gospels do (e.g. Matthew 26:57-68). And they record an inquisition that was ultimately fruitless in its attempt to establish guilt for any crime except an acknowledgment by the accused that he was the Christ, the Son of God. That statement was judged to be blasphemous. And according to Jewish law, the punishment for blasphemy was death by stoning. So, this gave Caiaphas the religious cover he was looking for to get rid of Jesus. But there was a problem. The Jewish leaders had authority to convict someone of a capital crime, but only the Romans could administer the death penalty. That's why in the early hours of that infamous day, representatives of the Sanhedrin brought Jesus to the

There are few things more attractive than a campfire on a chilly night. Its warmth is comforting, its flickering light is mesmerizing, and the company of those sharing it is reassuring. But something tragic happened around the one described in John 18. The narrative in the middle section of the chapter switches back and forth between two scenes, revealing their striking contrasts. Verses 12-14 and 19-27 follow Jesus from the arrest in Gethsemane through his initial hearing. Verses 15-18 and 25-27 focus on the drama of Peter's denials. Jesus was led away in shackles to stand trial before the Jewish authorities. But first, he was subjected to pretrial questioning by Annas, the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest. It's unclear what the intended purpose was for this trial-before-the-trial, but what is clear is that tensions were already so sky high that nothing remotely resembling a fair hearing or lawful procedure could take place. John leaves it to the other Gospel writers to document the cruelties and injustices the Lord suffered during his official trial before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin (e.g., Mark 14:55-65), but he reminds us that all of it took place within the context of Jesus having been prejudged. Without any due process, he'd already been sentenced to death by the high priest in an earlier private meeting of the religious leadership (John 11:47-53). Still, throughout the sham interrogations, Jesus never attempted to hide, spin, or obfuscate. He took responsibility for and stood behind everything he'd said and done, making clear he'd conducted his ministry in the open for all to see and hear. On the other hand, Peter did exactly the opposite. While Jesus was inside withstanding his interrogators by welcoming the light of scrutiny, out in the courtyard, Peter was avoiding his by choosing to hide in the darkness of denial. This is puzzling because the text doesn't seem to indicate that there was a need for him to have feared being identified as one of Jesus' followers. He'd been escorted through the gate and onto the grounds by another disciple who, though unnamed, was known to the high priest and appears to have possessed the authority to do it. On top of that, the bystanders who confronted Peter don't seem to have held the kind of positions that would represent any real threat and were more than likely just curious. So, why was he insistent on denying his relationship with Jesus even after the Lord had warned him about it (John 13:38)? I don't think we can know for sure, and even if we could, the answer would most certainly be multilayered. But it's entirely possible that at least one of those layers had to do with the chill in the air and the allure of the campfire. Some of us have been there. We know what it's like to try to fit in around the world's fire circle hiding our identity as Jesus-followers to avoid feeling embarrassed about our faith. And even if it plays out more subtly than Peter's direct disavowals, the effect is the same. But because we've been there, we can imagine a little of what Peter must have experienced as he warmed his hands and was suddenly aware that the rooster was crowing. The feelings of regret must have been overwhelming as he recalled the words of his Master's prediction mingling with the sound of his denials on repeat in his mind. The juxtaposition of his failure unfolding on one end of that piece of real estate against what his Lord was enduring on the other must have been unbearable. And although this part of his story serves as a warning to resist the temptation of the campfire, Peter's faith journey doesn't end here. I'm grateful for the beautiful account of his repentance and restoration that unfolds in the chapters ahead. And that encourages us to know we can find recovery from our failures through Christ's forgiveness too.

I'm not now nor have I ever been an athlete, but I powerwalk from my home to the beach and back daily for exercise. My route takes about an hour and includes climbing several large hills. And every day, the final ascent requires me to decide all over again to push through my fatigue and embrace the challenge for the health benefit that results. People are inclined to avoid discomfort by nature. Our bodies come equipped with an elaborate sensory response system designed to help us avoid or escape it. So, unless we're forced to, yielding to an uncomfortable situation always requires a choice. And although I'm not in any way insinuating that a comparison can be made between the bit of resolve I exercise in overcoming reluctance to climb a hill during my workout and the Lord's determination to climb Golgotha to face the sufferings of the cross, I believe John 18:10-11 provides us the opportunity to consider the pain he CHOSE to endure for our redemption. Attempting to provide Jesus a chance to escape arrest, Peter grabbed one of the two swords in the disciples' possession (Luke 22:38) and attacked Malchus, the high priest's servant, cutting off his right ear. But the Lord immediately stepped into the fray, healed the man's wound (Luke 22:51), and commanded Peter to sheath his weapon. Then, he revealed in public the choice he'd made in private just moments before. Knowing full well what it would mean, he'd experienced intense agony as he wrestled with his Father regarding the

Have you ever misplaced the TV remote because you laid it down somewhere without thinking, stored something away for safekeeping and later forgot where you put it, or inadvertently left your credit card at a restaurant? Sure, you have. We all know what it feels like to lose something. But there are some of us who also know the other side of that emotion. They know what it's like to feel lost. And that's what John 18:7-9 speaks to. The troops dispatched by the religious leaders to arrest Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane were picking themselves up off the ground. They'd stumbled backward in an involuntary response to the majesty on display in the Lord's fearless acknowledgment that HE was the one they were looking for. And as they were getting back to their feet, verses 7-8 quote him giving them a second chance to identify the subject of their arrest warrant before once again confirming that HE was their target. After that, referring to his disciples, he said, “If you seek me, let these go their way.” That selfless sentence reveals the depth of his concern for his followers, but it also reveals something else. The Greek word translated as

My wife and I recently vacationed in Honolulu, Hawaii, and I went for a walk one morning along the Ala Wai Canal. As I strolled under the canopy of the trees that line the pathway, I suddenly came upon two men wielding swords – real, metal swords – the kind that belong in a movie not the hands of strangers just ahead of you on the footpath. And I instantly experienced a shot of adrenaline along with an urge to run away. Two-swords-to-none are not good odds. But after taking a second glance, I realized that these men weren't a threat after all. They were just using that public space to practice a form of martial arts. So, I kept on walking, my heart rate began returning to normal, and I watched them with fascination. But my initial reaction to that surprise encounter got me thinking about the first six verses of John 18. After celebrating Passover together in an upper room in Jerusalem, Jesus and his disciples had been on the move heading toward the northeast corner of the city as he taught them and prayed to his Father. Once outside the city walls, he led them across the Kidron Valley and into a garden called Gethsemane. The text describes it as a place they'd visited often, one where Judas would have expected them to go. I'll get back to that in a minute. But before going any further, I need to note that at this point in the narrative of Christ's passion, all three of the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) provide accounts of his raw and intense supplication to the Father. Often described as the

