John 14:1–11
I’ve been captivated again by the few chapters that lie between the Last Supper and the Garden of Gethsemane (John 14–17).
Over the next few months, I hope to spend time reflecting on them. This will be the space that keeps me accountable. So here begins the poorly named series Famous ‘Last’ Words. I call it that begrudgingly, because Jesus continues to – and is always – speaking. But I’ve come to see these chapters as a kind of epilogue to the Sermon on the Mount.
Do You Even Know Me?
Jesus whispers:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled.”
He knows what the week ahead holds.
That’s how He opens.
Not with rebuke.
Not with strategy.
But with comfort.
And He couples it with a promise of provision:
“My Father’s house has many rooms.”
Now, depending on the state of your heart –
that either makes it swell
or sounds like nonsense.
For Thomas, it was distraction.
He was too caught up in directions and destinations.
Where is this place?
How do we get there?
And Philip?
Philip interrupts.
Almost impatiently:
“Just show us the Father, and that’ll be enough.”
They’d seen the signs.
They’d heard the teaching.
They’d broken bread with the Word made flesh.
And yet… they missed Him.
Isn’t that wild?
To walk with God
and not realize He’s God?
To eat with Him.
Laugh with Him.
Watch demons flee, and lepers walk.
See bread multiply in your hands –
and still not recognize Him for who He is?
Philip wanted to see God,
not realizing that God had just knelt
and washed the dirt from between his toes.
Thomas wanted a map,
not realizing the Way was standing right in front of him.
I’ve been meditating on the kind of faith these men had.
Unlike others, they hadn’t seen Jesus glorified –
they saw a preacher who walked in the miraculous.
Not mountaintop faith.
Not flashy faith.
But the kind of faith that dared to ask bold questions.
Because even if they didn’t know much,
they knew this:
Jesus could handle their doubts.
And Jesus,
so full of compassion,
and yet so human in His pain,
says to Philip,
“Don’t you know me?”
You can almost hear His heart break.
El Elyon – A Side Quest
Lately, I’ve been sitting with the name El Elyon – God Most High1.
It’s funny, how easily we box Him in.
We crown the Father with that title,
but forget the Son and Spirit wear it too.
We wrap Jesus in swaddling cloths
or burial linens –
but forget the robe that fills the temple.
He is not just made in the image of God.
He is God.
Not Imago Dei.
But God, incarnate.
Fully human.
Fully divine.
The Mystery who walked among us.
The Way
Jesus begins to explain it:
“I am the Way.”
He shows us what it means to live life to the full.
Not living for the weekend.
Or the next paycheck.
Or even for ourselves and the people we love most.
But to live as Kingdom carriers.
People who reside at the altar.
Who heal the sick.
Who cast out demons.
Who call dead things back to life.
Who restore order in chaos.
Who carry peace that surpasses understanding.
Jesus didn’t come just to die and rise. He came to demonstrate a new way of life.
A life that:
loves well,
oozes joy,
leaves peace,
waits patiently,
carries kindness,
listens faithfully,
corrects gently,
and walks in self-control.2
The Truth
Our purpose was always to walk with Him in the cool of the day.
But we ruined it.
Not because we were hungry.
Not because we lacked something.
But because the fruit looked good.
We believed the whisper:
“You will not surely die.”3
And so from it grew selfish ambition, shame, sexual immorality – sin.
And we downplayed it as just the human condition.
But Jesus came to restore the truth.
That our days would again be marked by tending the things that bring Him glory.
That our lives would become worship.
Joining the angels as they cry:
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.
The whole earth is filled with His glory!”4
The Life
This is where real life is found – when we die to ourselves.
“Whoever wants to save their life will lose it.”5
Bonhoeffer puts it:
“When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die.”6
It’s an invitation into deeper surrender:
“He must become greater; I must become less.”7
We’ve spent so long chasing conversions –
making cultural Christians.
When what He asked for was disciples.
Not hands raised in a moment,
but generations laid down in surrender.
Discipleship means three things:
Be with Jesus.
Become like Jesus.
Do what He did.
(Practicing the Way – John Mark Comer)
It sounds simple.
But it will wreck your life – in the best way.
This isn’t about shame or condemnation.
But as I examine my own heart,
I see a life not always quick to surrender.
Slow to drop the nets.
Hesitant to count the cost.
As I’ve been getting my feet wet at the river’s edge,
I wonder – are there others who need to step in too?
And as we wade in deeper,
maybe the hope is not to stay afloat.
But to be swept under.
Pulled into complete dependency on Him.
Because that’s where real life is found.
Where we get to cry:
“Take these rags and make them beautiful.”8
And Jesus replies:
“Give me those rags, and I will give you a clean robe.”9
But you have to undress.
And that’s never dignified.
It’s vulnerable.
It’s exposing.
But it’s the only way to be made new.
So that:
“He who began a good work in you may bring it to completion.”10
We must return to Eden.
We must be reborn.
To sell everything for the treasure in the field.
Trading all our pearls for the one of greatest worth.11
Let’s not fall into the trap of Thomas and Philip.
Let’s press on – until, like Peter, we say:
“Lord, to whom shall we go?”12
Not because we’re desperate.
But because we’ve tasted and seen.
Because we know:
He is who He says He is.
The One who sits enthroned in Heaven.
The One who is worthy of it all.
The One who was, who is, and who is to come.
Amen
References
- El Elyon – Bible Gateway ↩︎
- Paraphrase of Galatians 5:22-23 ↩︎
- Genesis 3:4 ↩︎
- Isaiah 6:3 ↩︎
- Matthew 16:25 ↩︎
- The Cost of Discipleship – Dietrich Bonhoeffer ↩︎
- John 3:30 ↩︎
- Inspired by Jesus We Love You — Bethel ↩︎
- Zechariah 3:3-5 ↩︎
- Philippians 1:6 ↩︎
- Matthew 13:44-46 ↩︎
- John 6:68 ↩︎