I DID NOT tell you this at first because I was with you. 5“Now I am going to him who sent me, yet none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ 6Because I have said these things, you are filled with grief. 7But I tell you the truth: It is for your good that I am going away. Unless I go away, the Counselor will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you. 8When he comes, he will convict the world of guilt in regard to sin and righteousness and judgment: 9in regard to sin, because men do not believe in me; 10in regard to righteousness, because I am going to the Father, where you can see me no longer; 11and in regard to judgment, because the prince of this world now stands condemned.
12“I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. 13But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. 14He will bring glory to me by taking from what is mine and making it known to you. 15All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will take from what is mine and make it known to you.
16“In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me.”
17Some of his disciples said to one another, “What does he mean by saying, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me,’ and ‘Because I am going to the Father’?” 18They kept asking, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’? We don’t understand what he is saying.”
19Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me’? 20I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. 21A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. 22So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. 23In that day you will no longer ask me anything. I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. 24Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.
25“Though I have been speaking figuratively, a time is coming when I will no longer use this kind of language but will tell you plainly about my Father. 26In that day you will ask in my name. I am not saying that I will ask the Father on your behalf. 27No, the Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God. 28I came from the Father and entered the world; now I am leaving the world and going back to the Father.”
29Then Jesus’ disciples said, “Now you are speaking clearly and without figures of speech. 30Now we can see that you know all things and that you do not even need to have anyone ask you questions. This makes us believe that you came from God.”
31“You believe at last!” Jesus answered. 32“But a time is coming, and has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me.
33“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
Original Meaning
THE BALANCE OF the Farewell Discourse (before Jesus’ final prayer in ch. 17) continues many of the themes already introduced in the Upper Room. Struggles with the world, the need for the Spirit’s assistance, the trauma of Jesus’ death and departure, and the reassurance of his imminent return all find attention here. In fact, there are so many parallels between chapter 16 and chapter 14 that some scholars have wondered if perhaps this is a duplicate version of the earlier chapter, or perhaps Jesus is replowing ground already covered.
Other scholars point to the seemingly final remark in 14:31c (“Come now; let us leave”) and the question in 16:5, “Now I am going to him who sent me, yet none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ ” Note that this is precisely the question Peter asked in 13:36 and Thomas in 14:5. This has inspired numerous rearrangement theories for the Farewell Discourse (see comments on ch. 14). For some, Jesus’ words in chapter 16 were some of the first words he taught that evening. But as I have made clear in my comments on chapter 14, this does not have to be our only understanding of these chapters (see further below).
The two chief themes Jesus concentrates on in this chapter concern the work of the Spirit-Paraclete (16:5–15) and Jesus’ anticipated return (16:16–33). This divides the chapter into two neat divisions. (1) Jesus continues the subject of the hostility of the world (begun at 15:18) and explains the function of the Spirit to convict the world as a prosecutor might make a persuasive argument in court. He also explains that the Spirit has a revelatory role quite different from the one we studied in 14:26, for he will unveil things not yet revealed to the disciples. John 16:12 offers a genuine prophetic role for the Spirit in the followers of Jesus.
(2) Beginning at 16:16, the Greek word mikron (“a little while”) is repeated again and again to reassure the disciples that their separation from Jesus will be short-lived. The emphasis here is on the cross and the resurrection (as John 14 emphasized the Second Coming), saying in effect that Jesus’ “return” from the grave will be a spectacular source of joy. From this point on, the intimacy they share with Jesus, the knowledge they have of his will, will be unsurpassed.
The Fourth Promise of the Spirit (16:4b–11)
JESUS’ CANDOR ABOUT the coming sufferings stems from his awareness that he will not be with them to absorb the hostility of the religious authorities. In past times he has been with them (16:4b); but in the future, while he will be within them in the Spirit, they will have to bear the brunt of persecution. As in the earlier chapters Jesus’ departure brought dismay (13:31ff.), so now Jesus returns to the subject of his going away.
Jesus’ statement in 16:5 (“. . . yet none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ ”) has perplexed many since in 13:36 and 14:5 this is precisely what Peter and Thomas ask. Numerous solutions have been proposed: Bultmann and Bernard, for instance, rearranged the Farewell Discourse, placing chapter 16 earlier than 14 (solving the problem of 16:5) and linking 14:31 with 18:1. But these schemes often generate even more complications and today are unpopular.
Others (such as Brown and Schnackenburg) point to an editor (even John himself) who perhaps assembled these chapters from sources and out of respect for the tradition, did not correct the problem. But would John (or a disciple) have left such a wrinkle in his text and not taken the time to iron it out?
Still others (Carson, Beasley-Murray) argue that the details of the text provide insights that reconcile these verses. Hoskyns reasonably argues that in fact the disciples have not grasped the reality of Jesus’ departure and so the question must be asked again. Carson thinks that the first questions were rhetorical, focusing on their dismay and not really on Jesus’ destination.
Note that in 16:5 Jesus speaks in the present tense: “No one is asking. . . .” His interest here is that in light of his disclosures about persecution, no one is pressing him about his departure. This question thus must be linked to 16:6. Sorrow has so swamped the disciples’ lives that they have forgotten that Jesus’ death is not the end of everything, it is the beginning. They are concentrating on the wrong subject. “No one is asking me, ‘Where are you going?’ ” Peter’s earlier question was about the reasonableness of the cross. Thomas was asking about the way of Jesus’ departure. But now, Jesus says, these are secondary. The point is the goal of his glorification, namely, the Father’s presence.
Moreover, from their perspective Jesus’ departure will bring a direct benefit. John 7:37–39 taught that the Spirit could not be given until Jesus was glorified. John 16:7 says the same thing. The Spirit-Paraclete1 can only be sent to the disciples after Jesus’ departure. If he does not go away, if he is not glorified, then the Spirit cannot come. In some fashion, then, it is mutually exclusive to have both this Spirit and Jesus on earth. The Spirit is a gift that must await the trigger of Jesus’ going.
