The John Project

My wife and I have been married nearly fifty years, but we almost didn’t make it past ten. At that point, Sue walked out on me and had every right to. I was so controlling and self-absorbed that although I’d been with her for a decade, I didn’t really know her. I’d never sufficiently invested my heart in the pursuit of discovering, celebrating, learning from, and being changed by the rich treasure of who she is. And the loss of those first years, is the deepest regret of my life. But the grace of God and her willingness to forgive gifted me with a second chance. And in the years since, as the Holy Spirit has been healing my brokenness, it’s become my heart’s delight to daily explore and marvel at the wonders of this luminous creature I’ve been blessed to share life with. I love the adventure of getting to know her.

And that experience informs how I approach John 14:7-11. At its heart, is a searing question. Jesus asked, “Have I been with you so long, and yet you have not known Me, Philip?”

Jesus had just highlighted another of the essential understandings the disciples would need in preparation for his ascension. He’d restated something they’d heard him refer to many times. He reminded them that through the testimony of his life, they’d been able to see the Heavenly Father.

So, it must have been quite jarring when Philip, sounding as though he’d completely ignored Jesus, responded by saying, “Show us the Father.” And it was this bizarre request that prompted the Lord to reply with the poignant and haunting query that although addressed to Philip, needs to be wrestled with by every Christ-follower. It challenges us all to consider whether we’ve been satisfied to simply be with Jesus or committed to getting to know him.

You can hear the heartache in the Lord’s voice as he lamented Philip’s failure to grasp the truth that defined the core of his being. He and the Father are one. If Philip hadn’t cared enough to get to know that about him, it called into question the genuineness of his faith and the depth of their relationship. So, he implored Philip to either believe what he’d taught him or at least what his works demonstrated about it.

But there’s a big difference in those avenues to faith. The first is based on communication – what Jesus said. The second is based observation – what Jesus did. The first involves a choice rooted in Jesus himself, the second on evaluated evidence about him. They both arrive at belief, but the first is personal the second empirical. The first is a more direct route to relationship. The second requires an intermediate step. And that’s why Jesus offered it to Philip only as an alternative. His priority is always to welcome us deeper into relationship. He wants us to know him.

Has your faith-journey become more pragmatic than intimate? Has it devolved into an arrangement that’s more like just being with Jesus than getting to know him? If so, that can change right now. Let me remind you of the Lord’s promise in Revelation 3:20 where he said, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.”

That offer is not just for the day you first responded to his loving grace. It’s also for every day that follows including this one.

In the final hours before his crucifixion, Jesus remained focused on making sure his disciples were ready. And in John 14:4 he summarized a couple of the critical understandings they’d already received by stating that they knew where he was going and how to follow him there.

But in verse 5, Thomas took issue with that.

Now, it’s clear Jesus wasn’t wrong in his assessment of what the disciples knew. Thomas was just giving voice to a fierce, internal struggle that was preventing them from acknowledging what they’d been taught. They didn’t want their Lord to leave them, so they resisted accepting what he’d told them about it. It’s pretty easy to hide things from ourselves when they have to do with something we don’t want to know.

But in verse 6, Jesus responded to Thomas’ rebuttal with two of the most direct and consequential sentences in the whole Bible. Using the definite article, he said he was the way, the truth, and the life. Then, referring to what he’d previously said about his return to the Father’s house, he declared himself the only means of accessing that glorious presence.

His choice of words was strategic. He was unambiguous. He couldn’t have been clearer. He said a relationship with God is only accessible through him, declared himself to be the exclusive revelation of truth, and claimed to be the sole source of life. And this creates a big problem for anyone who wants to assert that Jesus is only one of many ways to reach God, interpret truth, or pursue life. To believe that, you have to attribute what he said to arrogance, self-delusion, or egocentrism. And none of those things can reasonably be ascribed to Jesus.

We live in an age of deeply embedded relativism. Absolutes are roundly rejected. So, like Thomas and the other disciples attempting to hide unwanted knowledge from themselves, some people are predisposed to ignore Jesus’ emphatic self-definition. But these two sentences of his own words push back forcefully and unapologetically against the idea that there’s flexibility in what we choose to think about who he is. There’s not. His statements crowd us either toward belief or unbelief. There’s no wiggle room.

