Living Toward a Destination
Commentary
Every day, multiple times a day, we are on our way somewhere. It most cases it is so routine that we don’t even think about it in those terms. We’re just going through the motions. But when you stop to reflect on it, you realize that, multiple times each day, you are on your way somewhere. Virtually every time you move you’re on your way somewhere, if only to the refrigerator, the desk, or the bathroom.
But whether we are highly conscious of a sense of journey or whether we are just mindlessly going through our routine, the fact is that we spend a lot of our lives being on the way somewhere. We are moving toward some destination. And the destination makes a difference.
The very fact that some of our movement is routine and almost unconscious is, I suppose, its own reflection on our destinations at those times — or at least our attitudes about them. If the drive to school or the office or the hardware store is bland, perhaps that’s because we feel unexcited about those destinations. Ah, but we know that other places elicit much stronger reactions within us. On the one hand, there are the places which, for one reason or another, we dread. Perhaps there is some pain or conflict expected there, and so the journey to that place is marked by apprehension or anxiety. Conversely, there are the places about which we feel great excitement. We expect that some goodness or pleasure or fun awaits us, and so the journey to those places is filled with happy anticipation.
Of course, some journeys are of such a kind that they feature multiple destinations. We have the ultimate goal to which we are heading, but we also have some intermediate stops along the way. If our family is making a trip that will require a several-days drive, for example, then there is the vacation spot we’re excited about, but there are also hotels and restaurants and gas stations where we’ll stop between here and there.
And that is the nature of life in this world for a Christian. We have a lot of stops we are making along the way. Yet over and above it all, there is a larger itinerary: an ultimate destination toward which we are living.
Our assigned reading for this week prompts us to remember our ultimate destination. And, as in all the other, lesser journeys of daily life, the destination ought to impact the trip that we make to get there. For the destination makes a difference.
Acts 7:55-60
I’m sure that some artist must have painted this moment. For many generations, biblical scenes were the favorite subject matter of artists in Europe, and this particular scene is pregnant with possibilities. I think especially of Rembrandt for this task. He was famous for his use of light and darkness. And this scene from Acts 7 would have conspicuously lit and shadowed faces.
Consider the characters — and the looks — in this dramatic moment.
In the center would be the luminous face of Stephen. He is persecuted, attacked, injured, and dying — yet his face shines. What explanation lies behind this paradox?
Stephen is persecuted and beaten yet is not looking at his bloodied body nor at his vicious tormentors. Rather, Stephen is looking up toward heaven. And then we discover that, while his face is bright, it is not itself a source of light. Rather, his face is lit by the glory of the Lord, whom he sees waiting for him in heaven. The light of the Lord shines on Stephen like peace in a storm, and he is able to pray this superhuman prayer that the Lord would not hold his executioners’ sin against them.
Where Stephen focuses is a lesson to us all. Most of us will not be called upon to die for our faith in Christ, let alone in this dramatic way. But we will be mistreated by people along the way. We will all have some wounds, whether internal or external. And it will be up to us where we will place our focus in the midst of it all.
Meanwhile, in contrast to the shaft of light that is shared between Stephen and Christ, there are the characters in the shadows. Specifically, here in the foreground, we see the tormentors. They are the ones who have brought accusations against Stephen. They are the ones who have been throwing stones. Yet they are the ones who, in reality, look like they are being tormented. Their faces are twisted in rage. Their brows are furrowed, their eyes glare wildly, and their hands are over their ears. They can’t take anymore of Stephen’s words — or perhaps of Stephen’s spirit. Yet while the ones with the stones in hand are the ones in pain, the one who is being battered is serene.
Again, most of us will not be personally privy to a vigilante execution such as the one reported in Acts 7. We will see, however, people who are tortured by their own anger. Human beings can become prisoners of their fury, and they are made miserable as a result.
Then there is one more element to the scene, one more character to detect. He is both in the shadows and off to the side. There is so much else going on in the picture that we might easily miss him. But there, adjacent to the action, is a man named Saul. At this moment, he is incidental to the story. For the second half of the book of Acts, however, he will become the story.
Luke is a master storyteller, and he is skillful in introducing Saul to us here in this moment. For before the curtain closes on the larger story that Luke is telling, Saul will move out of the shadows and into the light. He will transition from being among the stone-throwers to being stoned. And he will be transformed from the anger of those who oppose God to the serenity of those who look to him.