In 16:8–11 Jesus gives another description of what the Spirit will do in this difficult relationship with the world. Let’s summarize what we have seen so far. The world cannot know the Spirit-Paraclete because it does not know or love God (14:15–17). Amidst the hostilities of the world, the Spirit-Paraclete will defend believers, strengthening their witness (15:26–27) and their recollection of the things Jesus has taught (14:26). All of this is defensive. Now in 16:8–11 the Spirit-Paraclete “passes to the attack.”2 As if in a court of law, the defender now becomes prosecutor and judge. Note carefully that this is precisely the role of Jesus in the Gospel of John. He who is on trial, who must defend his signs and words, will finally judge his accusers. This happened in chapter 9 when in 9:35–41 Jesus personally came to the aid of the blind man. The Spirit (who theologically becomes Jesus’ alter ego) plays the same role.3
Precisely how we are to understand the work of the Spirit in these verses has been difficult. While we cannot survey all of the issues here,4 we can nevertheless give the general contours of the problem. One important issue involves the Greek verb elencho, translated “prove wrong about” in the first edition of the NIV: “[The Spirit] will prove the world wrong about sin. . . .” Here the idea is that of convincing the world about the truth of its wrongdoing. Brown thinks this contradicts 14:17, since there the world cannot accept the Spirit-Paraclete.5 But this is a different matter: In 14:17 Jesus is talking about receiving the Spirit, not hearing its message.
If this issue is not about convincing the world, perhaps elencho means to convict the world, exposing its sin and judging it. If so, then the problem is that we must explain the three clauses from 16:9–11. Does the Spirit convict the world concerning its sin, its righteousness, and its judgment? If so, how is the world “righteous”? Perhaps the Spirit convicts the world of its wrong ideas concerning sin, righteousness, and judgment. Or note the 1978 revision to the NIV: “When he comes, he will convict the world of guilt in regard to sin and righteousness and judgment” (italics added). Even though the italicized phrase is absent in the Greek, the sense here is that the Spirit is a prosecuting counsel, now exposing the world of its sinfulness.
In the New Testament, elencho occurs seventeen times and in most cases describes an instance where someone’s sin is exposed (leading to the related idea “to convict”). Thus John the Baptist exposes and convicts Herod of sin (Luke 3:9). Similarly, prophecy has the power to convict (1 Cor. 14:24), and we are charged to convict or rebuke sinners (1 Tim. 5:20; James 2:9; Jude 1:5) and antagonists to the faith (Titus 1:9). Therefore the meaning of the verb has to do with exposing sin and its guilt.
In John the judicial context sharpens it further: This is exposure leading to conviction and judgment. The fundamental idea is that the world has already conducted its “trial” of Jesus and found him guilty and deserving of death. But in fact, Jesus is innocent and the world stands accused of error and sin. The Spirit-Paraclete “unveils to the world the real nature of sin and righteousness and judgment in light of what God was doing in Jesus.”6 The clauses that follow 16:8 may therefore indicate cause (“. . . about sin, because it . . .”; so Carson, Barrett) or further explain the substance of the accusation (“. . . about sin, inasmuch as . . .”; so Smalley, Brown, Morris).7 In 16:6–11 the words “sin and righteousness and judgment” possess no article; thus, the Spirit unveils the truth about these ideas, not specific instances of the world’s sin, and so on.
To sum, the world is now put on notice: Its guilt will be exposed. The Spirit will bring to light the true meaning of sin and righteousness and judgment and expose the world’s fatal errors. As in a grave and major trial, the verdict will be announced with absolute clarity: The world is guilty. The world may be persuaded to accept it, but it cannot deny that the verdict has been given any more than a criminal can miss the judgment passed on the final day of his or her trial.
The work of the Spirit here is an operation on the “conscience of the world.”8 But since the world cannot receive the Spirit, this operation will be effected through the work of the church, which has the Spirit and which provides a bold testimony to the truth. The disciples who have been wrongly accused are affected too. This word from the Spirit confirms their confidence in the truth, assuring them that the accusations against them are false and that a divine prosecution of the world has already begun because the world has rejected Jesus.
The three clauses given in 16:9–11 each offer important descriptions of the errors of the world and the bases of its conviction. (1) The first error (16:9) is the refusal to believe. That this is a primary sin is clear (1:11; 3:19; 15:22). It does not refer to ignorance, as if at issue is a problem of intellect; it is a problem of will and so implies rejection (cf. 5:43–47; 9:39–41).
(2) The second error (16:10) thinks that through Jesus’ death his unrighteousness will be demonstrated for all to see. But God plans to reverse this and make the cross a place of glorification in which Jesus’ innocence and righteousness are proclaimed. The surprising reversal is that it is the world that lacks true righteousness (see 3:19–21; 7:7; 15:22, 24). So when the world celebrates “the end of Jesus” at the tomb because he cannot be seen any longer (16:10b), the disciples can celebrate the true circumstances of his absence: He has been enthroned with the Father. This is the essence of the church’s Easter proclamation.
(3) The third error concerns judgment (16:12). Jesus has not been judged by his trial; rather, the world has been judged. Jesus has described the world’s ability to judge as perverse and darkened (7:24; 8:16), and therefore it is incapable of making correct decisions about God. In 12:31 and 14:30 Jesus identifies the source of this error to be the “prince of this world” (no doubt Satan). While the absolute hold of Satan has been broken and he has been judged through the cross, he still has power over the present world (1 John 5:19; cf. Eph. 2:2; 6:12). Thus as the hour of glorification approaches, Jesus realizes that it is the world’s “hour” as well: “Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out” (12:31). This Jesus who has been rejected and who now sits enthroned has become the world’s chief judge.
The Fifth Promise of the Spirit (16:12–15)
THIS FINAL PROMISE of the Spirit (again called “the Spirit of truth,” see comments on 14:26) brings to a climax the range of the Spirit’s work among the followers of Jesus. But something new and important here is added. While the work of the Spirit in 14:26 stressed “remembering” the historic words of Jesus uttered in his ministry, 16:12–15 suggests that the Spirit will provide supplementary revelations that the disciples have not yet heard.9
Some commentators have genuine difficulty with these verses. But on closer inspection, such apparent problems dissipate. For instance, in 15:15 Jesus said that he has told his disciples everything he has heard from the Father. But 16:12 describes the work of the Spirit who will have new things to say, things the disciples have not yet heard. This is now a different time, a different experience. Nor does this verse stand in contradiction with 14:26, where Jesus describes a different function of the Paraclete, namely, recalling and preserving the historic words of Jesus. Here in 16:12–13 Jesus speaks of a future time when new things will be disclosed. Both of these passages work together. The historical Jesus and his ministry stand alongside the ongoing living Jesus-in-Spirit, who is continuously experienced in the church.
