The Gospel of John - Chapter 19  (C. Trimble 7-16-23)

The Gospel of John - Chapter 20 (C. Trimble 7-31-23)

The Gospel of John - Chapter 21 (C. Trimble 7-30-23)

While establishing a new church in Silicon Valley years ago, the Lord provided me a job with what was then the highest-valued technology company in the world. But I was not a computer scientist, engineer, or coder. I barely knew how to send an email. I was in way over my head. And one day in a meeting, I came VERY close to exposing my ignorance and losing my job.

I was clueless about nearly all the terminology being thrown around in the discussion that day. So as usual, I just kept my head down and mouth shut. But then, someone used the acronym 𝘈𝘛𝘔. And suddenly, I imagined I might be able to contribute to the conversation. But thankfully, before I made the mistake of talking about the Automated Teller Machine at my bank, I quickly Googled ATM and discovered they were actually discussing something called Asynchronous Transfer Mode – whatever that means.

It's easy to get sidelined by unfamiliar terminology, and 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 can fall into that category. It’s one of those stained-glass words that tend to only be used and understood by theologians. And it can get even more opaque when preceded by the term 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 or 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦. But there are few things more important for every Jesus-follower to comprehend. In fact, it’s so essential to the Christian life that Jesus made it the climax of the second movement in his High Priestly Prayer. 

Before expanding the scope of his intercession in John 17 to specifically include all those who would follow in their footsteps, Jesus concluded the section focused on his original disciples with one final request to the Father on their behalf in verses 17-19. He prayed, “Sanctify them.”

The Greek word translated as 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺 means to render, declare, or set something apart as sacred. Jesus was asking that his followers be marked as standouts because of their holiness. It would be the basis of their testimony for him in this world. But that was an awfully big ask considering that these men were just as unholy as anyone else. They would need to undergo a transformation, and that transformation would be two-fold.

First, the Lord requested that this sanctification be accomplished by the impact of the Father’s truth on their lives in the form of his 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥, a term that means the entirety of the message. Jesus had spent the previous three years infusing the whole of the environment surrounding the disciples with the message of God. And it was THAT truth he was asking the Father to use in changing them as they embraced it daily, lived it out, and progressed toward holiness.

But a progressive sanctification is insufficient to produce the result Jesus prayed for. If you start with a sinner, the shaping influence of God’s word alone can’t produce a saint. That requires something else, a different starting point. The position from which the progression begins must be changed. And this positional sanctification can only be accomplished through the saving work the sinless Savior accomplished on the cross.

But when you start with a sinless Savior, sinners CAN become saints. And it’s why Jesus went on to say in verse 19, “I sanctify myself, that they also may be sanctified.” He set HIMSELF apart as a holy sacrifice to pay the penalty for sin, remove its stain from repentant sinners’ lives, and make it possible for them to be set apart unto holiness both positionally and progressively.

As believers, it’s our high privilege to be part of the answer to the Savior’s prayer for our sanctification. Let’s dedicate ourselves to steadily allowing God’s word to progressively shape us into the saints his sacrifice has already positionally made us to be.

John 17:17-19 • Positional and Progressive

Confession alert!

I’ve nursed a serious animosity toward the pastor of one of the mega-churches in the region where I live. He’s well-known and I’m obviously not, so we don’t run in the same circles. I only know him from news reports and his public statements. But I don’t like him. No, it’s more than that. I’m disgusted by him. And although I’m tempted to list all the reasons why, that would just be an attempt to justify the unjustifiable. My attitude has been sinful. Full stop.

Regardless of anything else he’s said or done, that man openly confesses Jesus as Savior. And that means we’re brothers in the faith and will spend eternity together in the presence of the Lord. How then can I possibly imagine it’s remotely acceptable to hold onto these feelings. I can’t. There will be no room for my judgmentalism when we stand side by side before and face to face with the one whose perfect love drove him to the cross for the sins of us both. I’ve been giving myself permission to hold one of the Lord’s precious ones in contempt, and I choose to repent.

My sin was laid bare as I prepared to write this commentary on the final section of Christ’s High Priestly Prayer recorded in John 17. After praying for himself and then for the disciples, verses 20-26 record the Lord’s final two requests, and they’re specifically for all future believers. That includes me. So, when he began by asking that his followers would exhibit a unity among themselves so striking it would serve as a testimony to his divinity, the ugliness of the disunity I was harboring in my heart was exposed.