If you’re looking for a back door to heaven, seeking to reshape truth to fit your paradigm, or hoping to carve out a life that straddles the spiritual fence, don’t bother trying to somehow shoehorn Jesus into those pursuits. You’re on your own.

He’s either who he said he is or he’s not. If he’s not, we’ve got to be honest with ourselves about that and stop the foolish pursuit of looking to him for anything of value. But if he is who he said he is, then we need to be honest with ourselves about that and stop looking to anyone or anything else for what only he can supply.

A few years ago, my wife and I inherited the little house she grew up in near the beach in Southern California, and we decided to make it our home in retirement. So, we embarked on a big remodeling project. The house had seen better days and needed lots of repair work. But because we also wanted to have room for our kids and their families to visit, we added two bedrooms to make a total of four.

Scattered among those rooms are three sets of bunkbeds to accommodate all the grandkids. And each of the bunks has its own corkboard mounted to the wall next to it so the little ones can use pushpins to hang their drawings or whatever they like to create a personalized space. We want them to know they were planned for, their presence is desired, and that within our house, each of them is at home.

In John 14:2-3, Jesus continued helping his disciples process the announcement of his imminent departure by giving them a small glimpse into the eternal destiny it would secure for them. He said he’d be leaving to prepare a place for them within his Father’s house. And although I don’t think it’s possible within the limited framework of human understanding to fully grasp the preparations the Lord said he needed to accomplish in advance of the fulfillment of that promise, it’s clear they included the forgiveness of sins purchased with his crucifixion (John 1:29), the spiritual rebirth made available through his resurrection (John 3:3), and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit made possible by his ascension (John 16:7). But he told them that with everything prepared, he would one day return to escort them into that spiritual home they would share with him.

English versions of the Bible use the words mansions, rooms, or dwellings to translate the Lord’s description of this destination. But a more literal translation of the Greek would be something like a staying or abiding. Jesus was not saying his Father’s house contains a large number of individual suites. He wasn’t describing a place made up of many compartments. He was talking about an environment of belonging. He was using language that pointed toward the residing that happens in the Father’s residence. He was saying they would be at home in God’s house. He specifically avoided giving them details about the place – which they would have had no frame of reference to understand anyway – and focused their attention on what was most important: They would dwell with him.

These words of comfort and promise were not meant exclusively for the handful of followers with him on that night of his betrayal. Set within the context of the whole of Scripture, it’s clear Jesus was speaking beyond them and that moment to all who would follow him throughout history. And that includes you and me. The Savior wants us to know that his salvation project has remodeled heaven to make room for us. We were planned for, our presence is desired, and within his house, each of us will be at home.

I recently had the chance to babysit one of our grandsons. His dad was out of town, and his mom had an appointment to keep. So, I happily stepped in to watch him for the couple of hours she’d be away.

He and I have a great relationship, and I know he loves and trusts me. But after about an hour, he got teary-eyed and said he missed his dad. I know part of it was just that he was tired and hungry. But I also know that separation anxiety is a real thing. And with his mom’s comforting hug temporarily unavailable, my reassurance that his dad would be home in just a couple of days wasn’t enough. His little heart was troubled.

That word is in the first verse of John 14, and I’ll bet you know what it means without me telling you. It’s not something just kids go through. You’ve experienced it yourself. But for the record, it’s translated from a Greek word meaning to be fearful, distressed, agitated, restless, perplexed, stirred up, or in pain. And I want to suggest that when we feel that way, a similar kind of insecurity is at its root. We become vulnerable to it when our circumstances conspire to make us feel God is distant and his comfort unavailable.

As Jesus continued to prepare the disciples for his crucifixion, resurrection, and return to the Father, he addressed the separation anxiety he knew they could experience when he was no longer physically with them. And he told them exactly what to do whenever their hearts were troubled. He told them to believe.

It’s important to note the Lord used the verb form of the Greek word for faith here. He didn’t use the noun which would have referred to a thing that exists. The belief they possessed wasn’t the antidote for their troubled hearts. The act of believing was. There’s a big difference. Faith is like having a house key on your ring. But it won’t get you inside unless you put it in the lock and give it a turn. Jesus was teaching them that dealing with a troubled heart would require more than having faith. It would require exercising it. And the same is true for us.