But this new revelatory work, this ongoing divine voice of the Spirit, has its limitations. The Spirit is dependent on Jesus for everything he says (16:13). Note the tense of these verbs: The Spirit is not only going to reiterate the things Jesus has said (remembering, 14:26), but he will convey the things that Jesus will say (revelation). The revelation of Jesus will continue in the community and the Spirit-Paraclete will be the authoritative channel through which he is heard. Yet these revelations may not depart from what Jesus uttered in his historic ministry. Historic revelation must always be the measure by which new revelations are tested. Revelations that fail to glorify Jesus (16:14), that fail to recognize Jesus’ preeminence and glory, dishonor the Father since it is he who is the source of everything Jesus has (16:15). The Father is at work in the Son, the Son is at work in the Spirit; any revelation that disrupts the glory of these is not from God.
“What is yet to come” in 16:13b may refer to the events of the trial and crucifixion that are coming, but this would be odd since the Spirit will not be received until after these events. Thus, this phrase more likely refers to a genuine prophetic gift that will disclose the future—a gift like that exercised in the book of Revelation and described in 1 Corinthians 12:29–30. The Spirit’s “making known” is not of Jesus’ previous historic teachings10 nor is it confined to the eyewitnesses of the apostolic era, whose prophetic work will close with the canon.11 As Bernard wrote, “this is the only place in John where any of the Pauline charismata of the Spirit are mentioned.”12
Jesus’ Return, the Disciples’ Joy (16:16–22)
ONE PROMINENT FEATURE of the promises of the Spirit in chapter 14 had to do with the second coming of Christ. That is, Jesus was indeed “coming back” (14:3) but in some fashion the realization of the Spirit at Pentecost would satisfy many of these desires of reunion with the Lord. We might say that the Parousia (or return) of Jesus is being interpreted in light of the Spirit. Now in 16:16–24 something similar is afoot. While the question in chapter 14 may have turned on how Jesus would return, the question in 16 is when. Here the focus is on the events of Easter.
The departure of Jesus and its distress for the disciples has been a constant theme in the Upper Room. Jesus does not let them ignore the reality of his going, and in 16:16 he brings it up again: “In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me.” Jesus had said almost the same thing in 14:19. Now seven times in this chapter (16:16–19) Jesus refers to “a little while” (Gk. mikron), which prompts the central question of the section: “What does he mean by saying, ‘In a little while . . .’?” (16:17a). The confusion of the disciples is understandable. In 16:10 Jesus has said that he is going to the Father and they will not see him any longer. Now he says that they will see him, and it won’t be long. What can he mean? The confusion swirls through the circle of disciples from verses 17–19.
This is not intentional ambiguity on Jesus’ part, nor is this an attempt to provide a double meaning (Barrett). Jesus is not talking about his second coming either (Brown). Rather, he is simply referring to his return in resurrection. He is departing from the world in his glorification and the world will no longer have access to him. When he returns in resurrection, it will be his followers’ final opportunity to see him as he has always been.
What clues point to the resurrection? (1) The opening words of 16:20 underscore the seriousness of Jesus’ answer. The NIV’s “I tell you the truth” disguises the Greek “truly, truly.”13 The celebration of the world (16:20b) can only point to Jesus’ crucifixion, which is contrasted with a time of sorrow for the disciples (16:20a), triggered by their shock at Jesus’ death. Weeping and mourning were common descriptions of sorrow at death (Jer. 22:10 LXX; Luke 7:32; cf. John 11:31, 33; 20:11, 13, 15). But this sorrow will be transformed into “joy” because Jesus will not be defeated by the grave.14 Note that when the disciples do in fact see Jesus again on Easter, they are filled with “joy” (20:20).
(2) Jesus twice says “you will see me” (16:17, 19). This is the one-line identification employed on Easter by Mary (20:18), the disciples (20:20, 25a), and Thomas (20:25b). Seven days after Easter Jesus invites Thomas to “see” him (20:27, 29). John himself knows that this promise of “seeing” was at the heart of his confidence about Jesus (1 John 1:1, “That . . . which we have seen with our eyes . . . this we proclaim concerning the Word of life”). There is no doubt that it is the resurrection of Jesus when the joy promised in 16:20 will be fulfilled.
(3) The analogy Jesus uses in 16:21–22 of a woman in labor and childbirth was frequently used in the Old Testament to illustrate the anguish Israel (or a person) might have to endure before God’s wonder and blessing were finally experienced (Isa. 21:2–3; 26:16–21; 66:7–10; Jer. 13:21; Hos. 12:13; Mic. 4:9–10; cf. Rev. 12:2–5; 1QH 3:18). The woman’s suffering (Gk. thlipsis) also recalls the suffering of God’s people before the Lord brings final deliverance (Zeph. 1:14–15; Hab. 3:16; Mark 13:19, 24).
Isaiah 26:16–31 is particularly important since it combines the ideas of “a little while” and the picture of a woman in labor. “As a woman with child and about to give birth writhes and cries out in her pain, so were we in your presence, O LORD.” Then God answers through the prophet: “Go, my people, enter your rooms and shut the doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while until his wrath has passed by” (Isa. 26:17, 20, italics added).
Since these ideas—suffering and dramatic deliverance—are properly eschatological, this has led some commentators to say that Jesus is actually referring to the Second Coming in 16:16 (or at least that John is confusing the Second Coming with Easter, or reinterpreting it). But such a view is unnecessary. The cross and resurrection represent a dramatic deliverance; but more, they truly inaugurate an era in which eschatological gifts such as the Spirit are given.
Prayer and Understanding (16:23–33)
THIS JOY AT seeing Jesus will not only result in a renewed relationship with him, but it will have two notable effects: the joy of understanding (16:23a) and the joy of efficacious prayer (16:23b–24).15 The confusion described in 16:16–18 will no longer be theirs. At last they will understand (see 16:25–30). The momentous event of the resurrection will at once dispel their apprehensions.