Confession alert! I've nursed a serious animosity toward the pastor of one of the mega-churches in the region where I live. He's well-known and I'm obviously not, so we don't run in the same circles. I only know him from news reports and his public statements. But I don't like him. No, it's more than that. I'm disgusted by him. And although I'm tempted to list all the reasons why, that would just be an attempt to justify the unjustifiable. My attitude has been sinful. Full stop. Regardless of anything else he's said or done, that man openly confesses Jesus as Savior. And that means we're brothers in the faith and will spend eternity together in the presence of the Lord. How then can I possibly imagine it's remotely acceptable to hold onto these feelings. I can't. There will be no room for my judgmentalism when we stand side by side before and face to face with the one whose perfect love drove him to the cross for the sins of us both. I've been giving myself permission to hold one of the Lord's precious ones in contempt, and I choose to repent. My sin was laid bare as I prepared to write this commentary on the final section of Christ's High Priestly Prayer recorded in John 17. After praying for himself and then for the disciples, verses 20-26 record the Lord's final two requests, and they're specifically for all future believers. That includes me. So, when he began by asking that his followers would exhibit a unity among themselves so striking it would serve as a testimony to his divinity, the ugliness of the disunity I was harboring in my heart was exposed. This is not an excuse in any way, but I don't think I'm the only guilty one here. As the log is being pulled from my own eye, I think I spot some splinters in others'. It's evident that oneness is not the first word that comes to mind when describing the current state of the U.S. church. We more often seem to reflect the polarization, distrust, and animosity of the world around us than the harmony Jesus prayed for. Don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating for an anything-goes, sloppy agapē. We exercise godly wisdom when we assess others' behaviors with humility in light of Scripture to avoid sin ourselves and be useful to the Holy Spirit in helping redirect those who've drifted off course spiritually. But we cross a line we should never trespass when we set ourselves up as the holiness or theology police and pass judgment on other believers. That's because it disallows the second thing Jesus prayed for us. In addition to requesting that his followers be one, he asked the Father to make it possible for them to one day be with him in heaven and experience his unfiltered glory. And there's no way for that to happen if we insist on dragging our unholy discord into that holy place. We need to deal with it on this side of heaven and as aggressively as possible. No one individual's repentance can clean up the church's relational mess. But if all of us who've contributed to it deal with our own, the impact will be profound. It'll align us with our Savior's desires and enable us to better serve as his witnesses. I'm determined to do my part. I'm dealing with the specific iniquity I've already confessed, but I'm also inviting the Holy Spirit's conviction regarding any other wrong-heartedness I've allowed to take root in my soul toward fellow believers. I want to be among those who become the answer to Jesus' prayer not the reason for it, and I bet you do too.

While establishing a new church in Silicon Valley years ago, the Lord provided me a job with what was then the highest-valued technology company in the world. But I was not a computer scientist, engineer, or coder. I barely knew how to send an email. I was in way over my head. And one day in a meeting, I came VERY close to exposing my ignorance and losing my job. I was clueless about nearly all the terminology being thrown around in the discussion that day. So as usual, I just kept my head down and mouth shut. But then, someone used the acronym

Having already asked that they be preserved in their understanding of the fatherhood of God and that in their relationships with each other they would display the unity of his family, John 17:13-16 continues the record of the Lord's petitions on behalf of his disciples. He prayed, “I come to you…that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves.” And with those beautiful words, he invited his Father to bless them with the gift of joy. But he wasn't referring to the shallow and superficial variety the world offers. He specifically requested that they experience HIS joy, the kind that fulfills or satisfies completely, a joy so totally unaffected by and independent of circumstances he could continue his request with this startling statement: “I do NOT pray that you should take them out of the world.” This is so profound and contrary to our lived experience it's hard to describe in a way that conveys its weightiness and elicits anything approaching an appropriate response because he was describing a joy that can STAND up to whatever life SERVES up. In other words, living within its blessing doesn't require exiting the world's realities. They can be faced without flinching when secure in the joy described in 1 Peter 1:8 as, “inexpressible and full of glory.” The disciples didn't deserve such a gift, and we certainly don't either. Yet, within hours of being nailed to a cross, Jesus amplified his loving grace by expressing this desire for us and asking his Father to fulfill it. But hold on a minute. There's even more here to fuel our gratitude. As if the requests he'd made up to this point weren't already awe-producing, there was more to come, including this: Jesus prayed, “Keep them from the evil one.” 1 Peter 5:8 describes this evil one, the devil, “like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.” And anyone who chooses to become a follower of Christ will be pursued by an enemy probing for vulnerabilities and weaknesses in a relentless attempt to undermine God's good plans for their life. But there's no need to fear. Our redeemer has already covered us with his prayer that the Father would enable us to be undevourable. And it's his joy that makes that possible. The two requests from Jesus in this section of his prayer go hand in hand. It's when our hearts are filled with joy that we have the power to withstand the devil's attempts to devour. That's why we're told in Nehemiah 8:10 that, “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” I've heard experts say that when communicators tell their audiences how to feel about what they've presented, they haven't done their job very well. The response should be obvious. But just in case it's not, this is me admitting my communication failure by saying I think the fact God the Son interceded before God the Father on our behalf that we might be joy-filled and undevourable should stir our hearts to sustained worship. It should evoke humble but unbridled praise filled with reverent amazement for the goodness of our Savior.