I don’t know whether an artist from some bygone era has done justice to this scene in paint. Our opportunity this Sunday is to try to do justice to it in words. It is a dramatic and compelling moment, and it deserves to be preached.
1 Peter 2:2-10
We have technical terms for what we believe and affirm about different aspects of our faith. The term theology, of course, is used very broadly, but refers particularly to what we believe about God. Christology, likewise, expresses what we affirm about Christ. But when it comes to the theme that is so central to our selected passage from the epistles, ecclesiology is the order of the day, for so much of this excerpt from 1 Peter speaks to an understanding of the church.
By “church,” of course, I do not mean an institution, much less a building. Rather, embracing the sense of the term in the New Testament, I am thinking of the body of believers — the fellowship of those who share faith in Christ, the family of God. For it is people — not an institution or a building — that Peter has in view. Although, interestingly, he finds that a building is a helpful metaphor for that group of people.
The first observation to be made about these people is that they are meant to grow spiritually. Peter’s reference to “newborn babies” echoes a theme we see throughout the New Testament: namely, the theme of progress and maturation. It is not automatic, however; hence the hortatory tone.
Next comes the images of stones. Lest any reader fall prey to the temptation to think individually about their faith and privately about their relationship with God, Peter says we are being built together. A stone off by itself doesn’t amount to much. But God is bringing all of our individual stones together to combine us into a holy whole that worships, serves, and honors him.
And, speaking of stones, Peter reminds us of the cornerstone upon which we are being built — Christ himself. If something within us recoils at the thought of being compared to stones, now we see that it is a privilege, for the metaphor begins with none other than Christ. In quick succession, Peter quotes three Old Testament passages about stones — first from Isaiah, then from Psalms, and then again from Isaiah — which he understands to be fulfilled in Christ. And we see in each of these passages that the critical issue is in how people respond to that stone. And so it is that Jesus serves as the great watershed, the dividing line: everything comes down to how individuals, communities, and nations respond to him.
Finally, Peter’s rich, ecclesiological passage culminates with a potent series of images for what God has in mind for his church. “You are,” he says, “a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession.” Each one of these brief statements carries a treasure of implications. The people of God are different — special and purposeful. And lest we push back at the notion of being “special,” as though it conveys exclusivity, we see that God’s purpose for us in this world is one of witness: “so that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who has called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”
And, finally, we are reminded that our specialness is not innate. Rather, it is a function of God’s gracious, saving work. Recalling the Old Testament prophet Hosea, Peter writes of us, “once were not a people, but now you are the people of God; you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”
John 14:1-14
John offers us by far the fullest glimpse into Jesus’ Last Supper with his disciples. While the other three gospels all report the event in less than one chapter, this scene in John occupies most of five chapters. It is actually the longest single account in the whole of the fourth gospel as John shares with us so much of the teaching and dialogue from that night.
Our selected verses, while just a fraction of the larger passage, is a treasury of beautiful and important words from Jesus. Unless one is taking an expository approach and focusing exclusively on the gospel lection, the preacher will have to choose which particular jewel from this treasure chest he or she will highlight for the congregation. Among our choices, we find the following…
First, there is the reassuring word from Jesus not to be troubled. In the midst of an extremely troubling, confusing, and vulnerable moment, still he tells them not to be troubled. No doubt he says the same thing to you and me in the midst of our troubles. And the basis for our unnatural peace? Faith in Christ!
Next there is the beautiful promise of the Father’s house and the Lord’s preparations on our behalf. Who can measure the sweetness and beauty of this? Forbid it that we should ever overlook or take for granted the image of Jesus himself preparing a place for us. How generous is the act, and how marvelous the place!
Next, in quick succession, we are met with at least three remarkable Christological statements. What are we to believe about Jesus Christ? Let us begin with what he says about himself in John 14. He says that he is “the way, the truth, and the life.” He says that he is the only way to the Father. He tells the disciples that if they have seen him, they have seen the Father. And he says that he and the Father are one.
These are astonishing statements. C.S. Lewis famously argued that it is not intellectually honest to simply label Jesus a good, moral teacher, and it is precisely these kinds of radical statements that make Lewis’ point. For no man can be a good, moral teacher and say these kinds of things unless he is who he says he is. For if he is not who he says he is, then he is a lunatic for saying these things.