Of course, these faithful men had on many occasions asked God for things in prayer. But the new theological order stipulates that they ask in Jesus’ name, which is something new, something that belongs to the new spiritual era inaugurated by Jesus’ work (see comments on 14:13–14; 15:7, 16). Hoskyns quotes Swete: “The name of Christ is both the passport by which the disciples may claim access into the audience chamber of God and the medium through which the Divine answer comes.”16 Jesus is their shepherd, their patron who will take care of their needs. The intimacy that will result from his indwelling them and their obedience to his word assures their success.
Jesus recognizes that his ministry had used parables and sayings that were difficult to understand. The misunderstanding of the people is a characteristic of the Synoptic portrait of his ministry. Both the crowds and the apostles could not understand many things he did and said (Mark 9:32). In John we have seen in the Book of Signs how often misunderstanding became a literary motif, showing us as readers the world’s inability to comprehend the complete significance of Jesus.
Jesus had taught “figuratively” (16:25), but the Greek word used here (paroimia) does not simply mean illustrative speech or the use of metaphor and parable; rather, it is speech that is obscure and enigmatic. It occurs in the good shepherd sermon, “Jesus used this figure of speech [Gk. paroimia], but they did not understand what he was telling them” (10:6). For the Middle Easterner, this is the “dark saying,” which typically possesses prophecy or wisdom.
The “hour” (16:25; NIV, “time”) that is coming, however, is not the time immediately following, but the “hour of glorification,” that passage of Jesus out of this world when he returns to the Father and sends to them the Holy Spirit (2:4; 7:39). As we have seen many times, hora (“hour”) is a theological term for John. This will be a new era, when revelation of Jesus will be spoken “plainly” (Gk. parresia). No doubt we should again look to the work of the Spirit, through whose efforts the Father’s words given through the Son are brought to the disciples (14:10; 15:15), and through whose presence the Father and the Son indwell the disciples (14:23).
This “hour” is about access. Jesus himself has mediated the Father’s presence to the world (16:27b; cf. 14:9), and now the Father himself is accessible (16:26–27). There is a new circle of fellowship possible, which now includes not simply Jesus and the disciple, but Jesus, the disciple, and the Father.17 As Augustine commented, “The Son does not ask the Father, but the Father and the Son alike listen to those who ask.”18
One might call 16:28 a terse, or “plain” (cf. 16:25b), summary of John’s doctrine of Christ. His origins are divine and he comes from God; he was sent on a mission to the world; he will return to the Father after completing his work. This is the essence of the Christian faith, distilled to its most essential form. It shows the paradox of the incarnational service of the Son.
The disciples immediately celebrate this “plain speech” (16:29–30) and feel confident that in Jesus they have gained access to unsurpassed wisdom. But this is one more example of tragic misunderstanding, such as we have seen in every other discourse. This final discourse too must end on the same note. The time of complete understanding is coming with the hour of glorification, when the Spirit is given to them as a powerful and unique endowment. It is the Spirit who will give this insight and wisdom from Jesus, and this gift must await “the hour.” It cannot happen now. So Jesus must abruptly censure their exuberance (16:31–32).
The language of 16:31 does not make a declaration (as in NIV: “You believe at last!”), as if Jesus now finally can rejoice in their brilliant insights about him. The disciples have not at last discovered faith. This misses the point. Instead, Jesus is asking a question (RSV/NRSV: “Do you now believe?”), placing some doubt on their achievement.19 They do not believe with the rigor or insight that they think. Now they think they’ve got it? At the “hour,” in fact, they will be scattered in their fear (16:32; cf. Matt. 26:56). If they had understood, if they had believed fully, they would have the strength to cross this obstacle, but they do not.
While his disciples will desert him, Jesus says that nevertheless he will not be alone because the Father will never leave him (John 16:32b). This verse does not contradict Jesus’ cry of desolation on the cross (Mark 15:34, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). In John, Jesus is comparing the faithfulness of God through the hour of glorification and contrasting it with the faithlessness of his disciples. Mark records Jesus’ moment of agony when he cites Psalm 22:1, which reflects something of the mystery of his complete humanity, a humanity that could experience desolation even at this depth.20
John 16:33 records Jesus’ final words to his disciples before his arrest. Last words are always precious. These words given by Jesus are doubly so. Luther wrote of them in a letter to Melanchthon, “Such a saying as this is worthy to be carried from Rome to Jerusalem upon one’s knees.”21
Jesus does not continue his chastising words of 16:31–32 but instead supplies comfort and reassurance. His exhortation was for their benefit since the days to come will be difficult for each of them. He has already referred to peace (14:27) and joy (16:20, 22) as two gifts belonging to his followers, but these must be seen together with the struggle (NIV “trouble”) and conflict they have in the world. Discipleship is about learning how to discover peace when surrounded by threat, how to possess tranquillity despite those hostile to your faith. The solution is “courage” (Gk. tharseo, 16:33b; NIV “take heart!”). This word occurs only here in John but is used in the Synoptics to describe the attitude Jesus sought in the disciples during the Galilee storm (Matt. 14:27; Mark 6:50). It was also the word given by the Lord to Paul in Jerusalem when he was surrounded by enemies (Acts 23:11). Despite the circumstances, the victory of Jesus (“I have overcome the world”) outweighs the jeopardy of the present crisis.
Bridging Contexts
CHAPTER 16 PROVIDES an array of practical possibilities. While there are numerous relevant themes that can be brought into our generation, interpreters have not always agreed on how some of them ought to be applied. This is particularly true of the work of the Spirit in 16:8–11 and 16:12–14. Among those interpreters who stress the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit in the church today, these verses have a great deal to say. But among those who confine the Spirit’s revelatory work to the apostolic age and see the development of the canon of Scripture as the chief effort of the Spirit, these verses have a restricted applicability.
In John 16 Jesus continues to talk about the equipment of the church as he anticipates his departure. He began this lengthy sermon in 13:31; therefore, students of chapter 16 should begin their study there in order to see how themes woven throughout the discourse are presupposed in the present verses. Foremost on Jesus’ mind is the gift of the Holy Spirit, which he promises five times in chapters 14–16. He even supplies a unique name for the Spirit, the “Paraclete” (see comment on 14:16).