Sue and I have three kids who are now in their forties with families of their own. But when they were young and under our roof, our primary goal was to lovingly watch over, care for, train, and guide their lives in ways that would one day reproduce the values of our family in theirs, especially regarding our faith. We prayed that it would become a family trait. And it's a delight beyond expression to now witness our seven grandkids growing in their own relationships with Jesus as a result. John 17:11-12 marks the point in his High Priestly Prayer when Jesus began to make several specific appeals for his disciples, and these verses contain the first two. After clarifying that the reason for his supplication was that he would no longer be physically present with his disciples in the world, he highlighted the significance of the requests he was about to make by using an expression found nowhere else in Scripture. He prayed, “Holy Father,” and proceeded to ask that the disciples be kept or preserved in that name, and that they would experience the kind of unity among themselves that would echo the oneness of the Godhead. The Bible employs several names for God but none more frequently than

Jesus entered the climax of his earthly ministry through the portal of prayer. Between the Upper Room and Gethsemane on the way from the Last Supper to the Betrayal, he paused to intercede for himself, his disciples, and all future believers. The account of this exquisite supplication of Son to Father fills the whole of John chapter 17. And in the middle section focused on the first followers, after assessing the state of their spiritual development and just before making his requests on their behalf, he addressed a crucial distinction that would be at the heart of the rest of his prayer. He said, “I pray for THEM. I do NOT pray for the world.” This wasn't a statement of indifference toward those who weren't numbered among the disciples or of preference for those who were, and he certainly wasn't expressing a lack of compassion. In his response to the questioning of Nicodemus at the beginning of his ministry (John 3:16), he said he'd been sent by the Father precisely because, “God so loved the world.” So, what did he mean? The answer to that question requires a closer look at the Greek word

Sue and I will celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary this year, and I can hardly believe I just said that. It seems like only yesterday that we walked the aisle, stood before God with our friends and family as witnesses, and pledged our love to each other. But the reality is a lot of living has passed since that day. We've experienced all the highs and lows and twists and turns that a half-century can serve up, and by God's grace, we are more in love now than ever. I knew Sue was the one for me after our very first date. But it would be two years before I proposed and a year after that before we were married. Why? Because every relationship of significance, depth, and meaning must be built on two things that require time to develop: knowledge and belief. We first needed to invest in the process of getting to know each other beyond our surface-level acquaintance. Then, we needed to allow that knowing to develop into the believing that would enable us to place the full weight of our trust on each other. And although this is an imperfect picture, I think it does illustrate something Jesus described about the disciples just before interceding for them in his High Priestly Prayer. John 17:6-10 quotes him affirming that he'd revealed the Father to his disciples, that he considered each of them a divine gift, and that they were developing a holistic grip on God's word that was enabling them to become responsive to his specific instructions. But he also assessed the nature of their relationship with himself when he described what they'd come to KNOW and what they'd come to BELIEVE. In verse 7, he said they knew something about him now they hadn't known before. They were beginning to comprehend the nature of his divinity. That's why in verse 8, he could say they'd come to understand that he'd been sent from or, more literally, out of the Father. But as important as it was for them to KNOW this about him, it's clear the Lord's primary desire was that this knowing would lead to believing. So, when verse 8 concludes with the affirmation that his disciples had crossed the threshold into faith, I can almost hear the pleasure in his voice when he announced to his Father, “They have BELIEVED that you sent me.” The word translated as

A week ago, after playing my acoustic guitar to help lead worship at church, a man approached me to comment on the beautiful sound of my instrument. I don't know what he thought of my playing. He didn't say. But he was right about my guitar. It sounds great. It's a blond, jumbo Guild I've had for fifty years. And like all well-made wooden instruments, it's grown old very gracefully. As the wood has aged, it's developed a wonderfully rich tone that I absolutely love. But I value that guitar for another and more important reason. I didn't buy it. It was a gift. As a young man, I toured and recorded with one of the early Jesus Music bands. In those days, Christian music was not an industry like it is now, and artists barely survived financially. So, although my guitar desperately needed an upgrade, I just couldn't afford it. But then one day, someone I'd never met who'd been blessed by our music and believed in our ministry walked up and handed me a case containing that beautiful Guild. It had belonged to him, but he said he believed the Lord wanted me to have it. And as I stood there trying to find the right words to express my gratitude, I was also overwhelmed by the realization that I held in my hands a divine gift. Before Jesus prayed FOR his disciples, he prayed ABOUT them. In John 17:6-10, he summarized the state of their spiritual preparedness while highlighting key elements of his disciple-making strategy. He began by praying, “I have manifested your name,” which referred to the ways he'd introduced the disciples to God as Father. And embracing the father-heart of God is foundational to a life of faith in part because understanding who he is makes it possible for us to comprehend who we are. I believe that's why the Lord completed that sentence with a description of his disciples as, “the men you have GIVEN me.” They weren't just a random assortment of misfits he got stuck with. He viewed each of them as a gift from his Father. And this recognition of their value was profound in its implications. It provided them with the basis for a whole new identity. But if they were anything like the rest of us, it would have been a steep challenge for them to believe that it was true. I'm sure they were as deeply aware of their flawed histories, shortcomings, and sinfulness as we are and just as prone to self-doubt. It's my guess that it was exactly for that reason that Jesus went on to acknowledge several more times in his prayer that he considered THEM to have been divine GIFTS. The text makes clear that they could hear what he was saying. And although his words were addressed to the Father, it's obvious that they were the intended audience as with each repetition of this stunning truth he pushed back against the lies of the Accuser and affirmed their worth. But this High Priestly Prayer is not recorded in John's gospel for the sake of the disciples. They were on-scene and heard it live. It's in the Bible so we can be changed by the impact of these powerful words from the mouth of Jesus describing how he sees US. So, let's reject shame and humbly choose to live within the new identity this astounding truth makes possible: He considers each of us a divine gift.

There's a new coffee shop in my neighborhood, and I stop there most mornings to grab a cup on my way to spend a few minutes watching the surfers down at the pier. When it first opened, I would save time by ordering ahead using an app, step inside just long enough to pick up my drink, and then be on my way without having to interact with anyone. But a couple of months ago, during my morning prayer time, I sensed the Lord prompting me to change my routine and spend the extra time it would take to place my order in-store at the counter. I'm an introvert and a bit of an efficiency freak. So, I dislike engaging in small talk with salespeople, and I hate taking longer to accomplish something than necessary. But as I yielded to the Spirit's nudge, my attention was drawn to the name badge on the apron of the young man who took my order. And after leaving with my coffee, I caught myself reflexively curious about and praying for him randomly throughout the day. Once I knew his name, I couldn't just dismiss him as the bearded barista wearing the newsboy hat. That's when I realized this was why God redirected my pattern that morning, and it's why I've continued the practice ever since. As I've taken the time to learn the names of the partners at that store, I've become invested in their lives in a deeper way and can pray for them with true empathy. Names have a unique power to connect us with others. A person's name is an invitation to a revelation of who they are. And that illustrates something from John 17 where the longest of the Lord's documented prayers is found. It's known as the High Priestly Prayer and takes up the whole chapter. The first five verses allow us to listen in on Jesus praying for himself. Then in the next fourteen, the focus shifts to the disciples as he intercedes for them. But before making any requests on their behalf, verses 6-10 quote him reporting to his Father on their spiritual development. And since God is omniscient without needing to be informed about anything, this was clearly done for our sakes. Jesus was using this update to provide future believers who would read these words with a glimpse into his discipleship strategy for all of us. According to this passage, his plan involves several specific goals with the first being identified when he prayed, “I have manifested your name.” This phrase describes what leads to the essential first step in every Jesus-follower's journey. It's what makes a life of faith possible. The Greek word rendered as