This is not an excuse in any way, but I don’t think I’m the only guilty one here. As the log is being pulled from my own eye, I think I spot some splinters in others’. It’s evident that oneness is not the first word that comes to mind when describing the current state of the U.S. church. We more often seem to reflect the polarization, distrust, and animosity of the world around us than the harmony Jesus prayed for.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not advocating for an anything-goes, sloppy agapē. We exercise godly wisdom when we assess others’ behaviors with humility in light of Scripture to avoid sin ourselves and be useful to the Holy Spirit in helping redirect those who’ve drifted off course spiritually. But we cross a line we should never trespass when we set ourselves up as the holiness or theology police and pass judgment on other believers. That’s because it disallows the second thing Jesus prayed for us.

In addition to requesting that his followers be one, he asked the Father to make it possible for them to one day be with him in heaven and experience his unfiltered glory. And there’s no way for that to happen if we insist on dragging our unholy discord into that holy place. We need to deal with it on this side of heaven and as aggressively as possible.

No one individual’s repentance can clean up the church’s relational mess. But if all of us who’ve contributed to it deal with our own, the impact will be profound. It’ll align us with our Savior’s desires and enable us to better serve as his witnesses.

I’m determined to do my part. I’m dealing with the specific iniquity I’ve already confessed, but I’m also inviting the Holy Spirit’s conviction regarding any other wrong-heartedness I’ve allowed to take root in my soul toward fellow believers. I want to be among those who become the answer to Jesus’ prayer not the reason for it, and I bet you do too.

John 17:20-26 • Relational Wrong-Heartedness

My wife and I recently vacationed in Honolulu, Hawaii, and I went for a walk one morning along the Ala Wai Canal. As I strolled under the canopy of the trees that line the pathway, I suddenly came upon two men wielding swords – real, metal swords – the kind that belong in a movie not the hands of strangers just ahead of you on the footpath. And I instantly experienced a shot of adrenaline along with an urge to run away. Two-swords-to-none are not good odds.

But after taking a second glance, I realized that these men weren’t a threat after all. They were just using that public space to practice a form of martial arts. So, I kept on walking, my heart rate began returning to normal, and I watched them with fascination. But my initial reaction to that surprise encounter got me thinking about the first six verses of John 18.

After celebrating Passover together in an upper room in Jerusalem, Jesus and his disciples had been on the move heading toward the northeast corner of the city as he taught them and prayed to his Father. Once outside the city walls, he led them across the Kidron Valley and into a garden called Gethsemane. The text describes it as a place they’d visited often, one where Judas would have expected them to go.

I'll get back to that in a minute. But before going any further, I need to note that at this point in the narrative of Christ’s passion, all three of the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) provide accounts of his raw and intense supplication to the Father. Often described as the 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯, this blood-sweating episode of intense prayer regarding the coming suffering of the cross concluded with an expression of his fresh and deep surrender as he cried out, “Not my will, but yours, be done.”

The significance of that aspect of the story of our redemption can't be overstated. But for reasons that are guided by its unique, Spirit-purposed perspective on the life and ministry of Jesus, John’s Gospel doesn't record that part of what happened at Gethsemane. It focuses instead on the Lord’s arrest that took place there on the same night. And the account of that event is what came to mind when I encountered the swordsmen.

Unlike the benign intensions of those two guys, the Roman troops, temple security forces, and Jewish leaders Judas led to the garden were armed with lethal weapons – which Matthew’s account describes as including swords – that were brandished in the harsh light of their lanterns and torches for the express purpose of intimidation. But even with full knowledge of where it would ultimately lead, Jesus didn’t attempt to avoid the confrontation. Instead, verse 4 tells us he, “went forward” to meet them head on. And when he boldly confirmed that he was the one they were seeking, they were the ones who verse 6 says, “drew back and fell to the ground.”

This bold, confident, and forceful turning of the tables on his adversaries was, like everything else Jesus said and did, purposeful. It demonstrated at least two things crucial to our faith.

First, Jesus was not a victim of the brutality he suffered. Out of love for us, he freely offered his life. It wasn’t taken from him. The events that led to and included the cross were never outside his control.

Second, whenever it feels like the devil has arrived on the scene of our lives to intimidate us with “lanterns, torches, and weapons,” we needn’t fear. The Lord has gone before us to provide the courage to face any assault head on and see the tables turned through the power of his consummate victory. As Colossians 2:15 says, “Having disarmed principalities and powers, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in it.”