This Spirit will not only bring gifts to the church, but will supply the ongoing presence of Jesus in the church. In this sense, throughout the discourse Jesus and the Spirit are closely aligned. The Spirit virtually becomes the alter ego of Jesus (as I termed it above), continuing Jesus’ work and reiterating his words. In chapter 14 Jesus makes a subtle play on the language regularly used for his second coming. “I will come back” (14:3) evolves to “I will come to you” (14:18) so that by the end of the chapter, we find ourselves learning that Jesus’ “coming” might well be an apt description of the indwelling of the Spirit-Paraclete.
Now in chapter 16 a different theological question comes into view. If it is true that the “coming” of Jesus can also be found in the coming of the Spirit, the disciples now inquire when this will happen. Chapter 16 thus gives us numerous clues that point to the day of resurrection, Easter, as the great day when all questions will be dispelled and when Jesus’ relationship with his followers will be perfected in the Spirit.
Keeping this wider theological framework in mind, there are at least four themes that come to the fore in any application of the chapter. John provides our two final descriptions of the work of the Spirit; to these should be added the theological meaning of the resurrection not only as a validation of Jesus’ divine sonship, but as an experience for disciples solidifying their understanding of Jesus. Finally, the chapter ends with a candid description of the tensions inherent in the Christian life, a life of empowerment and victory that simultaneously experiences difficulties in the world.
The duties of the Spirit. In 16:4b–11 (the fourth promise of the Spirit) Jesus outlines some of the remarkable duties of the Spirit. An interpreter must first decide the meaning of the Greek verb elencho (see above, 16:8). Does this describe convincing or convicting? If the Spirit convinces, who is his audience: disciples in their witness before the world or the world itself? The latter option is difficult to defend since the world is rarely convinced of its error as it stands in stark opposition to Christ. Despite its value as an apologetic tool, this view of the Spirit in 16:8–11 will have to go.
But if the Spirit convicts (as I have argued), then the audience is most naturally the world, which (ironically) is really on trial here before God. The courtroom scenario of the Fourth Gospel (or the “trial motif”) we have seen since chapter 5 now undergoes a dramatic reversal: The Spirit will empower the testimony of the church, making its word incisive and its indictment of the world clear. The message of the church is not only about a “better product” or a better life that might entice the unbeliever. The message of the church is also prophetic: It incriminates the moral and spiritual bankruptcy of the world around us. The world lives under the judgment of God; its institutions are infirm and impotent. When the church announces its indictment in the power of the Spirit, there will be trouble.
The revelatory role of the Spirit. In John’s fifth promise of the Spirit (16:12–15), Jesus discloses that the Spirit will have a revelatory role, unveiling things that the disciples have not yet heard. These verses complement what we read in 14:26, and the two sections must be read closely together. John’s understanding of revelation has two foci: (1) There is historical remembering, in which the words from Jesus’ earthly ministry are recalled accurately by the Spirit. (2) There is ongoing illumination, which either (a) applies these historic words to new contexts or (b) opens up new vistas, new ideas, that the church has not known before.
Evangelicals have traditionally preferred to see this work of the Spirit as closely tied to the development of Scripture and its use. This is in part an exegetical decision that believes that the promises of this section belong not to the church universal but to the apostles only. “I have much more to say to you” (16:12, italics added) points to Jesus’ immediate audience. Hendriksen’s well-known commentary on John thus sees this ongoing revelation in 16:12 as fulfilled in the writing of the book of Acts and Paul’s letters.22
But if the Spirit’s work goes beyond the production of the Scriptures—that is, if we have here a genuine prophetic gift that provides ongoing revelation—we then have to discern the guidelines and limitations for such revelation. Is this promise (like so many biblical promises) extended to every Christian? I would argue that it is.23 If so, what are the limits of its use? Calvin, for instance, writing in 1553 on these verses, lapses into nothing short of a tirade here as he outlines the “wicked abuses” of medieval Catholics, who (in his mind) use the verse to justify the “most stupid and absurd things imaginable.”24 Some would argue that the Protestant church in the modern era has been subject to similar abuses.
Jesus and his disciples. The incomprehensibility of Jesus’ words and deeds not only frustrated the disciples (note 16:29, “Now you are speaking clearly”) but must have frustrated him as well. He is their friend (15:15), and friends share a mutual understanding that is impossible with strangers. Yet Jesus knows that it is impossible for them to comprehend the totality of who he is and of what God is doing in the world before the time of his glorification. In particular, his resurrection will change everything when they will no longer need to ask him questions (16:23). “Seeing Jesus” is the solution, and this “seeing” will take place on Easter when the tomb is opened (16:16) and all questions disappear.
This means a couple of things for us. (1) The resurrection should be the center point of our proclamation about Jesus. It is not one more event in a series of events, it is the event that climaxes Jesus’ self-revelation in the world. It is a historical confirmation that God has penetrated our world and begun to set things right.
(2) But this proves to be a dilemma for those of us who live on the other side of the resurrection. We have questions. We have not had the privilege of “seeing Jesus” as the early apostles had it. And while we might say that Jesus is with us in Spirit, this is not what Jesus is offering to his disciples. In addition to the Spirit, he says that the objective, historical event of the resurrection will resolve many of their doubts. Evangelicals might say that we possess the Scriptures (which were unavailable to the apostles) and that these should supply renewed confidence. But would Jesus expect the generations that follow the apostles to be satisfied without seeing him? It is interesting that in 20:29 Jesus offers a special blessing on us in this circumstance when he speaks to Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” What then is the basis of our confidence?
Life in the world. All along we have listened to Jesus talk about the reality of life in the world. He has not been subtle. “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first” (15:18). John uses the term world eighty times, and fully one-third of these describe the world as a place of unbelief and conflict. Yet Jesus also says that he has overcome the world (16:33) and that Christians who live in the world should have peace and joy (16:20, 33).
This produces a theological tension that has led to numerous mistaken spiritualities. In a word, how do I combine the victory of Jesus and the trouble of the world? Is it a sin or a failure of faith to admit to suffering and despair in the world? To admit to illness? Does this deny the victory of Jesus? For others is the acceptance of struggle and spiritual battle—to acknowledge the world in all its power—a concession that has no place for Christ as victor? Where is the power of God when the power of the world sometimes seems so overwhelming and we feel defeated?