John chapter 17 provides the opportunity for us to eavesdrop on Jesus praying to the Heavenly Father. His betrayal and arrest in Gethsemane were imminent; he'd completed his ministry among the people of Galilee, Samaria, and Judea; and he'd just concluded the final preparation of his disciples for the disorienting events that would surround his crucifixion. But before stepping into the final phase of his mission and fixing his gaze on Calvary, John described him lifting his eyes toward heaven. The transcript of what flowed from his heart in that pivotal moment ripples out in concentric circles. He prayed for himself (verses 1-5), his original disciples (verses 6-19), and then for all those who would come to faith through their testimony (verses 20-26). As we consider his prayer, it calls for deep humility and a reverence for the undeserved privilege it invites us into. This is God, the Son, speaking to God, the Father! The first section of the prayer begins with Jesus giving voice to what both Father and Son already knew. The hour had come. They'd arrived at the fulcrum of redemptive history. The plan for saving our lost race had reached its climax. But his next words were stunningly unexpected. He understood – more than any of us have the capacity to grasp – what was about to be required of him. And yet, there's no complaint or expression of dread. Instead, he welcomed the coming suffering as that which would both glorify him and enable him to reflect glory back to the Father. Glory is the divine word for beauty. And he said this reflected glory would result from the exercise of his authority to provide eternal life to all those the Father would give him. But then, he offered a surprising definition of eternal life. Instead of describing it in terms of duration – life without end – he described it in terms of relationship. He wasn't denying that it continues forever as the word eternal implies, but he was saying it's far more than that. The word translated here as

My wife and I raised three kids of our own, have seven grandchildren, and during our four decades of pastoral ministry, cared for many families with little ones. So, we've engaged in our share of baby talk. That's when an adult attempts to communicate with a youngster by simplifying what they want to say and the vocabulary they use so they can better match the child's maturity level. It can also involve bending down to make eye contact and sometimes even changing their tone of voice to sound more childlike. And something like that is what I see in John 16:28 where Jesus offered the disciples a simplified version of something he'd previously told them more than once but seemed hard for them to understand. The disciples make an easy target, but I don't mean to seem condescending. Those poor guys were being invited to comprehend and experience things WAY beyond their frame of reference. Jesus was preparing them to navigate the pivotal moment in human history when the Maker of the Universe clothed in human flesh would sacrifice himself to rescue a fallen race. I mean, come on. I'm prepared to cut them some slack. But as the Lord wound down his pre-crucifixion instructions, it was essential that they at least grasped the main point. So, with careful and simple language he told them, “I came forth from the Father and have come into the world. Again, I leave the world and go to the Father.” And that seems to have done the trick. I'm paraphrasing now, but in verses 29 and 30, they responded by basically saying, “Thank you. We finally get it, and our faith in who you are is now secure.” But Jesus knew it wasn't that simple, and in verses 31 and 32, beginning with a searing rhetorical question – “Do you now believe?” – he prophesied that they would all soon abandon him. And as harsh as that may seem, he didn't leave them hanging there twisting in the wind. With what I can only imagine as the kind of loving words and warm tones someone would use to reassure a confused child, he went on to comfort them by saying he wouldn't really be left alone. The Father would be with him. Then, verse 33 records the Lord's final two sentences before John's narrative begins to steamroll toward the cross. They're filled with rich compassion. He told his disciples that all the things he'd taught them were specifically designed to give them peace through the coming storm. He didn't sugarcoat the impact of what they were about to experience. He said that in the world, they WOULD have

One of my lifelong mentors is a widely known and well-regarded Christian leader. During a conversation I had with him several months ago, he urged me to introduce myself to one of the teaching pastors on staff at a large church near my home. He'd met the young man, was impressed by his sincere devotion to Jesus, and thought it would be good for me to become acquainted with him too. So, I messaged that pastor to see if we could arrange to get together for lunch sometime. But I knew cold-calling that busy leader with no idea who I was would probably not result in a response, at least not a timely one. So, I name-dropped. Name-dropping is when you allude to a famous or respected person you know for the purpose of impressing others or gaining their attention. In the email I sent requesting the meeting, I mentioned my mentor's name and said I was reaching out at his suggestion. And that did the trick. Although we've since developed a friendship that stands on its own, our initial lunch appointment was made based on our mutual respect for my mentor. So, in a way, you could say our relationship was formed in his name. In a similar way, John 16:23-27 quotes our Savior declaring that his name would become the foundation for his followers having a direct relationship with God, the Father. Using the phrase, "In that day," to describe the fast-approaching time when the barrier of sin would be removed through his cross and resurrection coupled with their love for and faith in him, Jesus said his figurative language would give way to plain speaking, they would no longer bring their requests TO him but THROUGH him to the Father, and they would experience the joy of answered prayer. But he wasn't saying this would be the result of simply annunciating the collection of vowels and consonants that make up the word spelled J-E-S-U-S as though it possesses some kind of power in itself that impresses Father God, invokes his loving response, and unlocks his blessing. Even in the story I told a moment ago, it wasn't my mentor's moniker that gave me entrée with the young pastor. It was the shared honor we have for the kind of man he is, what he stands for, and what he's accomplished. When Jesus told his disciples, “Whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you,” he wasn't describing some kind of spiritual incantation. He wasn't saying that when they closed their prayers with the phrase, “In Jesus' name,” it would guarantee a positive divine response. He wasn't talking about the PHRASEOLOGY or how their requests were worded. He was talking about the PERONALITY or whose life was at the heart of their requests. But this is not just about how we pray. It's about all the ways we live as Jesus-followers. Scripture tells us we're baptized in his name, receive the Holy Spirit who is sent in his name, gather together in his name, engage in acts of kindness in his name, minister to children in his name, speak and teach in his name, and cast out demons and work miracles in his name. Doing so means positioning ourselves within the authority and standing made available to us by who Jesus IS and choosing to align ourselves with his will, not our own. It's only then that the potent promises revealed in this passage are realized. So, my prayer for you today is that your life will be filled with the indescribable experience of direct access to Father God and the joys of answered prayer…in Jesus' name.

