The final six verses of the Gospel of John form a kind of postscript that accomplishes three things. It establishes the basis for John’s credentials as its author, stakes his personal reputation to the veracity of what he’d written, and explains why the project involved a significant amount of purposeful curation.

First, John corrected a rumor about himself, circulating among some of the early believers, that Jesus had said he wouldn’t die. This was rooted in an exchange between the Lord and Peter that had been overheard, misinterpreted, and repeated. But it appears to me that John’s purpose in bringing it up was not primarily about confirming his mortality. That would have become evident soon enough. I believe it was important to him, at the close of his gospel, to debunk any notion that he held a form of elevated status among the disciples that qualified him to write it or determined its value.

I’m convinced that’s why he began setting the record straight regarding this fiction by first, as he had on three previous occasions, humbly identifying himself as a 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥. He wanted to ensure that his readers would understand he was no one special, just a recipient of the same unmerited and all-consuming love of Christ available to them as well. But he also wanted to establish that he was a credible eyewitness to what he’d written. And that’s why, referring to his physical nearness to Jesus during the Last Supper, he added that he was the one who had 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵. The Savior’s love and a front row seat to his ministry were his true credentials.

And having settled that, he added his verbal signature to the document making certain no one would mistake his account for anything less than a carefully prepared and reliable treatise.

Then, John closed his book with a statement of the obvious, that creating a comprehensive account of all Jesus had said and done was an impossibility. He graphically described this by saying the world isn’t big enough to contain all the books the task would require. All recorded history is curated. So, John was simply acknowledging that he’d done what every historian must do, make choices about which facts to include in their presentations based on the unique purposes that motivate their work.

John had already provided the criterion for his editorial choices in chapter 20 verse 31 when he’d said, “These are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.” And it's astonishing to consider the reality that in the millennia since John penned this gospel, his Spirit-birthed purpose for writing it has been and continues to be accomplished in the lives of billions of people…including me.

It was the glorious words of Jesus quoted in verse 16 of his third chapter that the Holy Spirit used to capture my heart as a young child and launch my faith journey. Of the four New Testament gospels, only John’s contain them: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

I’m thoroughly incapable of expressing my praise to Jesus for his sacrifice described in that passage and for the salvation it purchased for me. But as I now conclude my journey through this gospel and the devotional commentary that has resulted, it’s also impossible for me to adequately articulate my gratitude for John’s willingness to partner with the Holy Spirit in providing us such a stunning account of God’s amazing grace.

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 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺. And when enticed by either the devil or his own thoughts to fixate with worry or fear on how or when that path would reach its conclusion, he would have remembered the time recorded in Mark 8:34 when Jesus said, “Whoever desires to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.”

I think it’s clear that what Jesus wanted Peter to understand was that in the space between the beginning and end of his life he was being invited to pursue a way of being that should characterize every Jesus-follower, an invitation to live our lives in a way that reflects our Savior’s. Fully aware of the cross before him, he refused to be distracted by that. He inhabited every waking moment clothed in his calling with a clear-eyed perspective on eternity and the importance of honoring God in the here-and-now in a way that flows seamlessly into the forever-after.

And I want to live like that. So, I’m asking Jesus to help me, regardless of how much time I have left, to ignore the clock, keep my head in the game, play my heart out, and leave it all on the field.

Recently, some of our grandchildren have become involved in theater arts. So, I’m learning a whole new vocabulary that includes the term, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘤. In the context of storytelling, that refers to the change or growth a character experiences over the course of a story. And John 21:15-17 reveals the climax of Peter’s. But I don’t mean to suggest that any part of this gospel is fictionalized. I just mean that John’s warts-and-all account of Peter’s spiritual journey provides us with a richly genuine portrait of a VERY real person whose glaring humanity was on full display as he grew in his relationship with Jesus.

And because that helps us locate our flawed selves in the story of redemption, John front-loaded our expectations regarding the significance of Peter’s role in this gospel by describing the moment early on when Jesus changed his name (1:42). In Scripture, when someone experienced a divinely initiated name change, it marked a revision in that person’s identity from one version of themselves to another. But it wasn’t a recognition of what was already true. It announced a transformation that would be the result of a process. And in Peter’s case, an important part of that process remained unfinished.