Contemporary Significance
AT LEAST FOUR areas of current application are possible in this chapter. True, there are other themes embedded here, such as the promise of efficacious prayer in 16:23 or the implied Trinitarian relationships, but most of these have been discussed in earlier sections (since 13:31).
The conviction of the world. The presupposition of the convicting work of the Holy Spirit is a courageous belief in the spiritual, moral, and intellectual bankruptcy of the world. The problem with most of us is that we have adapted to the world so successfully that we no longer truly believe that its systems of belief, life, and thought are wrong. Like the proverbial frog slowly cooked in a warming pot of water, we don’t realize our jeopardy till it is too late.
In his Farewell Discourse, Jesus provides two promises regarding the Spirit and the world. In chapter 15, he describes the hostility of the world and promises that the Spirit will come as a ready aid to strengthen the witness of the church (15:26). However, in chapter 16, it is not the defensive posture of the church that is at issue but the offensive efforts of Christians. That is, in 16:8–11 the Spirit works to prosecute the moral and spiritual catastrophe of the world in which we live.25
There is a brilliant image that C. S. Lewis provides in his well-known space trilogy. The hero of the series is Ransom, a university philologist who accidentally finds himself on a spaceship headed to Mars. There he witnesses the attempted corruption of the planet by two diabolical humans (who are a “bent” species, the Martians say), and he also learns about the true nature of the universe. He meets Eldils, for instance, who are spirit-beings serving The Great Spirit who made the universe. Each planet has its own chief Eldil, and in due course he meets these “gods” of Mars and Venus, who have kept their planets (and their residents) from falling into sin. Earth, on the other hand, is “the Silent Planet,” for in it darkness reigns. The point of the series is Lewis’s exploration into the nature of human fallenness, and after Ransom explores Mars and Venus in the first two books, in the third volume he finds himself on Earth, confronting the darkness, the wretchedness of the “world.” The divine forces of the universe have decided that the evil of Earth must be extinguished before its corruptions spill over into other spheres.
One evening for the first time Eldils from deep heaven begin their descent and siege of Earth. Suddenly they appear in dazzling brightness in Ransom’s quarters. They are like shining pillars of light, powerful and dangerous, spinning at a speed he cannot fathom. But the important part lies here: They are not exactly vertical columns but seem to stand about ten degrees off. The impression Ransom has, however, is not that they are “off 10 degrees” but that they are in fact connected to “true vertical” and that the entire world is “off 10 degrees.” For the first time Ransom sees “true vertical,” and it makes the entire world seem irregular. Forever Ransom knows that the floor is not quite level.
In one of the most creative portrayals of human wretchedness and fallenness I have read, Lewis builds a portrait of human depravity that is stunning. The books are a rebuke: We need to be reminded that the sin of the world should stun us, but it does not.
One mission of the church, therefore, is to be the one voice that holds an honest assessment of the world, that speaks of the way it twists the meaning of sin, righteousness, and judgment, and that describes boldly its absence of justice and compassion and its failure to promote true virtue in the fear of God. The church’s testimony should uncover “true vertical” so that the world can see how it has skewed our reality. This is the courageous testimony that the Spirit seeks to engage and empower.
“In the name of God! We know not what we should say to this. . . . Against the ungodliness and unrighteousness of men there is revealed the wrath of God.”26 These are some of the opening words furiously penned by Karl Barth in his Romans commentary on Romans 1:18–21, Paul’s indictment of the world that Jesus describes in John 16. As Lewis wrote following the horror of World War II, Barth wrote at the close of World War I—and both men loathed what they saw when they looked into the heart of humanity. It is not just that individuals have a propensity to sin, but that corruption is universal and unavoidable and that whole systems of life have been built to sustain a darkness the world calls light, to keep in place injustices that only the world calls fair.
Therefore the mandate of John 16:8–11 is for us—in prayer, guided by the Holy Spirit, listening for the voice of Christ—to identify and diagnose the true nerve-system of this world in our own generation. “The prince of this world now stands condemned” (16:11b)—which means that the moral and spiritual struggle is not only about sinful humans, but about humans whose communities and organizations, governments and politics have been manipulated by Satan. To diagnose the injustice, say, of racially discriminatory programs becomes spiritual warfare. To unmask the dishonesty or deviousness of political systems that sustain suffering and anguish around the globe or around the corner is spiritual warfare too.
Sometimes such activity will be labeled as unpatriotic (when we name political or military evil) or antisocial (when we identify the key players in evil deeds). But true vertical, once seen, demands that all floors be straightened and leveled. All floors! Every floor in this world, because each one has been bent by the world on which it rests.
If the church talks about the Holy Spirit only in terms of the emotional healing it may bring or the praise and worship it may generate, the church has missed part of the Spirit’s work. Charismatic gifts, healings, and signs and wonders are only part of the Spirit’s mission. The Spirit is also engaged in the prosecution of the world. The Spirit is likewise about battle and struggle and winning so that the kingdom of God described by Jesus will begin to emerge like a mustard seed, whose shrub stands visibly on the landscape (Matt. 13:31–32).
The Spirit and revelation. The book of Acts records a remarkable story in chapters 10–11, which we often refer to as the conversion of Cornelius, but I think of it as the conversion of Peter. It was not missionary passion or liberal theological views that led Peter to travel from Jewish Joppa to Gentile Caesarea in order to convert the Roman military centurion. Lesslie Newbigin writes:
It was the Spirit that put him there, and it was the Spirit that shattered all of Peter’s strongest religious certainties by giving to Cornelius and his household exactly the same experience of deliverance and joy as the apostles themselves had received. In the presence of that fait accompli Peter, and—later—the whole church, had simply to follow where they were led.27
Peter was forcefully directed by the Spirit to move into new theological territory that must have seemed completely uncertain. This is what Jesus describes in John 16:12–14. The Spirit will be “the Spirit of truth,” guiding his followers into all truth, which they could not then bear to hear but which Jesus no doubt wanted to tell them later.