Christ-followers have crossed the threshold from doubt into faith. We possess belief. But you’ve already discovered that that faith doesn’t mean we won’t experience spiritual separation anxiety. Trying times that blunt our sense of the Lord’s presence and tempt us to feel alone to face them call for the verb from of our faith.

My grandson knew I wasn’t lying to him about his dad’s return. But in his distress, the faith he has that I would never deceive him proved insufficient to deal with the ache in his heart. He needed to make a choice to actively trust me in that moment. And in the same way, our times of struggle always provide us with the opportunity to exercise the faith we have in the love of Jesus by choosing to believe in him.

Is your heart troubled? Are you fearful, distressed, agitated, restless, perplexed, stirred up, or in pain? Does it feel like you’re somehow on the outside looking in on the Lord’s comforting presence? Put the key in the lock and give it a turn. Make the choice to actively trust your Savior’s love right now.

John 13 is a dense narrative, but part of it reveals Peter struggling to understand. He had trouble comprehending why Jesus wanted to wash his feet. Then, he was confused about which of the Twelve would become the Lord’s betrayer. And in verses 36-38, the chapter concludes with an account of what may have been his most significant dilemma.

Jesus had just finished reminding his disciples he would soon be leaving them. And although he’d previously said, more than once, he’d be returning to the Father, Peter responded by asking where he was going. It seems like Peter was suffering from a case of selective listening, that condition that affects so many of us and causes us to hear only what we want to hear. It’s as though he just didn’t want to deal with the Lord’s departure, so he blocked it out until the imminence of it suddenly broke through, and his thoughts were trying to catch up.

Jesus answered him by restating what Peter had already twice heard him say to the religious leaders (John 7:34; 8:21). He’d told them he was going somewhere he couldn’t be followed. But this time, in his direct response to Peter, he added the word now. In stark contrast to what he’d said to the Scribes and Pharisees, the addition of that one word unveiled a spectacular promise. He told Peter that although he couldn’t follow him now, he would later.

And the significance of that statement is beyond profound, it’s life-altering. When the moment arrives that, by faith, we accept the truth that his cross, resurrection, and ascension open the way for us to step across the sin-divide and be with Jesus eternally, everything about our lives on this side of that threshold changes. We begin to enjoy a seamless daily relationship with him no longer throttled by the limits of time. Forever has already begun.

But based on his follow-up question, it’s doubtful Peter understood all that. He just wanted to know why he couldn’t come now. And he claimed he should be allowed to because he was willing to lay his life down for the Lord. So, when Jesus questioned that commitment and announced that before the night was over he would fail to live up to it, it must have devastated Peter.

But as hard as those words would have been to hear, I believe they were an expression of grace. Perhaps more than any other prior exchange he’d had with Jesus, this could have been the one that marked the trail for him back from that terrible night when he denied knowing the Lord three times.

In the aftermath, he would have finally begun to understand. The promise that one day he would follow Jesus into the precincts of heaven was made with the Lord’s foreknowledge of his pending failure. And it wasn’t qualified with an if-you-don’t clause. It was given as an even-after-you-do covenant. And as the fog of his failure was clearing, he would have also realized his eternal destiny could never be based on his willingness to lay his life down for Jesus. It could only be secured because Jesus was willing to lay his life down for him.

I can’t know if it’s the same for you, but my social media feeds are typically saturated with photos and videos of my friends’ children and grandchildren. From infants asleep in their cribs to toddlers taking their first steps to grade schoolers playing soccer to high schoolers dressed for prom, they just can’t seem to help themselves. They’ve fallen head-over-heels in love with these sweet gifts from God and imagine everyone else in the world will too if they can just get a glimpse of their little lovelies mugging for the camera.

And something of that kind of deep parental devotion is heard in the voice of Jesus when in John 13:33-35 he addressed his little children. It’s a two-word translation of a single Greek word used only this once in the four Gospels and only sparingly in the rest of the New Testament. It’s a term of rich endearment like those a new mom might use to caption the latest pic of her little darling posted on Instagram. And if you’ve ever felt that kind of pride, delight and affection for your own child or been loved by a parent in that way, this expression is meant to help you sample a small taste of how the Savior feels about you.