Finally, the section concludes with another collection of remarkable statements, this time about “works.” He urges his hearers to believe in him because of his works. By itself, that seems fine and straightforward. But then he takes it a step further, promising that those who do believe in him will, in turn, do those same works — and even greater! And that is followed, naturally, by a promise that he will do what is asked by those who have faith in him.
These, then, are some of the prominent jewels contained in this treasure chest of verses. But they are not detached jewels — rather, we might think of them being strung together in a strand. For what ties together all of these teachings is the Father. And we will think more about that theme below.
Application
In the 1953 biblical movie The Robe, we follow several of the main characters as they come to faith in Christ. One of them, Marcellus, is sentenced to be executed for refusing to renounce Jesus. And Diana, the woman who loves him, chooses to surrender herself to the same fate by confessing her faith in Christ during Marcellus’ trial. As they walk off to face their execution, their faces are serene, while the emperor who sentenced them is agitated and raving. He screams as they leave his court that they are going to a better kingdom.
To those unacquainted with scripture, the scene might seem artificial and melodramatic. For those who know the story of Stephen, however, the climactic scene looks very familiar. For, as we noted above, Stephen is at peace in the midst of torture and the face of death, while his tormentors are agitated and bloodthirsty. And the reason for the unreasonable peace displayed by both the real and fictitious martyrs is the same: their sense of destination. Stephen saw the glory of God and the Lord Jesus in heaven awaiting him. Marcellus and Diana were going to a better kingdom. And the destination makes all the difference.
The writer of Hebrews notes the same principle at work in the earthly life experience of Jesus himself. “For the joy that was set before him,” we read, Jesus “endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2 ESV). And the Apostle Paul, in a similar vein, wrote: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18 ESV).
What comes at the end of the journey, you see, impacts the experience of that journey. And so even if the journey itself is marked by pain or injustice, the destination makes all the difference.
And what is the destination? Jesus assures his followers in John’s Gospel that it is nothing less than the Father’s house! Jesus himself goes to prepare a place for us; he promises to come to get us; and he assures that where he is we will be also. That is our unfathomable destination. And if an exciting errand or much-anticipated vacation is enough of a destination to brighten our journey on any given day, how much more the ultimate destination of the journey of our lives!
Alternative Application(s)
John 14:1-14 — Always the Father
The Gospel of John gives us perhaps the most insight into the Trinity of all the gospels. Our selected gospel lection for this week is a good case in point. While it does not explicitly mention the Holy Spirit, it offers an excellent example of the dynamic within the Trinity as we hear the Son speak of the Father. For as we examine the passage, we discover that Jesus is pointing constantly to the Father.
We noted above several gems within the John 14 passage: Jesus’ word of reassurance to his troubled disciples; his promise of preparation; his revelatory statements about himself; and his teaching about works and belief. When we look carefully, we see that every one of those “gems” is connected to the Father.
The source of the disciples’ comfort in the face of troubled hearts is belief in Jesus — yet we observe that it is not Jesus alone. He begins with their faith in the Father, and then encourages them to have faith in him, too. This makes complete sense a moment later when Jesus says that he and the Father are one.
Then comes the promise of preparation. Jesus is the one who goes to prepare a place, to be sure, yet see where he goes and see the nature of the place: it’s the Father’s house. Jesus belongs there, of course, but the astonishingly good news is that he prepares for us to be there, too.
Next come the great Christological statements. Yet see, again, that while they are remarkable affirmations about Jesus, they are always about him in relation to the Father. He is the way to the Father. No one comes to the Father apart from him. To see him is to see the Father. He and the Father are one.
Then Jesus goes on to affirm that he speaks the Father’s words and he does the Father’s works. And those works, in turn, become the works of those who believe in Jesus, and specifically because he is going to the Father. And, as a final exclamation point on the whole passage, the believers are urged to ask anything of Jesus “so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.”
There is an ice cream restaurant in our community that offers dishes in three sizes: “Like it,” “Love it,” and “Gotta have it.” It’s a charming reformation of “small,” “medium,” and “large.” But it is also a troubling insight into how we view “love.” Love, you see, is revealed to be all about meeting one’s own desires and appetites.
That, of course, is not the nature of biblical love, at all. Biblical love is not about self, but about the other. Biblical love is not about self-gratification but self-sacrifice. And in this brief excerpt from the Gospel of John, we catch a small glimpse of the love within the Trinity. In all things, you see, Jesus is not about himself: he is about the Father. His identity, his purpose, his mission, and his joy are all found in the Father.