Here is the heart of the question: Does the Spirit simply lead each generation to apply the truths of Jesus in new ways? Certainly this is true. But does the Spirit also lead into new territory, new doctrines, and new activities unknown in Jesus’ historical ministry? In the present example, one could argue that Peter’s mention of clean and unclean in Acts 10:14 may echo Matthew 15:11 (Mark 7:19; cf. Rom. 14:14), where Jesus redefines “unclean” with new parameters. The Spirit has simply pressed the apostles to apply this truth in an unexpected way. But others have argued that the conversion of a Gentile was something wholly unexpected. To cross a racial and cultural frontier is something Jesus did not predict and only now does the Spirit disclose it.28
John is the only Gospel that gives us some idea of the relationship between the Spirit and interpretation. John is fully aware that the deeper meaning of Jesus’ words only came once he had been glorified and the apostles had experienced the Holy Spirit. In two places John specifically states that the plain meaning of Jesus’ words remained veiled in their original setting and that it was only after Jesus’ glorification (with its attendant gift of the Spirit) that true understanding came (2:22; 12:16). This is what Jesus means in 16:25 when he points to a time when plain speech will disclose the exact meaning of his words. Veiled revelation will be gone; clarity of spiritual insight will be an apostolic gift.
We can extend this perspective to John’s overall effort to “write up” the story of Jesus’ life in the Gospel itself. It was the Spirit that recalled to his mind the things Jesus had said and done (14:26), and it was the Spirit that led him into “all truth,” probing beneath the surface of Jesus’ mission. This also explains John’s use of irony and “misunderstanding” as a motif in the Gospel: Jesus’ audience misunderstood his purposes at many points, and it was only with the gift of the Spirit that his followers could really see his meaning.
Therefore in the first instance the work of the Spirit brings a Spirit-directed illumination as we interpret the Bible. This is God’s Word, which now God’s Spirit opens for us. With Calvin and a host of Protestant interpreters, the “all truth” of 16:13 refers to Scripture, opened and examined with divine guidance.29
But this explanation of 16:12–14 is inadequate if it is all we say about the Spirit and revelation. Jesus says that the Spirit will unveil things they have not heard. Such an understanding, of course, has led to countless abuses over the centuries as self-appointed teachers and new-age prophets have laid claim to the Spirit’s authority as they unveiled new, unbiblical teachings. These abuses have made modern exegetes understandably cautious about such ongoing revelation, and some of them claim that we are doing nothing more than pressing modern issues of church life on John’s ancient text.30 But this is not the case.
The best evidence for the view that John’s followers understood the Spirit to have ongoing revelatory power can be seen in the abuses John had to combat in his first letter.31 Since many false prophets have gone out into the world, John’s followers need to start testing the spirits to see if they belong to God (1 John 4:1). John does not disqualify the spiritual endowment in his argument with these teachers; he calls for the testing of the gift. The problem arises from false teachers exploiting a prophetic understanding of the Spirit, who now are leading the church into false doctrines. Here John gives strict guidelines: “This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God: Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, but every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus is not from God” (1 John 4:2–3). This is the same test Jesus outlines in John 16:14–15. The Spirit will glorify Jesus and not depart from what he has revealed already. To refuse to glorify Jesus is to invalidate one’s prophetic voice.
Therefore, as we look at the work of the Spirit today, we see that not only does the Spirit recall, authenticate, and enliven the teaching of Jesus for each generation, but also the Spirit works creatively in the church, bringing a new prophetic word.32 This word never contradicts the historic word of Jesus and never deflects glory away from Jesus, but it may faithfully bring the church to see its message and mission in a new way. The “all truth” of 16:13 may be something unexpected, some new frontier (like a modern Gentile Caesarea), or some new work Jesus desires to do in the present time. The task of the church and its leadership is to discern with great care what that work might be.
To restrict the Spirit’s voice to the work of historic recitation, that is, to the application of the biblical text, is to restrict the Spirit’s effort to speak to contemporary issues. It is interesting that in Paul’s writing, he lists prophets and teachers in the second and third places of authority after apostles (1 Cor. 12:28). In Acts 13:1 prophets and teachers led the church at Antioch where there were no apostles. The Spirit both equips those who guide the church into the deeper meaning of Scripture (teachers) and those who have a contemporary word, a dynamic word for the church in its world today (prophets).
Resurrection and resolution. Running through John 16 is Jesus’ repeated assurance that “in a little while” his disciples will see him again. As I argued above, this “seeing” points to the resurrection, for “seeing the Lord” becomes a watchword on Easter for having encountered the resurrected, glorified Jesus. The importance of this is even underscored in 1 John 1:1–3:
That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. (italics added)
There is no doubt that for John the concrete visual encounter he had with the resurrected Jesus was foundational to his testimony. This “seeing” was not simply a metaphor, as if now in his faith, belief in resurrection “dawned” on him. This Jesus is someone seen and “touched”; this is an objective anchor that he refers to with great relish throughout his letter (1 John 1:1, 3; 3:2, 6; 4:1, 12, 14, 20; 5:16; 3 John 1:11). These verses in 1 John link up with John’s repeated reference to “that which was from the beginning” (1:1; 2:7, 13–14, 24; 3:11; 2 John 1:5), which reminds his followers that the strongest argument for the truth of Jesus was found on Easter morning. The resurrection validated Jesus’ truth claims about himself and forced the apostolic leaders to look back on his earthly life and reflect more deeply (with the aid of the Spirit) on the meaning of these events.
Paul follows this same tack in 1 Corinthians 15. The truth about his faith is not to be found merely in self-validating spiritual experiences, but also in the reality of resurrection from the dead. “If Christ has not been raised then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain” (15:14).
For the earliest Christians, Jesus’ resurrection was the starting point for evangelism and proclamation. “This [Jesus] . . . you . . . put to death by nailing him to the cross. . . . But God raised him from the dead” (Acts 2:23–24). These words of Peter on Pentecost become the turning point in sermon after sermon in Acts (see Acts 4:10; 5:30; 10:40; 13:30, 34, 37; 26:8). The same should be true of our proclamation. The resurrection of Christ should be the bold, unflinching word we possess for the world. Jesus knows what this moment will mean for his followers. “You will rejoice,” he says (John 16:22). “Your grief will turn to joy” (16:20). No doubt, Easter was the catalyst for the apostolic faith, and it inspired much of the reflection we read in the New Testament today.