John 18:1-6 • Lanterns, Torches, and Weapons

Have you ever misplaced the TV remote because you laid it down somewhere without thinking, stored something away for safekeeping and later forgot where you put it, or inadvertently left your credit card at a restaurant? Sure, you have. We all know what it feels like to lose something. But there are some of us who also know the other side of that emotion. They know what it’s like to feel lost. And that’s what John 18:7-9 speaks to.

The troops dispatched by the religious leaders to arrest Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane were picking themselves up off the ground. They’d stumbled backward in an involuntary response to the majesty on display in the Lord’s fearless acknowledgment that HE was the one they were looking for. And as they were getting back to their feet, verses 7-8 quote him giving them a second chance to identify the subject of their arrest warrant before once again confirming that HE was their target.

After that, referring to his disciples, he said, “If you seek me, let these go their way.” That selfless sentence reveals the depth of his concern for his followers, but it also reveals something else. The Greek word translated as 𝘭𝘦𝘵 is a forceful verb and makes clear Jesus wasn’t PLEADING for their safety. He was DEMANDING it. And the power behind his directive was so great the soldiers complied even after Peter drew a sword and attacked a representative of the high priest. 

Then, verse 9 describes why Jesus was so emphatic with that mandate by reminding us of something he’d just prayed on the way to the Garden. He’d told his Father, “Of those whom you gave me I have lost none.” That night in Gethsemane, the Lord wasn’t negotiating the terms of his surrender. He was keeping a promise.

And although that promise directly applied to his first disciples, he’s also quoted in the prayer that contains it as saying, “I do not pray for these alone, but also for those who will believe in me through their word” (John 17:20). So, he clearly included all of us following in the footsteps of their faith under the canopy of its provisions.

It’s also evident he meant it to encompass more than just physical safety. The word translated as 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 is a word expansive enough to accommodate every form of loss including emotional, relational, vocational, financial, and spiritual. Regardless of the conditions or circumstances that may cause any of us to feel otherwise, in Jesus, we are always found. He has promised to keep us in the firm but tender grip of his steadfast love.

This passage reveals the intensity of our Lord’s commitment to keep those the Father has given him. And a reflection of that intensity is familiar to every parent who’s ever experienced losing their child in a crowd. It’s as though everything else in the universe fades to black, and there’s one – and only one – thing that remains: the desire to find your baby. And Christ’s parables of the 𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘱, the 𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘊𝘰𝘪𝘯, and the 𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘰𝘯 in Luke 15 make clear he pursues and preserves those he loves with the same type of consuming focus.

So, if you’re feeling lost – misplaced, forgotten, left behind, adrift, or hidden – in any area of our life, Jesus had you mind when he spoke these words. Make the choice to reject the false narrative of your lostness and trust instead in the power of his promise.

John 18:7-9 • The Power of His Promise

I’m not now nor have I ever been an athlete, but I powerwalk from my home to the beach and back daily for exercise. My route takes about an hour and includes climbing several large hills. And every day, the final ascent requires me to decide all over again to push through my fatigue and embrace the challenge for the health benefit that results.

People are inclined to avoid discomfort by nature. Our bodies come equipped with an elaborate sensory response system designed to help us avoid or escape it. So, unless we’re forced to, yielding to an uncomfortable situation always requires a choice. And although I’m not in any way insinuating that a comparison can be made between the bit of resolve I exercise in overcoming reluctance to climb a hill during my workout and the Lord’s determination to climb Golgotha to face the sufferings of the cross, I believe John 18:10-11 provides us the opportunity to consider the pain he CHOSE to endure for our redemption.

Attempting to provide Jesus a chance to escape arrest, Peter grabbed one of the two swords in the disciples’ possession (Luke 22:38) and attacked Malchus, the high priest’s servant, cutting off his right ear. But the Lord immediately stepped into the fray, healed the man’s wound (Luke 22:51), and commanded Peter to sheath his weapon.

Then, he revealed in public the choice he’d made in private just moments before. Knowing full well what it would mean, he’d experienced intense agony as he wrestled with his Father regarding the 𝘤𝘶𝘱 that would be set before him. But in the end, his prayer was, “Not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42-44). So, he was saying more than words could ever capture when in response to Peter’s violent rescue efforts he asked the rhetorical question, “Shall I not drink the 𝘤𝘶𝘱 which my Father has given me?”

And in that statement posing as a question, Jesus was teaching us one of the most valuable spiritual lessons of all. He was showing us by example the importance of not reacting to the difficult circumstances God allows – for purposes far greater than our limited perspective can comprehend in the moment – by grabbing the first sword we can find and trying to hack our way out.