Last Christmas, instead of typical gifts, my wife and I gave our children and their families experiences we could enjoy with them. For instance, one of the families received a two-night stay at an indoor, waterpark resort near their home in the state of Oregon. But the trip wouldn't take place for another six weeks. So, although our young grandkids were excited about the prospect of going there with us, helping them comprehend the time between the announcement of the gift as we gathered around the Christmas tree and its fulfillment a month and a half later proved a bit of a challenge. When you're as old as me, six weeks seems like no time at all. But for little ones, it can feel like forever. We often try to help them relate to the passage of time by describing it in terms of how many "sleeps" until a thing takes place. But if it's any more than about three, their eyes usually glaze over, and they lose the thread. In this case, it would be forty-two "sleeps," an unwieldy number for them to work out in their young minds. So, along with their parents, we tried to find a way to explain it that would allow them to delight in a joyful anticipation while awaiting the arrival of the adventure, but they were just too young to see it in those terms. We had to satisfy ourselves with the knowledge that the eventual pleasure they would have when the day finally came would erase the disappointment of delay. I don't mean this to sound condescending, but John 16:16-22 describes an exchange between the disciples and Jesus that sounds similar. It was regarding an expression he used to help them measure the time between the announcement and fulfillment of two predictions he made. He told them a time was coming when he would depart from them and a time when they would see him again. He used the phrase, “a little while,” to describe how soon these events would take place, and the disciples wanted him to clarify how long that would be. But it was just not possible for them grasp it. At first glance, it may seem he was being purposefully vague, but the Lord was being as precise as possible given the limitations of their understanding. He was speaking prophetically about two different departures (his death on the cross and his ascension) as well as two separate arrivals (his resurrection and his second coming) that would all be linked together in ways incomprehensible to them at the time. And to do so required using terminology from his timeless realm of eternity that went over their heads. There was just no way to satisfy them. So instead, he turned their attention to the overwhelming joy they would ultimately experience when these things were fulfilled even if there was some short-term sorrow resulting from their lack of understanding. To do this, he used the illustration of a mother whose labor pains are completely erased when she gets to hold her baby. It's as though she's been emotionally transported directly from the promise of her pregnancy to its fulfillment, and in the happiness of that moment, every discomfort is forgotten. We always think we can comprehend God's timing. But the truth is his eternal perspective is more in every way than any of us can grasp. So, we often find ourselves insisting God provide us with greater clarity than we can actually handle. Instead, let's be people who rest in the assurance of his faithfulness, refuse to be overtaken by the disappointment of delay, and live in the delight of the joyful anticipation that all God has promised us will come to pass right on time.

Having told the disciples his return to the Father would facilitate sending them the Holy Spirit, Jesus began to describe two aspects of the Spirit's mission: convincing and communicating. John 16:8-11 contains the Lord's description of the first of these. Most English New Testament versions translate the Greek verb used to quote his description of this world-facing part of the Spirit's work by using the word

Jesus had told his disciples he'd soon be leaving them and that his departure would expose them to persecution. These two things – anticipation of the loss of his physical presence along with the prospect of their personal suffering – had caused them to experience sorrow of heart according to Jesus in John 16:6. But the previous verse quotes him scolding them for not asking where he was going. That was because answering that question, if sincerely asked, would have given him the opportunity to answer the more important question of why he was going there, and that would have allowed him to directly address the roots of their sadness. It's certain he remembered that both Peter and Thomas had previously asked the “where” question. But those queries were all about determining how they could go with him. None of them had bothered to ask the “why” question. They were so consumed with concern for how his departure would negatively impact their lives they hadn't even considered there might be another side to the coin. That's why in verse 7, he told them that even though they weren't asking, he wanted them to know the reason he would be departing. He said it was so he could send the Holy Spirit to them. His leaving would facilitate the Spirit's coming, and he told them that was to their advantage. But their context for relating to God had been completely centered in the living, breathing, touchable, fully human person of Jesus. So, the concept of an invisible Spirit being even a suitable substitute for their Master's presence, let alone a far more valuable one, would have been hard for them to understand. Of course, that would dramatically change once they experienced the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the Day of Pentecost. But until then, all of this remained a mystery they didn't appear to be too anxious to pursue. And sadly, that describes some Christ-followers today. They've placed their faith in Jesus as savior, experienced his forgiveness, become students of his word, and sincerely offered him their worship. But they hesitate in their pursuit of the power of his Spirit. And whether that's due to a lack of exposure to what the Bible teaches about him, a negative reaction to how some people have misrepresented him, or an uncertainty regarding how to engage him, to the extent it's true, they simply can't experience all God intends for them. It's the presence, power, and guidance of the Holy Spirit that animates our faith and makes it pulsate with the life of Jesus. Without that, all we're left with is a dry theology, a moral philosophy, and religious practices. I want more than that, and I'm sure you do too. But more importantly, that's what the Lord wants for us. In fact, Ephesians 5:18 commands us to “Be filled with the Spirit.” It's not a suggestion. And the original word translated there as filled literally means to be as full as possible. It's our Lord's intention that we experience an on-going fullness of the Holy Spirit, and he made clear how we can. Luke 11:13 says, “If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him!” So, let's ask.

It's hard to stumble over something you can see. It's the unknown, unexpected, hidden, and unobserved things that trip us up. When I was a kid at summer camp, our cabin leaders used to take us on flashlight hikes at night. And I learned that even in the dark on an unfamiliar trail with uneven terrain and many obstacles, I could maintain my footing if I just kept my light pointed straight ahead and my stride within its beam. That's the imagery that comes to mind when I consider the quote contained in verse 1 of John 16. Jesus had just been preparing his disciples for the inevitability of the persecution they would face. And that preparation included a reminder that they would not face it alone. The Holy Spirit would be with them. But then, before elaborating more fully on the power and scope of the Spirit's ministry, he paused to give them another powerful promise. He said the things he'd spoken to them would keep them from stumbling. He was assuring them that no matter how dark the circumstances, how treacherous the conditions, or how cleaver the strategies arranged against them, his words would be sufficient to enable them to keep their feet. The things he'd taught them over their three years together were not just a random assortment of nouns and verbs. Each syllable was strategically arranged to provide the bright light that would secure their steps over the path ahead. In the next 2 verses, he reiterated the certainty and severity of the opposition they would face as well as why. But then in verse 4, he encouraged them once again that they had been fully prepared to face it by all he'd taught them. And this is true for all believers. The words of Jesus combined with the full array of divine commands, guidance, and wisdom contained in Holy Scripture – what the Apostle Paul described in Acts 20:27 as “the whole counsel of God” – provide all the light we need to illuminate and secure our way over, around, and through any demonic scheme to topple us. The Bible is not just a collection of unrelated stories, sayings, and requirements. It's a highly focused compilation of words (plural) that become an incredibly powerful word (singular) irradiating the darkness around us. Psalm 119:105 says “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” And as we carefully keep that light pointed straight ahead and our stride within its beam, the Lord's promise to his disciples at the start of John 16 becomes ours too. That's why it's critically important for Jesus-people to develop an ever-growing hunger for and knowledge of the Bible – the word of God. Our spiritual lives literally depend on it. So, please let this be a reminder not to allow another day to get away from you without spending some time in the book. Implementing a defined reading plan is a great way to approach it. But don't allow your lack of one to intimidate you. Just open to any page, start absorbing what the Lord's embedded there for you to discover, and ask him to reveal more of himself to you through it. He will! Let me close by declaring over you Jude 24 to 25: “Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to God our Savior, who alone is wise, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and forever. Amen.”