But the magnitude of the awareness that we’re loved like that by the Lord of Lord’s can be difficult to take in. So, we generally choose to deflect its impact by imagining that this salutation is either exclusive to the disciples or thinly spread in a diluted way across all believers. It’s a challenge to allow ourselves to be enveloped by the full measure of the truth that Jesus, with detailed knowledge of our faults and failings, loves us as his dear children. And yet, here he is. The one who spoke the universe into existence is calling to each of us from this passage with tender words of equal power intended to secure our souls in the embrace of his compassion. How dare we resist!

Unless we stop disqualifying ourselves and make the choice to fully rest in the warmth of his affection, we won’t be able to fulfill the command he issued in this passage. He reminded his followers that he would not be physically present with them much longer. Then, he assigned them to be his ambassadors, and he told them to do that by loving others in the same manner he’d loved them.

He said this was a new commandment. Among the laws God gave Moses for the Israelites in the Old Testament was: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18). But now, Jesus was saying that to be his representatives in this world, it would not be sufficient to love others as ourselves. It would require loving others more than ourselves. It would mean learning to love like he loves. And the only way that can even begin to be possible is if we first personally experience it.

Until we stop letting the haunting awareness of our unworthiness keep us from living life fully enveloped within his love, we won’t be able to offer it to others. But if we take the risk of a freefall into his waiting arms and permit him to break the cycle of shame that feeds our hesitation, then, not only will our souls have found their true home, but we’ll be able to invite others into it. We’ll find ourselves effortlessly offering to others what we ourselves have received, and by doing so, reflecting into the world he loves the heart of Jesus for his little children.

The other day, I came across a video of an avalanche on YouTube. It was recorded by a guy flying over it in a helicopter. And in his voiceover, he attempted to describe the awesome beauty displayed in its unstoppable power to rearrange the landscape in its path. As I watched and listened, the concept of a beautiful power that radically changes things reminded me of John 13:31-32.

Glory is the divine word for beauty, and the Greek word translated FIVE times in these two verses as either glorify or glorified focuses specifically on the revelation of that beauty. John’s Gospel is full of references to glory, but here, something new is signaled by the Lord’s use of the word now. It sets apart this moment as distinct from all previous and draws attention to the unprecedented display of the beauty of God’s power being exposed in contrast to the demonic strategy being played out.

After Judas stepped into the black of night to execute his plan of betrayal, instead of the heavy-hearted handwringing we might anticipate, this passage suddenly erupts with the Lord’s description of an avalanche of glory. And its power would change the spiritual topography forever. The canvas may have been stained with the dark hues of Judas’ treachery, but against that backdrop, the bold colors and expressive strokes revealing the forceful beauty of the love of God would be more vivid as a result.

Jesus detailed this spectacular cascade of divine splendor that overwhelmed Judas’ treason. He said the glorification of the Son glorified the Father, and the glory of the Father was reflected in the Son. The abandonment, false arrest, mock trial, torture, and crucifixion would not be avoided, but Satan’s sinister scheme would ultimately backfire and result in the unveiling of something…well…glorious.

And that’s God’s intent for our lives too. Whenever we find ourselves dealing with dark twists in the storylines of our lives, it’s the on-going revelation of God’s beauty on display in Jesus that overcomes that shadowy sequence and rewrites the expected narrative. 2 Corinthians 4:6 tells us that it’s “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus” that shines into our hearts and overcomes the darkness.

As we make our way through this not-yet-redeemed and sin-scarred world, it’s impossible to avoid those places where our paths intersect the corrosive plans of our spiritual adversary. But that terrain can be completely rearranged whenever we gaze with faith into the powerful beauty of God’s love reflected in Jesus. And no matter how troubling your current circumstances might be, right now is a perfect time to do exactly that. As soon as I finish this sentence, I invite you to pause in the Lord’s presence allowing your spiritual eyes to focus on the exquisite might of his gospel and experience your life’s landscape being reshaped by an avalanche of glory.

Following Jesus’ revelation that one of the disciples would betray him, John 13:22-30 provides a vivid narrative describing their quest to find out which of them he meant. John, referring to himself as a “disciple whom Jesus loved,” was reclining nearest the Master. So, Peter signaled him to ask the Lord who it was. When John leaned back and whispered the question, Jesus answered, “It is he to whom I shall give a piece of bread when I have dipped it.”