And we, in turn, may take our cue from Jesus at two levels. First, to emulate this selfless love that is always focused on the other. And, second, to make our lives, too, completely oriented toward the Lord. Let our identity, our purpose, our mission, and our joy also be found entirely in him.
But whether we are highly conscious of a sense of journey or whether we are just mindlessly going through our routine, the fact is that we spend a lot of our lives being on the way somewhere. We are moving toward some destination. And the destination makes a difference.
The very fact that some of our movement is routine and almost unconscious is, I suppose, its own reflection on our destinations at those times — or at least our attitudes about them. If the drive to school or the office or the hardware store is bland, perhaps that’s because we feel unexcited about those destinations. Ah, but we know that other places elicit much stronger reactions within us. On the one hand, there are the places which, for one reason or another, we dread. Perhaps there is some pain or conflict expected there, and so the journey to that place is marked by apprehension or anxiety. Conversely, there are the places about which we feel great excitement. We expect that some goodness or pleasure or fun awaits us, and so the journey to those places is filled with happy anticipation.
Of course, some journeys are of such a kind that they feature multiple destinations. We have the ultimate goal to which we are heading, but we also have some intermediate stops along the way. If our family is making a trip that will require a several-days drive, for example, then there is the vacation spot we’re excited about, but there are also hotels and restaurants and gas stations where we’ll stop between here and there.
And that is the nature of life in this world for a Christian. We have a lot of stops we are making along the way. Yet over and above it all, there is a larger itinerary: an ultimate destination toward which we are living.
Our assigned reading for this week prompts us to remember our ultimate destination. And, as in all the other, lesser journeys of daily life, the destination ought to impact the trip that we make to get there. For the destination makes a difference.
Acts 7:55-60
I’m sure that some artist must have painted this moment. For many generations, biblical scenes were the favorite subject matter of artists in Europe, and this particular scene is pregnant with possibilities. I think especially of Rembrandt for this task. He was famous for his use of light and darkness. And this scene from Acts 7 would have conspicuously lit and shadowed faces.
Consider the characters — and the looks — in this dramatic moment.
In the center would be the luminous face of Stephen. He is persecuted, attacked, injured, and dying — yet his face shines. What explanation lies behind this paradox?
Stephen is persecuted and beaten yet is not looking at his bloodied body nor at his vicious tormentors. Rather, Stephen is looking up toward heaven. And then we discover that, while his face is bright, it is not itself a source of light. Rather, his face is lit by the glory of the Lord, whom he sees waiting for him in heaven. The light of the Lord shines on Stephen like peace in a storm, and he is able to pray this superhuman prayer that the Lord would not hold his executioners’ sin against them.
Where Stephen focuses is a lesson to us all. Most of us will not be called upon to die for our faith in Christ, let alone in this dramatic way. But we will be mistreated by people along the way. We will all have some wounds, whether internal or external. And it will be up to us where we will place our focus in the midst of it all.
Meanwhile, in contrast to the shaft of light that is shared between Stephen and Christ, there are the characters in the shadows. Specifically, here in the foreground, we see the tormentors. They are the ones who have brought accusations against Stephen. They are the ones who have been throwing stones. Yet they are the ones who, in reality, look like they are being tormented. Their faces are twisted in rage. Their brows are furrowed, their eyes glare wildly, and their hands are over their ears. They can’t take anymore of Stephen’s words — or perhaps of Stephen’s spirit. Yet while the ones with the stones in hand are the ones in pain, the one who is being battered is serene.
Again, most of us will not be personally privy to a vigilante execution such as the one reported in Acts 7. We will see, however, people who are tortured by their own anger. Human beings can become prisoners of their fury, and they are made miserable as a result.
Then there is one more element to the scene, one more character to detect. He is both in the shadows and off to the side. There is so much else going on in the picture that we might easily miss him. But there, adjacent to the action, is a man named Saul. At this moment, he is incidental to the story. For the second half of the book of Acts, however, he will become the story.
Luke is a master storyteller, and he is skillful in introducing Saul to us here in this moment. For before the curtain closes on the larger story that Luke is telling, Saul will move out of the shadows and into the light. He will transition from being among the stone-throwers to being stoned. And he will be transformed from the anger of those who oppose God to the serenity of those who look to him.
I don’t know whether an artist from some bygone era has done justice to this scene in paint. Our opportunity this Sunday is to try to do justice to it in words. It is a dramatic and compelling moment, and it deserves to be preached.