But what about us today? We do not live in an era that can await such a moment of resurrection. The “little while” of chapter 16 is now long past. The resurrection of Jesus in Jerusalem is not a personal experience to which we can point, but instead has become a solid doctrinal position that we hold with fervor. I envy the Easter experience of John, Peter, James, and the other disciples. And I would wish that the blessing pronounced by Jesus in 20:29, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed,” did not belong to me and my generation. We live with spiritual imperfection and incompleteness, not unlike the disciples as they awaited Easter. Paul’s candid admission is that our vision is opaque, like looking through a dark glass or an ancient mirror (1 Cor. 13:12). We yearn for the day when we will see “face to face” (13:12b) and discover that all our questions have disappeared (John 16:23a).
This is perhaps where an application of John 16 requires that we understand clearly that Jesus participates in four episodes of self-revelation. (1) There was Jesus’ earthly ministry, which was filled with ambiguity for his followers. (2) His resurrection provided the confirmation and clarity they yearned to experience. (3) Jesus promised the Spirit, who would serve as his personal, indwelling presence during his absence. (4) We await his glorious second coming, when we once more will see him again.
Our experience (episode 3) is similar to that of the disciples (episode 1) inasmuch as we struggle to understand and yearn for perfect clarity. But we have one sterling advantage: We possess the Spirit, who gives us insight and understanding inaccessible even to the apostles. Jesus’ resurrection was the disciples’ ultimate confirming experience, and while we can only point back to it (as a confirmation of their authority), we must point forward to Christ’s return. That is, the Second Coming serves the church much the same way that the resurrection served the apostles.
In theological language, this is tension between the “already” and the “not yet” of the kingdom of God. We are interim citizens. We live in the kingdom that has been inaugurated by Christ, yet we yearn for that kingdom’s final consummation at the end of time. The history of Jesus (his miracles, his parables, his empty tomb) must join with our experience of Jesus (his lordship, his indwelling Spirit) to form a confident discipleship that remains faithful as it awaits the fulfillment of his promise to return, when we will “see” him again (cf. 1 John 3:2).
“In the world you have trouble.” There is a misunderstanding afoot that pertains to Jesus’ final words in 16:33: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”33 Does this mean that the “peace” of Jesus enables us to escape the ills of life, as so many popular preachers today claim? Does faith in Jesus automatically solve all our problems?
I have just suggested that we are interim citizens of the kingdom, looking back to the resurrection and forward to the Second Coming—equipped by the Holy Spirit and eager to see Jesus as his apostles did. In this interim citizenship we need to understand fully what will be the character of our lives. For some interpreters, possessing the “victory of Jesus” means being exempt from tragedy, conflict, poverty, struggle, and disillusionment.
It is curious that Jesus here speaks of peace and trouble in the same breath. This forces us to carefully define what this peace really is. One sort of peace means the absence of all enemies; the other is freedom from anxiety while struggling with enemies. Who could not be at peace when there is no trouble? But it is the latter notion, peace within the storm, that Jesus has in mind. Donald Miller illustrates:
It is not noteworthy, for example, for a housewife to be at peace about her housework if she happens to have no children, little company, every modern convenience, and servants to do her menial tasks. It is astonishing, however, when a mother of five children, many visiting relatives, few conveniences, and no servants can work without excitement, without fretting, without worry, moving majestically through the confusion of her overburdened days with poise and dignity.
This type of peace—serenity in the midst of confusion—is superior to the “easier” peace because it abides while conquering obstacles rather than avoiding them.34
Therefore it is essential that we keep in mind that peace and trouble do not negate one another. The peace of Jesus is a condition that takes the uncertainties and struggles of this world seriously, but like a seagull riding the surface of a turbulent sea, is able to climb swells and drop into valleys without worry.
We have seen again and again in this Gospel that the world is a place of genuine hostility to the things of God. For a disciple to live in it is necessarily to experience struggle, conflict, even battle. Its values, its vision, its morals, its pagan religious instincts—these are all inimical to the God of the Bible. In this sense, Christian discipleship is nothing short of a call to warfare. Again, permit me to quote Miller:
As long as a Christian is in the world he will be pressed as though by a great mob; he will be crushed in spirit as though great crushing weights were lying on his chest; he will know spiritual anguish like that of a mother in labor. This, Jesus has told us. When he speaks, therefore, of peace, it is not the peace of unruffled days but the inner confidence of the warrior who is weary, thirsty, outnumbered, and wounded, but who fights bravely on, confident of the outcome, assured of victory. We are saved not from trouble; we are saved in trouble.35
In the reality of this sort of world, Jesus says “Take heart” (16:33b). The Greek verb used here is the same one Jesus used for his men in the boat during the Galilee storm (Mark 6:50). More accurately, it means to “have courage.” It means taking stock of the circumstances and still prevailing. But the basis of this encouragement is important in the balance of the verse. Jesus does not say, “Have courage—you will overcome the world.” The Greek sentence structure is emphatic: “Have courage—I have overcome the world.”
If Jesus had said, “Have courage, I have overcome the world—and you can too,” there would be little good news for us. If a golf master nearly drives on the green from every tee and says to you, “Have courage, I did it! You can do it too!” there is no encouragement here. If the superior student performs perfectly on an exam and says to a less-gifted friend, “Cheer up! I did well, so can you!” such counsel only brings a sharper sense of hopelessness.
If Jesus was simply one heroic man who achieved a superior life, if he was simply a stellar example of what we hoped to be, then he has little value for us. We have tried to overcome the world, but we have failed. Jesus’ example of superior humanity simply makes my inferiority more unbearable.
But if Jesus is more than a human; if he is indeed the Son of God who overcame the world not simply for his own sake, but for our sake as well—for all of humanity; if his victory in his life can become a victory that we enjoy, a victory extended to us when we embrace him in faith, then his triumph can become our triumph. He thus offers us genuinely good news, “Have courage! I have faced your enemy and vanquished him. I have fought your battle on the battleground of human experience where you must fight. I have routed the foe. You can never do it; but I have done it and I can do it again in you. Abide in me and my victory is yours.”36
This is the great departure of Christianity from every other religious faith. It does not simply set out an ideal or a moral code; it offers a means of achieving it. Christianity is the offer of God to live in his followers and achieve in them the victory demonstrated in his Son Jesus Christ. And in that indwelling, an indescribable peace will be ours despite the fury and foment of the world around us.