When the Lord then gave that sop to Judas, it coincided with the moment his incremental drift from follower to traitor consummated, and Satan gained deep access to his soul. Then Jesus told him, “What you do, do quickly.” So, Judas walked out under the cover of darkness to do something so unthinkable, the rest of the disciples still weren’t sure what had happened.

Did Jesus make a mistake when he chose Judas as one of the Twelve? John 6:64 and 70 make clear he knew from the beginning what Judas would eventually do. But Mark 3:13 tells us he chose those he WANTED. So, it’s reasonable for us to ask why he WANTED someone he knew would ultimately betray him. Was Judas disposable, a necessary evil? Did he choose him just so he could play the role of villain in the Gospel narrative and initiate the process that would lead to the crucifixion?

The intersection of God’s foreknowledge, his sovereignty, and our free will is a very mysterious place, and we always need to tread lightly there. But I don’t think Jesus selected Judas for the purpose of enabling him to become the most notorious backstabber of all time. I think he chose him so he would at least have an opportunity not to.

Consider this: Just as Jesus predicted Judas’ betrayal, he also foretold Peter’s denial. But it’s clear he didn’t choose Peter so he could fail. In the aftermath of his sin, John 21:15-19 describes the Lord meeting him on the shores of Galilee following the resurrection specifically to facilitate his repentance and restore his apostolic appointment. And that makes me wonder if a similar reconciliation might have been available for Judas.

How might Judas’ story have unfolded differently if he hadn’t ended his own life? Of course, we can’t know the answer to that. But I think it’s important to at least ponder this question because a lot of us have failed the Savior in ways that like Judas, betrayed his trust and like Peter, denied our relationship with him. We need to know if there’s a way back from that because the devil is always quick to use our uncertainty to undermine the assurance of our salvation.

1 John 1:8-9 states the obvious when it says, “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” But then, it gloriously declares that, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from ALL unrighteousness.” And since these amazing words were written to believers – people who had already placed their faith in Christ – they stand as a soul-securing reminder that no matter how we may fail our Savior, even after receiving his salvation, our sin can NEVER overpower his forgiveness. And even though there are always consequences produced by our disobedience that will have to be dealt with, whenever we confess or acknowledge our sin in repentance, we rediscover that we remain under the canopy of God’s grace.

Surely the awareness that informed these verses from John’s first epistle also shaped the phrase he used to described himself in his Gospel and applied to the rest of the Twelve as well…including Judas. And since we are also recipients of this stunning grace, it’s true for us too. Each of us is a disciple whom Jesus loves.

In the previous section of John 13, while responding to Peter as he washed feet, Jesus said, “You are clean, but not all of you.” And the text clarifies the Lord said this because, “He knew who would betray him.” At the time, he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he continued to focus the disciples’ attention on the example of holy servitude he was modeling. But after concluding that lesson, verses 18-21 record Jesus returning to that seemingly stray comment as he warned his disciples that they were about to witness the fulfillment of a messianic prophecy. He quoted from Psalm 41:9 and said, "He who eats bread with me has lifted up his heel against me." And he later clarified what he meant when he said, “One of you will betray me.”

Can you imagine how disturbing that must have been for them to hear? The revelation that one of their brothers-in-ministry would do this must have been profoundly unsettling especially since Jesus didn’t immediately identify the culprit. They must have looked around at each other in shock wondering which of them would do such a thing, why, and what would it mean for the rest of them.

That’s why the Lord was careful to preface his announcement by affirming their chosen-ness. He knew that once this bombshell dropped, they would need assurance that this one person’s backstabbing wouldn’t invalidate their calling. And he went on to explain that he was telling them in advance so that when it happened their faith wouldn’t be shaken. Then, emphasizing the importance of what he was about to say with the phrase, “Most assuredly, I say to you,” he reinforced his steadfast commitment to stand behind them as his sent ones in the same way the Heavenly Father stands behind him.

What a comfort that must have been for them to hear in that moment!

But what about Jesus? How did this affect him?