On the night of Christ’s betrayal, Peter had emphatically denied three times ever having had anything to do with him. And that glaring failure hung unresolved in the post-crucifixion atmosphere like the proverbial elephant in the room no one wants to acknowledge. It hadn’t been addressed during either of the first two times Peter had been in the presence of his resurrected Master. But when Jesus appeared to the disciples in Galilee, it’s clear the Lord intended to make certain that dark part of the apostle’s story would not be its end. So, Jesus asked him, “Do you love me more than these?”

Although that question could be taken more than one way, it seems obvious the Lord was referring to the other disciples and asking if Peter loved him more than THEY loved him. And that would have exposed the painful subject of Peter’s denials by reminding him of his previous boast (Matthew 26:31-33) that even if the other disciples abandoned Jesus, he never would.

But the Lord’s intent was not to shame his disciple. It was to restore him. So, this passage captures an extended Q & A between them that allowed Peter to repent of his three denials by offering three expressions of devotion while providing Jesus three opportunities to express his commitment to Peter by affirming his pastoral calling.

Through the centuries since, commentators have offered additional insights concerning this exchange that are certainly worthy of consideration. These have mainly centered around the four sets of Greek synonyms employed by John to capture this conversation, especially 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘦 and 𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘰, the pair translated into English as 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. But there’s enough uncertainty around these interpretations that I think it’s best to stay focused on what’s undeniable.

It’s crystal clear that Jesus refused to leave Peter’s discipleship unfinished. And that’s true for you and me as well. Philippians 1:6 tells us, “He who has begun a good work in you will COMPLETE it.” So, even when that process is uncomfortable, we can be confident that, according to Romans 2:4, it’s the goodness of God that leads us across the threshold of repentance so we can grow into the shoes he intends us to fill. Each of us can count on the faithfulness of Jesus to escort us, by whatever means are required, to the climax of our spiritual 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘤.

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 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯 (Matthew 4:18-19) exploded into John’s awareness, filled him with recognition, and caused him to cry out, “It is the Lord!” And when Peter heard those words, he jumped into the shallow water and raced for shore while the others followed in the boat dragging the catch the final hundred yards to where Jesus was waiting.

And get this, the Risen Lord of Glory had made them breakfast.

Jesus had a campfire going with fish already cooking over the open flame to be enjoyed with some bread he’d also prepared. The question of whether he’d made that bread and/or caught the fish himself is as wonderful to contemplate as it is unknowable. But what we do know is that the stunned disciples were invited to contribute to the menu from their catch, and then, their Master served them.

Imagining what it must have been like to be on the beach that morning and experiencing the redemptive grace on display, gives me goosebumps. But I still can’t help wondering about verse 11. Why did the Holy Spirit prompt John to make sure we’d know the following details? First, that Peter worked with his friends to drag the net to shore. It was a group effort. Second, that every fish was precisely counted. There were 153 exactly. The number wasn’t rounded off. Third, that all the fish were large (literally, 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘢-fish in the Greek) or 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 in fisherman slang. And last, that the net didn’t break.

As I mentioned at the top, these descriptions don’t seem to contribute much information valuable to the story. And that leaves commentators only able to speculate regarding any deeper meanings they may point to. But what’s crystal clear is that this verse is chock full of the kind of details that would be of great interest to other fishermen. And maybe that’s the point.

You and I weren’t there for that glorious breakfast by the sea. But all of us who’ve, by faith, followed in the footsteps of Peter, John, and the rest of the Lord’s original crew have been given the same divine vocation. We've also been called to become 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯 (Mark 1:17). And as we live out that assignment, we get to partner with other believers to bring in the catch, understand that each soul counts, remember that each of them is a treasure to Jesus, and rejoice in the knowledge that the net of salvation can’t break. Because it’s the result of limitless grace, there’s always room for more.

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 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘑𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘯 in my mind and found myself humming a melody. So, I got up, grabbed my guitar, and as quickly as I could write, I composed a song with that phrase as its title. I was super excited because writing music had been a secret desire of mine. But I didn’t connect the dots between the song and my earlier prayer until about two months later when I was on a camping trip.

I was by myself in a tent singing my little song when a pastor just happened to walk by, heard me, stuck his head in, and asked me about the music he was hearing. When I told him it was something I’d written, he complimented me on the symbolism in the lyrics. When I asked what he meant, he told me that in the Bible, the Jordan river was the threshold the Israelites crossed to enter the Promised Land and symbolizes the passage from death into eternal life. So, Christians believe the cross and resurrection of Jesus have made possible a spiritual 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘑𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘯.