In my opinion, the word hate is the strongest in the English language for expressing negative emotion. There are others such as detest, abhor, and loathe, but these and similar terms are usually reserved to communicate an intensity a step or two below full-blown hatred. Once it reaches that level, the emotion dial has no more stops. And it can often erupt in extreme action. That's what makes this word dangerous. So, when John quotes Jesus using its Greek equivalent seven times in the final ten verses of chapter 15, it grabs our attention. Jesus NEVER exaggerated. He wasn't being hyperbolic when he told his disciples in verse 19, “The world HATES you.” But he didn't mean that every person on Earth would be their enemy. The word translated as world in this passage refers to the way it's arranged or the system behind it like the way a reporter might use the word Washington to describe the U.S. government not all citizens of the District of Columbia. He wanted to make sure his followers weren't surprised when the satanic system operating in the shadows of this sin-scarred world would burst out from behind the scenes and manifest itself in open hostility toward them as his representatives. He explained that they would be targeted specifically because his words and works had exposed the sin at the heart of this system. And that's what he was referring to in verse 21 when he said, “They do not KNOW him who sent me.” But the word translated as know is not the one that would be used for the beginning of a pursuit of knowledge. He wasn't describing someone who hadn't yet had a chance to get to know him. John captured his meaning by using a word that describes a fullness of knowledge that has already been gained. In other words, Jesus was making clear that at the core of the world's hatred of him was a REJECTION of the knowledge of his Father. Romans 1:20-21 puts it this way: “They are without excuse, because, although they knew God, they did not glorify Him as God.” So, Jesus was warning the disciples to EXPECT fierce opposition. And I think it's clear he was speaking beyond them to all of us who follow in their footsteps. Like that first group of Jesus-people, we've been called out of the world to reflect God's glory back into it. And as we do, we WILL attract the hateful response of a system arrayed in purposeful opposition to HIM. And that response can manifest in many unpleasant ways. When life feels like you're under attack, you probably are. But it's important for us to remain clear about where that opposition comes from. It's the satanic structure behind the scenes of this world not its people. Our God is deeply in love with its people. They're not our enemy. They're our mission. Ephesians 6:12 says, “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against...spiritual hosts of wickedness.” If we get confused about who we're wrestling with, we can find ourselves at odds with our calling and attempting to confront a spiritual enemy using political, rhetorical, or material weaponry that targets the very people Jesus is seeking to save. We need to confront our spiritual adversary with spiritual weaponry. 2 Corinthians 10:4-5 says, "The weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for...casting down...every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God." That's why when Jesus brought this passage to a climax, he reiterated his promise to send us the Helper – the Holy Spirit – who would lead the way in testifying of him in the face of the world's hostility. And in the light of that glorious promise, he was able to make one more. And although addressed to his disciples, it's one we can confidently claim as well. In the power of the Spirit, we will be enabled to withstand the world's hate and become his witness-bearers. Let's trust him to fulfill that promise in and through our lives today.

Have you ever been part of a schoolyard pick? That's the process where a group of people are divided into teams by those who've been designated as leaders. It can be either a traumatic experience or an exhilarating one depending on how early you're chosen. Turns are taken and selections made based on assessments of potential value to the teams until one person is left to be assigned by default. And that person is keenly aware of not really being chosen at all. On the other hand, if you're the first selected, it's a huge esteem-boost to know you were wanted, REALLY wanted. I know there can't be a true comparison but imagine the thunderous impact of the Lord's words to his disciples recorded in John 15:16 when they heard their master say, “I chose you.” Add to that their awareness that unlike what happens in a schoolyard, this choice was made with full knowledge of their inadequacy. It wasn't based on an evaluation of what they could offer. That would have meant it carried an unbearable weight of expectation none of them could possibly fulfill. It even preceded their choosing him. Their state of chosenness rested solely on the Savior's unconditional and unchanging love. Their hearts must have been ready to burst! If this wasn't already more than their souls could take in, Jesus went on to say that beyond anything they could aspire to, they had been

At one point years ago, I needed to support my family while planting a new church, and I got a job as an accountant for a large tech company. It was during one of the information economy's boom cycles, and the pace was crazy. There was so much work to do it became difficult to keep track of it all including remembering to pick up documents I'd send to the printer down the hall. As soon as I'd hit the print button on my computer, something else would need my attention and I'd forget to retrieve the copy. So, I came up with the idea of sticking a post-it note to my shirt before getting interrupted. That way, even if I got distracted and forgot about the print job, eventually someone would see the note on my chest and ask what it was for. And that would remind me to go to the printer. Since then, I've become grateful for reminders. And we encounter an important one in the four-verse section that begins with John 15:12. Jesus revisited what he'd previously described in chapter 13 as a NEW commandment. But this time he emphasized its importance by saying it was HIS. It belonged to and flowed from his OWN sacrificial love and would be the new standard for how his followers would bear his image in this world. And he chose to remind them of this amid his invitation to abide in him as branches rooted in a vine because their ability to fulfill it would be completely dependent on having a deep connectedness to HIM. He told them there's no greater way of expressing this kind of love than to lay down one's life. And although he was certainly prefiguring what he was about to do on the cross, I don't think he meant them to understand dying in someone's place as the only way to demonstrate it. The Greek word used to describe this laying-down is not specifically about dying. At its core, it describes something's placement or how it's positioned. I believe Jesus was saying that those who follow him will express his love by how they posture their lives in relation to others. Instead of pursuing a position above them, they will devote themselves, as he did, to coming under them. Along with this, he clarified to whom they were to offer this love. He did this by his use of the word translated into English as