1 Peter 2:2-10
We have technical terms for what we believe and affirm about different aspects of our faith. The term theology, of course, is used very broadly, but refers particularly to what we believe about God. Christology, likewise, expresses what we affirm about Christ. But when it comes to the theme that is so central to our selected passage from the epistles, ecclesiology is the order of the day, for so much of this excerpt from 1 Peter speaks to an understanding of the church.
By “church,” of course, I do not mean an institution, much less a building. Rather, embracing the sense of the term in the New Testament, I am thinking of the body of believers — the fellowship of those who share faith in Christ, the family of God. For it is people — not an institution or a building — that Peter has in view. Although, interestingly, he finds that a building is a helpful metaphor for that group of people.
The first observation to be made about these people is that they are meant to grow spiritually. Peter’s reference to “newborn babies” echoes a theme we see throughout the New Testament: namely, the theme of progress and maturation. It is not automatic, however; hence the hortatory tone.
Next comes the images of stones. Lest any reader fall prey to the temptation to think individually about their faith and privately about their relationship with God, Peter says we are being built together. A stone off by itself doesn’t amount to much. But God is bringing all of our individual stones together to combine us into a holy whole that worships, serves, and honors him.
And, speaking of stones, Peter reminds us of the cornerstone upon which we are being built — Christ himself. If something within us recoils at the thought of being compared to stones, now we see that it is a privilege, for the metaphor begins with none other than Christ. In quick succession, Peter quotes three Old Testament passages about stones — first from Isaiah, then from Psalms, and then again from Isaiah — which he understands to be fulfilled in Christ. And we see in each of these passages that the critical issue is in how people respond to that stone. And so it is that Jesus serves as the great watershed, the dividing line: everything comes down to how individuals, communities, and nations respond to him.
Finally, Peter’s rich, ecclesiological passage culminates with a potent series of images for what God has in mind for his church. “You are,” he says, “a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession.” Each one of these brief statements carries a treasure of implications. The people of God are different — special and purposeful. And lest we push back at the notion of being “special,” as though it conveys exclusivity, we see that God’s purpose for us in this world is one of witness: “so that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who has called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”
And, finally, we are reminded that our specialness is not innate. Rather, it is a function of God’s gracious, saving work. Recalling the Old Testament prophet Hosea, Peter writes of us, “once were not a people, but now you are the people of God; you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”
John 14:1-14
John offers us by far the fullest glimpse into Jesus’ Last Supper with his disciples. While the other three gospels all report the event in less than one chapter, this scene in John occupies most of five chapters. It is actually the longest single account in the whole of the fourth gospel as John shares with us so much of the teaching and dialogue from that night.
Our selected verses, while just a fraction of the larger passage, is a treasury of beautiful and important words from Jesus. Unless one is taking an expository approach and focusing exclusively on the gospel lection, the preacher will have to choose which particular jewel from this treasure chest he or she will highlight for the congregation. Among our choices, we find the following…
First, there is the reassuring word from Jesus not to be troubled. In the midst of an extremely troubling, confusing, and vulnerable moment, still he tells them not to be troubled. No doubt he says the same thing to you and me in the midst of our troubles. And the basis for our unnatural peace? Faith in Christ!
Next there is the beautiful promise of the Father’s house and the Lord’s preparations on our behalf. Who can measure the sweetness and beauty of this? Forbid it that we should ever overlook or take for granted the image of Jesus himself preparing a place for us. How generous is the act, and how marvelous the place!
Next, in quick succession, we are met with at least three remarkable Christological statements. What are we to believe about Jesus Christ? Let us begin with what he says about himself in John 14. He says that he is “the way, the truth, and the life.” He says that he is the only way to the Father. He tells the disciples that if they have seen him, they have seen the Father. And he says that he and the Father are one.
These are astonishing statements. C.S. Lewis famously argued that it is not intellectually honest to simply label Jesus a good, moral teacher, and it is precisely these kinds of radical statements that make Lewis’ point. For no man can be a good, moral teacher and say these kinds of things unless he is who he says he is. For if he is not who he says he is, then he is a lunatic for saying these things.
Finally, the section concludes with another collection of remarkable statements, this time about “works.” He urges his hearers to believe in him because of his works. By itself, that seems fine and straightforward. But then he takes it a step further, promising that those who do believe in him will, in turn, do those same works — and even greater! And that is followed, naturally, by a promise that he will do what is asked by those who have faith in him.