Until that moment, I’d had no idea about any of that, and I sat there amazed. Honestly, I thought I’d just assembled a random collection of words that sounded good together. But I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that the Maker of the Universe had answered the prayer of a sincerely seeking, teen-aged boy. And my life has never been the same since.

In hindsight, the idea that I would’ve even considered withholding belief in God unless he proved himself to me, seems stunningly arrogant. But God knew my heart. I wasn’t a skeptic committed to incredulity. I wanted to believe. I just wanted my belief to be tied to personal experience. And it’s that same desire I see on display in John 20:24-31.

This passage focuses on the disciple known to his contemporaries as 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘯 but who, in the centuries since, has come to be called 𝘋𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘴 because of his refusal to believe the initial reports of the resurrection. He’d been absent when Jesus appeared to the rest of the disciples on Easter evening. And in response to their excited descriptions of what happened, he said, “Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails and put MY finger into the print of the nails and put MY hand into his side, I will not believe.”

But I don’t think this was the statement of a skeptic. Based on how Jesus responded, I think it’s clear the Lord heard it as the prayer of a genuine seeker desiring a first-person faith. And he showcased its value along with a willingness to answer that kind of prayer by quoting it nearly word for word when he reappeared among the disciples eight days later just so Thomas could inspect his wounds and cross the threshold into belief.

The richness of the grace on display in that moment moved Thomas to cry out with reverent worship, “My Lord and my God!” But some have understood the Lord’s reply to that expression of praise as a rebuke for Thomas’ insistence on seeing before believing and a promise of reward for those who are willing to exercise blind faith instead. But blind faith, which can be defined as 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵, is inherently dangerous. And a careful survey of Scripture makes clear that God never commands or promotes such unsupported belief.

Biblical faith is always the result of a choice based on what someone has experienced of God. And the blessing Jesus referred to here was an assurance that there was a pathway to that kind of belief even for those who would never see him in the flesh. This pathway is described in Romans 10:17 where we’re told, “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.” And that’s why John closed this passage by declaring the purpose behind what he’d included in his gospel. 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."

The final eight verses of John 20 demonstrate that Jesus desires to make himself known to those who sincerely seek him, and that for those who do, God has provided in his Word everything needed for an evidence-based faith.

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 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴 (Luke 6:13), which means 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴. So, when he commissioned them that night with these words, they must have recognized that this was what he’d been preparing them for all along.

Then, when he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit,” they would have understood that this wasn’t a change of subject. Because Jesus had taught them to anticipate the Spirit’s role in empowering their lives and ministries (John 14:16-18; 16:7-15), they would have realized he meant that their 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 was directly dependent on their 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥. And they wouldn’t have missed the significance of him breathing on them. The Greek word translated as 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵 here means 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. Just as in the beginning when Adam came to life by the breath of God (Genesis 2:7), they would have grasped that Jesus was inviting them to become spiritually alive by inhaling the Holy Breath.

Although this was certainly pointing forward to the Day of Pentecost when the disciples would be empowered for ministry by receiving the 𝘣𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 the Spirit (Luke 24:49; Acts 1:4, 8; 2:1-4), Jesus was also addressing their immediate need for the 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 the Spirit. Since saving faith rests on the belief that God has raised Jesus from the dead (Roman 10:9), this post-resurrection encounter with him provided the first opportunity for the disciples to be born again (John 3:7) according to Scripture. And it’s the indwelling of the Spirit that defines that rebirth (John 3:5-6; Romans 8:9).

The Lord’s next words can sound as though he was giving the disciples power to forgive or retain sins. But there’s nothing in the rest of the New Testament or church history that indicates they understood what he said in that way. They would have interpreted him in the context of what he’d just been saying. Jesus was clarifying the serious responsibility inherent in their calling as sent ones. Nothing less than the forgiveness of the sins of those to whom they would minister was at stake. The choice to receive or reject that forgiveness and its eternal consequences would rest on the proclamation of the gospel that was being entrusted to them.

That same gospel has been entrusted to all of us who follow in the footsteps of their faith. And it’s clear that what Jesus said to his disciples that night applies to us too. He’s called us to be his sent ones empowered by his Spirit to proclaim his sobering offer of grace to a world in desperate need.

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.