My wife and I live near the Disneyland Resort in Southern California and have annual passes to its theme parks. We usually spend one full day a month there. And that might reasonably make you wonder why a retired couple would want to spend so much time at a place designed for families with young kids? Well, we genuinely enjoy going on the rides and love the scenery, the food, and being surrounded by the sounds of families having fun together. So, the answer to the question is…it makes us happy. The desire for happiness is a very human thing. In fact, I live in a country that described the pursuit of happiness in its Declaration of Independence as an unalienable right. But as wonderful as happiness can be, it can't compare to joy. And it's joy that Jesus calls us to in John 15:11. The chapter opens with Jesus' words, “I am the true vine.” And then it records him teaching his disciples that abiding or remaining tightly and vitally connected to him in a relationship of welcome to his life-giving words and submission to his loving commands is the key to a blessed and fruitful life. That's a lot to chew on, and he could have easily ended this part of their training right there. But he went a step further and revealed the ultimate purpose behind his invitation to abide. He told them it was all about his desire that they experience joy. He described it as HIS joy. Distinct from any other source, this joy is a gift that flows from himself. He said his joy remains. It's not the temporary or transient kind that comes and goes. And he also said it fills us up. The original Greek here expresses the concept of a container as full as it can possibly be, unable to contain even a single drop more. And if Jesus wants us to have joy like that, how can we possibly go on settling for mere happiness instead. Don't get me wrong. Happiness is great! I love being happy. But joy and happiness are two very different things. Although they can produce similar feelings, they come from completely different places and play entirely different roles in our lives. Happiness is a reaction to something outside us. Its source is external. We experience it as delight when we're in the presence of someone we love, engaged in a pleasurable activity, recalling a cherished memory, or having a delicious meal. It serves to provide a temporary lift to our outlook. Joy is a state of wellbeing within us. Its source is internal. We experience it as a steadying peace when we're facing heartbreak, confronted by challenges, approaching an uncertain future, or dealing with disappointment. It serves to provide a different and better outlook altogether. Happiness flavors life, but joy sustains it. That's why Jesus invites us to draw near and remain close to him. Beyond the shallow and narrow scope of happiness, he wants us to know the overflowing fullness of his sustaining joy from a well that's deep and wide. What an awesome invitation! Let's respond by choosing with fresh passion to pursue and press into him with everything we've got, so that as he said, our "joy may be full."

Lately, I've found myself less than enthused about seeing my doctor. Why? Because in this stage of my life, those visits almost always conclude with him telling me how much more I should exercise and how much less I should eat. And I tend to walk out of those appointments feeling like I've disappointed him. But the after-visit plan he prints out and hands to me when I leave his office is not designed to increase the quality of my relationship with him, it's purpose is to help me live longer and better. And that thought helps me comprehend the treasure contained in John 15:9-10. In the previous passage, Jesus invited his disciples to abide in him. He warned them of the hazards encountered by those who don't and described some of the rich benefits enjoyed by those who do. Then, he amplified this appeal by inviting them to abide in his LOVE. And he defined that love as the same kind the Father has for him. Let's just pause and stand in awe of that jaw-dropping truth for a moment. When the hiking trail bursts out of the woods into a glorious meadow with a view of a majestic peak, you just have to stop and take in the beauty of the scene. And the Savior's words here present us with such a stunning and humbling revelation we simply can't go any further without reflecting on its magnitude. You and I are loved by the Son of God with the same purity, intensity, and consistency that he is loved by the Father. The weight and impact of that realization is literally staggering. It's so profound it should never cease to cause our knees to buckle with reverence. So, how is it even possible that the Lord would need to follow that statement with an appeal to remain in his love? It's heartbreaking to think we're so fickle and full of ourselves we'd have to be reminded not to lose interest in the love of Jesus. But that's the sad reality. And when we do, although his love for us remains steadfast, we cease to enjoy all that it offers. That's why Jesus went on to say there's a way to insure it doesn't happen. He said if we keep his commandments, we'll abide in his love. It's not that his affection is adjusted based on our levels of obedience. He doesn't love us more when we follow his commands and less when we don't. He loves us the same no matter what. Jeremiah 31:3 says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love.” And Romans 5:8 tells us, “God demonstrates His…love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” But being the object of Christ's unchanging love is not the same as benefitting from it. Obeying the Lord's commands is not about proving our devotion to him by how consistently we adhere to a checklist of approved behaviors. It's about entering the environment where we can flourish within his love. It's only when we follow our Maker's instructions for how life should be lived that everything actually works as he intends and results in our experiencing peace that passes understanding (Philippians 4:7), joy that's inexpressible (1 Peter 1:8), and life more abundant (John 10:10). And that's what we all want, isn't it? So, let's think of these two precious verses as a kind of after-visit plan designed by the one who loves us more than we can ever know to help us fully benefit from that love.

Burnout. Jesus tried to warn me. One morning, nine years into my first pastorate, I woke with a strong sense from the Lord that something in my life needed urgent attention. And that alert was accompanied with the impression that he would restrain its consequences for one year to give me time to cooperate with him in addressing it. I'd already suffered a case of shingles and seen my doctor about a chronic eye twitch, both of which can be brought on by stress. So, assuming the problem was related to overwork in my noble attempt to be a productive, modern pastor, I set about to make what I thought were appropriate adjustments. But without first humbly seeking God regarding what was really wrong, I wasted precious time and energy addressing the wrong things. I concluded that what was required was changing the way our church was staffed, adjusting my work-life balance, and developing a hobby. But focusing on these kinds of things was like treating the symptoms while ignoring the disease. And eventually, the noisy racket from my self-help activity drowned out the Spirit's cautioning voice. Then, almost exactly one year later, I was taking a seminary course that required all the students to complete a personal spiritual assessment. The professor selected a few of them to review with the class, and mine happened to be the first chosen. He called my name and asked me to stand while he commented on my results. Thinking I was about to get some public affirmation, I confidently got to my feet and was completely unprepared for what happened next. He pointed his finger at me and said emphatically, “Unless you radically change how you're living, you WILL lose your marriage, family, ministry, and health.” That withering moment proved to be what author, Sheldon Vanauken, described as a “severe mercy,” and it changed the spiritual trajectory of my whole life. In an instant, all my efforts to fix myself were exposed as folly, and I immediately took a leave of absence from the church to desperately press into Jesus for his help. This already-long story would become much longer if I described the details of the healing journey that resulted. But I'll say this: I learned the importance and blessings of abiding. And that's what John 15:4-8 records Jesus teaching his disciples. The word translated as abide in this passage can also be rendered as stay or continue, and it points to the essential truth that the fruitful life we were created to enjoy will never be the result of our labors, however well-motivated. It can only be experienced by remaining deeply connected to Jesus. He told his followers that when a branch ceases to abide in the vine, it withers. And he said it's the withered branches that get burned up. That wasn't a threat of punishment. It was a statement of fact that's as true for people as it is for plants in a vineyard. Burnout, which can be defined as fatigue, frustration, stress, depression, and apathy wrapped in a profound sense of futility, is the inevitable result of failing to abide. Life cannot flow FROM us unless it's first flowing INTO us. Fruitfulness begins with the vine not the branch and is the natural, effortless result of abiding. Stress is a check engine light on the dashboard of our souls sounding the alarm when vital connection to Jesus has been compromised. But as much as these verses provide a strong word of caution, they also, contain an astounding set of promises. Jesus pledged to abide in US as we abide in HIM and to unleash the fruitfulness he intends. He defined abiding as allowing his words to flow into us like life-giving nourishment from a vine, and that when we do, our desires will get reshaped and result in the kind of praying that gets answered. He also said the Father receives glory through our abiding and that it will identify us as his disciples. I think you get the point. Staying plugged into Jesus matters. A lot. So, my prayer is that you won't need to face your own moment of “severe mercy” before addressing the issue of abiding. Do it now.