But that’s typically what we do isn’t it? My initial response to life’s difficulties is almost always to look for the nearest exit. But it turns out that those challenges are often the very things the Lord is using to escort me along the path to the fulfillment of my deepest desire, which is to know Christ and be conformed to his image. And more than that, they’re what enable me to reflect that image into this world with fewer smudges. That’s why James 1:2-4 tells us, “Count it all joy when you fall into various trials...that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.”

Learning to resist the instinct to avoid pain at all costs and choosing instead to seek the guidance of the Spirit before reacting to it is a critical discipline of our faith. Developing the habit of first engaging in Gethsemane prayer before attempting to squirm out of tight spaces can help us better follow in our Savior’s footsteps. It’s why he said, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me” (Matthew 16:24).

John 18:10-11 • Sheath the Sword and Drink the Cup

From the series “The Ways, Truth, & Life of Jesus: A Journey Through the Gospel of John,” Pastor Andrew Peterson preaches from John 15 on November 12, 2023.

The Ways, Truth, & Life of Jesus

In, But Not Of, Pt. 2

Church Webpage

There are few things more attractive than a campfire on a chilly night. Its warmth is comforting, its flickering light is mesmerizing, and the company of those sharing it is reassuring. But something tragic happened around the one described in John 18.

The narrative in the middle section of the chapter switches back and forth between two scenes, revealing their striking contrasts. Verses 12-14 and 19-27 follow Jesus from the arrest in Gethsemane through his initial hearing. Verses 15-18 and 25-27 focus on the drama of Peter’s denials.

Jesus was led away in shackles to stand trial before the Jewish authorities. But first, he was subjected to pretrial questioning by Annas, the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest. It’s unclear what the intended purpose was for this trial-before-the-trial, but what is clear is that tensions were already so sky high that nothing remotely resembling a fair hearing or lawful procedure could take place.

John leaves it to the other Gospel writers to document the cruelties and injustices the Lord suffered during his official trial before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin (e.g., Mark 14:55-65), but he reminds us that all of it took place within the context of Jesus having been prejudged. Without any due process, he’d already been sentenced to death by the high priest in an earlier private meeting of the religious leadership (John 11:47-53).

Still, throughout the sham interrogations, Jesus never attempted to hide, spin, or obfuscate. He took responsibility for and stood behind everything he’d said and done, making clear he’d conducted his ministry in the open for all to see and hear.

On the other hand, Peter did exactly the opposite. While Jesus was inside withstanding his interrogators by welcoming the light of scrutiny, out in the courtyard, Peter was avoiding his by choosing to hide in the darkness of denial.

This is puzzling because the text doesn’t seem to indicate that there was a need for him to have feared being identified as one of Jesus’ followers. He’d been escorted through the gate and onto the grounds by another disciple who, though unnamed, was known to the high priest and appears to have possessed the authority to do it. On top of that, the bystanders who confronted Peter don’t seem to have held the kind of positions that would represent any real threat and were more than likely just curious.

So, why was he insistent on denying his relationship with Jesus even after the Lord had warned him about it (John 13:38)? I don’t think we can know for sure, and even if we could, the answer would most certainly be multilayered. But it’s entirely possible that at least one of those layers had to do with the chill in the air and the allure of the campfire.

Some of us have been there. We know what it’s like to try to fit in around the world’s fire circle hiding our identity as Jesus-followers to avoid feeling embarrassed about our faith. And even if it plays out more subtly than Peter’s direct disavowals, the effect is the same.

But because we’ve been there, we can imagine a little of what Peter must have experienced as he warmed his hands and was suddenly aware that the rooster was crowing. The feelings of regret must have been overwhelming as he recalled the words of his Master’s prediction mingling with the sound of his denials on repeat in his mind. The juxtaposition of his failure unfolding on one end of that piece of real estate against what his Lord was enduring on the other must have been unbearable.

And although this part of his story serves as a warning to resist the temptation of the campfire, Peter’s faith journey doesn’t end here. I’m grateful for the beautiful account of his repentance and restoration that unfolds in the chapters ahead. And that encourages us to know we can find recovery from our failures through Christ’s forgiveness too.

John 18:12-27 • The Allure of the Campfire

Weekly sermons at The Experience Community - Murfreesboro

We are a faith community who have come together to be and make disciples of Jesus Christ. Located in St. Louis Park, MN. https://parkmn.com

New tracks tagged #gospelofjohn