These, then, are some of the prominent jewels contained in this treasure chest of verses. But they are not detached jewels — rather, we might think of them being strung together in a strand. For what ties together all of these teachings is the Father. And we will think more about that theme below.
Application
In the 1953 biblical movie The Robe, we follow several of the main characters as they come to faith in Christ. One of them, Marcellus, is sentenced to be executed for refusing to renounce Jesus. And Diana, the woman who loves him, chooses to surrender herself to the same fate by confessing her faith in Christ during Marcellus’ trial. As they walk off to face their execution, their faces are serene, while the emperor who sentenced them is agitated and raving. He screams as they leave his court that they are going to a better kingdom.
To those unacquainted with scripture, the scene might seem artificial and melodramatic. For those who know the story of Stephen, however, the climactic scene looks very familiar. For, as we noted above, Stephen is at peace in the midst of torture and the face of death, while his tormentors are agitated and bloodthirsty. And the reason for the unreasonable peace displayed by both the real and fictitious martyrs is the same: their sense of destination. Stephen saw the glory of God and the Lord Jesus in heaven awaiting him. Marcellus and Diana were going to a better kingdom. And the destination makes all the difference.
The writer of Hebrews notes the same principle at work in the earthly life experience of Jesus himself. “For the joy that was set before him,” we read, Jesus “endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2 ESV). And the Apostle Paul, in a similar vein, wrote: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18 ESV).
What comes at the end of the journey, you see, impacts the experience of that journey. And so even if the journey itself is marked by pain or injustice, the destination makes all the difference.
And what is the destination? Jesus assures his followers in John’s Gospel that it is nothing less than the Father’s house! Jesus himself goes to prepare a place for us; he promises to come to get us; and he assures that where he is we will be also. That is our unfathomable destination. And if an exciting errand or much-anticipated vacation is enough of a destination to brighten our journey on any given day, how much more the ultimate destination of the journey of our lives!
Alternative Application(s)
John 14:1-14 — Always the Father
The Gospel of John gives us perhaps the most insight into the Trinity of all the gospels. Our selected gospel lection for this week is a good case in point. While it does not explicitly mention the Holy Spirit, it offers an excellent example of the dynamic within the Trinity as we hear the Son speak of the Father. For as we examine the passage, we discover that Jesus is pointing constantly to the Father.
We noted above several gems within the John 14 passage: Jesus’ word of reassurance to his troubled disciples; his promise of preparation; his revelatory statements about himself; and his teaching about works and belief. When we look carefully, we see that every one of those “gems” is connected to the Father.
The source of the disciples’ comfort in the face of troubled hearts is belief in Jesus — yet we observe that it is not Jesus alone. He begins with their faith in the Father, and then encourages them to have faith in him, too. This makes complete sense a moment later when Jesus says that he and the Father are one.
Then comes the promise of preparation. Jesus is the one who goes to prepare a place, to be sure, yet see where he goes and see the nature of the place: it’s the Father’s house. Jesus belongs there, of course, but the astonishingly good news is that he prepares for us to be there, too.
Next come the great Christological statements. Yet see, again, that while they are remarkable affirmations about Jesus, they are always about him in relation to the Father. He is the way to the Father. No one comes to the Father apart from him. To see him is to see the Father. He and the Father are one.
Then Jesus goes on to affirm that he speaks the Father’s words and he does the Father’s works. And those works, in turn, become the works of those who believe in Jesus, and specifically because he is going to the Father. And, as a final exclamation point on the whole passage, the believers are urged to ask anything of Jesus “so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.”
There is an ice cream restaurant in our community that offers dishes in three sizes: “Like it,” “Love it,” and “Gotta have it.” It’s a charming reformation of “small,” “medium,” and “large.” But it is also a troubling insight into how we view “love.” Love, you see, is revealed to be all about meeting one’s own desires and appetites.
That, of course, is not the nature of biblical love, at all. Biblical love is not about self, but about the other. Biblical love is not about self-gratification but self-sacrifice. And in this brief excerpt from the Gospel of John, we catch a small glimpse of the love within the Trinity. In all things, you see, Jesus is not about himself: he is about the Father. His identity, his purpose, his mission, and his joy are all found in the Father.
And we, in turn, may take our cue from Jesus at two levels. First, to emulate this selfless love that is always focused on the other. And, second, to make our lives, too, completely oriented toward the Lord. Let our identity, our purpose, our mission, and our joy also be found entirely in him.