John, who witnessed this firsthand, stated that Jesus was “troubled in spirit” as he said these things. He wanted us to know that the Lord was experiencing pain erupting from a very deep place. And I suppose his inclusion of this description may simply have been the result of insight he’d received from the Holy Spirit as he penned his Gospel. But I think it’s more likely that it was observable, that Jesus was visibly shaken as he gave voice to his awareness of the impending treachery.

It’s important we never forget that Jesus was as fully human as he was divine. His foreknowledge as the Son of God about what was going to happen didn’t spare him from the emotional trauma he experienced as the Son of Man. The Greek word translated in verse 21 as betray specifically means to deliver a person to prison or judgment. But I think the fact that in this case it’s applied to the actions of a friend broadens its usage to include all the ways relational trust can be abused. Betrayal always hurts, and Jesus was deeply wounded by it.

We’ve all been there. So, it’s comforting to know our Savior understands what it’s like to have a friend trash a relationship you’ve invested your heart into. And anytime our relationships are violated, the comfort of his understanding is the shelter we run to. But the example of what he did in the face of his friend’s unfaithfulness is also important for us to see. He never allowed his pain to morph into anger and unforgiveness. Instead of obsessing about the ONE who was a backstabber, he kept his focus on serving the ELEVEN who weren’t.

Overcoming relational betrayal requires choosing not to live in its pain and allow it to infect your soul with the anger, distrust, and bitterness that will spiritually sideline you. It means pressing into the healing comfort of the one who truly understands and allowing him to redirect your focus from the violation of the one to the needs of the many.

It’s likely, based on his startled response, that Peter was the first of the Twelve the Lord approached with his wash basin. And since their conversation is the only one recorded, it’s easy to imagine the rest of the disciples as so overwhelmed with reverence for their master’s stunning humility, they were simply speechless. I picture the Lord quietly bending before each of them one by one within an awestruck silence broken only by the sound of splashing water as they experienced him doing the unimaginable.

There’s so much we don’t know. We don’t know how long he spent with each of them individually, what was communicated in his eye contact, or what tenderness was expressed in his touch. But we do know he expected them to serve others in the same way he’d served them. We know this because he said so. John 13:12-17 tells us after he’d finished, put his outer garments back on, and returned to his place at the table, he explained he wasn’t just trying to impress them with his humility. He was setting an example he wanted them to follow.

And I can’t imagine any scenario where that expectation of his first followers doesn’t apply to those of us who’ve come along later. We need to be cautious about how we proceed with our lives after this scriptural encounter with Jesus on his knees. The shadows of our self-centeredness cannot remain in the brilliant light of his others-centeredness. We can never again excuse ourselves from fulfilling the Lord’s command to do as he did.

In the final verse of this section, Jesus concluded this profound lesson on the servant-heartedness of his kingdom. And he said something unexpected. He said if we know these things and do them, WE are blessed. And that word blessed literally means happy. In other words, he was saying our personal happiness is linked to putting others first. But I don’t believe he was trying to incentivize servanthood. He was neither saying that happiness would be withheld from us as punishment unless we change our behavior nor that we will be rewarded with it if we do. He was just making clear that the path to life as he intended is always in his footsteps. Since we were created in his image, whenever we follow his example in anything, we find ourselves experiencing the life we were made for. And there’s no greater joy than that.

Among the most pleasurable experiences of my life have been the times I’ve been able to volunteer with a ministry called, Laundry Love (laundrylove.org). It’s a group of people around the country seeking to brighten the lives of low-income families and individuals by helping pay for them to get their clothes washed. All it required of me was to withdraw some quarters from my bank, drive to a laundromat in a part of town I don’t usually frequent, meander among the washers and dryers, greet the folks I encountered with a friendly smile, and offer to put some coins in the machines for them. But the joy of making even a small difference in the constrained budgets of these dear people in the name of Jesus is amazing. In fact, every time I’ve worked with Laundry Love I’ve felt guilty for how good it made ME feel. And if you’ve ever been blessed with the opportunity to serve others, you know what I mean.

We were made for this. And there are literally countless opportunities in this world for us to follow our Lord’s example of humble servitude. So, if you desire to experience greater happiness in your life, grab your wash basin. And if there aren’t any feet that need washing, maybe wash someone’s clothes instead.