My wife bought a pair of pruning shears the other day, and that act marked a significant turning point in her life. I'm not joking. It may not seem like a big deal to you, but anyone acquainted with the tenderness of that woman's deeply sensitive heart would immediately recognize that the idea of cutting away part of a living thing, even to promote its greater fruitfulness, goes against her nature. So, for her to purchase and own something designed for that purpose is quite remarkable. But she was ultimately compelled to do it for love's sake. I don't use that word lightly. She LOVES this world God created and everything that reflects his life within it including the plants in her flower and vegetable garden. And although that love struggles a bit with the concept of pruning, it's also what ultimately caused her to order the shears. One of the tests of true love is its willingness to express itself in actions that are costly to the lover but benefit the loved. And that's what we encounter in the first three verses of John 15 as Jesus opens his parable of the vine and branches and introduces his disciples to a form of divine tough love. After identifying the story's cast of characters – himself as the vine, the Father as the vinedresser, and his followers as the branches – the Lord described two truths about spiritual pruning. First, he said there's a big difference between pruning and removing. He told his disciples that unfruitful branches are simply removed while the vinedresser's careful work of pruning is reserved only for those branches that are already fruitful so they can be more so. He was preparing them for those times when they would encounter the tender blade of the Father's loving confrontation. Jesus wanted them to understand that there would be times when they would feel the pinch of God addressing attitudes, habits, and behaviors that need to be trimmed away because they constrict the flow of his life in them and hinder their fruitfulness. But he was assuring them that the short-term pain experienced in those times would be worth surrendering to. Consider the Bible's list of the fruit the vinedresser seeks to promote in the branches. Galatians 5:22-23 says, “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” And I ask you, who wouldn't want to have more of those qualities flowing from their life? God's tender heart is certainly not insensitive to the trauma caused by the cutting away of those spiritually unproductive things we've allowed to take root in our lives. But his love compels him to employ his shears from time to time, and we should welcome him to do so. The second truth about spiritual pruning revealed in this passage is that it's the natural and unavoidable result of exposure to his words. He told his followers that without even knowing what was happening, the things he'd taught them had already produced in them a measure of cleansing. And in this context, that word is synonymous with pruning. In other words, he was saying that the word of God, the Bible, among other things, is the vinedresser's knife. It carefully reveals and deals with anything inhibiting our fruit-bearing. So, developing a regular habit of exposing ourselves to it causes the pruning we all want and need to become less often a painful confrontation and more of an expected and welcomed occurrence. If you want to see more of the fruit of the Spirit produced in your life, do yourself a favor. Create a well-worn pathway to the Scriptures, submit to their pruning work, and rejoice in what begins to grow as a result.

I simply can't consider John 14:30-31 without becoming emotional. The profound courage and determined sacrifice embedded in my Savior's words recorded there always elicit a reaction from deep within my soul. First, he told his disciples that the time for talk was nearing an end and the time for action was at hand. He said his consummate confrontation with the devil was on final approach. He referred to him as the “ruler of this world” – a title that results from the forfeiture by our sin of the dominion God originally gave humanity. And by identifying him that way, he was signaling what was at stake: sacrificially satisfying the consequences of mankind's rebellion and restoring God's intensions for his creation. Next, Jesus declared, “He has nothing in me,” which meant that because of his sinless life Satan had no claim on him. The coming showdown would not be about securing anything for himself. He said it would be a demonstration of his loving obedience to the will of the Father. Then, he followed this with a statement many commentators have taken to be Jesus simply concluding the Passover meal and inviting the disciples to join him on his journey to Gethsemane. This interpretation assumes that the content of the next three chapters unfolded along the way. But since those chapters end with John's record of a lengthy prayer he plainly states Jesus finished before he and his disciples left for the garden, I think the phrase that closes chapter 14 and is rendered by the New King James Version as, “Arise, let us go from here,” was something far more significant. The original Greek could properly be translated as, “Let's do this!” And I think that colloquialism better captures the heart of Jesus in that moment. With full awareness of what was coming, why, how soon, and what it would cost him, instead of shrinking back or attempting to postpone it, he leaned in and gave voice to his determination to see it through to completion and the victory over sin it would accomplish for us all. And although it's a deeply flawed comparison, what I feel when I read these words is somewhat like the sense of grateful pride many of my countrymen experience when they recall the day in June of 1944 that our troops joined with those from Britain and Canada to storm the beaches of France's Normandy coast and confront Hitler's plan for world domination. Strictly speaking, it wasn't our fight. It wasn't our nation that was under threat from Nazi invasion. Still, our brave soldiers answered the call to advance into that arena of terrible suffering for the sake of others. And I can almost hear them cry out from their landing craft as they came ashore, “Let's do this!” Some friends of mine are currently traveling in Europe. And a much-anticipated part of their itinerary is a visit to the D-Day invasion sites. They're going to what is often referred to as sacred ground to pause in silent reflection and honor the sacrifice of those who gave their lives there in defense of liberty. How much more should we regularly visit the holy terrain at the foot of the cross in worship and there glorify the one who boldly determined out of his love for the Father to face head on, with immeasurable sacrifice, the suffering that purchased our spiritual freedom and gained for us his presence as our destiny. Eternally offering our praise from sincerely grateful hearts is the only appropriate response for so great a salvation. Let's do this!