John 1–19

The opening words of this verse carry us back as far as our minds can reach. They take us to the moment when the first thing that ever had a beginning began. Before that moment there was only God. In that moment of "beginning" the Word "was," that is, existed. He did not begin then; He existed then.

You cannot pick out any moment in eternity, before the work of creation began, when He was not there. He was already there "in the beginning." … "In the beginning God created," and so on, begins time; "In the beginning the Word was," leaves the door open for the eternal.

As the Word, He represents the whole mind and thoughts and ways of God. He does this in His own Person, and by what He says and does. Whenever God's thoughts and plans and will have to be revealed, He is the One who reveals them.

As the Word He is, and He is the expression of the whole mind of God; but as the Son, the eternal Son, He is, in incarnation, the revealer of the Father.

In the beginning, then, before there was any creature, was the Word, and the Word was with God. So there was distinct personality in the Godhead, and the Word was a distinct Person Himself. He was not, as men imagined, something that flowed out from God in time, even though He is eternal and divine in nature. … The personality was as eternal as the existence.

We learn … that the Word Who became flesh was not an abstract quality or attribute in the beginning. He was not a special outflow of the Deity either. He was a Person existing with God. More than that, this Word was God Himself. … We do not read God was the Word, but the Word was God.

Some have tried to weaken the force of this great statement. They translate it "the Word was Divine," or "the Word was a god," because the text leaves out the definite article — it does not say, "the Word was the God." But those who know Greek tell us that Greek has no indefinite article at all. The word translated "God" is a strong one, and it means proper and absolute Deity. If the text had said the Word was the God, it would have shut Deity up to the Word alone and shut out the other Persons of the Godhead.

After He took a servant's form, the Lord used certain language about Himself, and certain terms fit Him once He had become a Man. But it would be quite wrong to think that He held a lower place in Deity before He came. This last clause in our verse destroys any idea of a lower place in the Godhead. "The Word was God"; and God cannot be inferior to God.

To guard the divine glory of the Son, the Spirit of God adds, "The Word was God." The Son has become Man, and God has made sure His word protects that glory. No one can use His coming down so low as an excuse to deny it.

This is no mere repetition of the fact already stated that He was a distinct Person with God. Here we learn the additional truth that He was eternally a distinct Person. So carefully the Spirit of God guards the glory of His Person. He guards it against those who admit that He is a distinct Person, yet claim there was a time when He began to have a distinct Personal existence.

The distinct Personality that marks the Word is not something He took on at a later point in time. Eternal Personality was His. In the beginning He was "with God" in this way, because this distinction of Personality lies in the very essence of the Godhead. So four things have now been said about the Word. His eternal Being; His distinct Personality; His essential Deity; His eternal Personality. Whatever else we may have to learn about the Word, here are four things that should bow us in humble worship.

It does not matter how far you try to go back in thought into the depths of eternity. Imagine millions of years! Even that is not the beginning — though of course we cannot really talk about "years" before there were any measures of time. But go back in imagination into these unmeasured depths, and there He existed. He Who is eternal had no beginning, and in His own personality He was "with God."

"The same was in the beginning with God" (verse 2); not at a subsequent date, but "in the beginning," when no creature had commenced its existence. For this truth we are entirely indebted to God. Who could speak of such things but God? It is He Who uses John to write, and all He says is worthy of implicit faith. The Word "was in the beginning with God." His personality was eternal, no less than His nature or being.

If the evangelist had written "the Word was in God," our foolish minds might have thought this. Levi was still in his ancestor Abraham's body when Melchizedek met him (Heb. 7), and only came into actual being later. In the same way, our Lord, the Son, the Word, might have received separate being only at a date in eternity. But the Holy Spirit is too jealous for His glory and too exact in His words to allow this mistaken idea… There never was a time, however far back, when the Word was not with God. He was always distinct from the Father as the Father, and from the Holy Spirit as the Holy Spirit. Yet there is no suggestion of a second Godhead, for though distinct in personality, He was with God.

There seems to be more meaning in pros ton Theon ("with God") than simply being near, which para Theo would express… There is an element included in this word pros, and communicative association. It stood there in the presence of, and associated (vitally) with God. Also "in the beginning" means He existed before time. We find Him in essential, eternal existence. Everything else had a beginning, a cause commencing it, but He "was in the beginning."

Notice also that it says "the Word was with God" — not the Father. The name God includes not only the Father but also the Holy Spirit and the Son. The names Word and God speak of the nature of divine Persons. The names Father and Son tell of the relationships between divine Persons. The great aim of these verses is to establish the glory of Christ as in nature a divine Person.

I can only see John 1:2 as a striking and complete setting aside of the distinction drawn in Alexandria and by the early church fathers between logos endiathetos and logos prophorikos. Some of the earlier Greek fathers had been infected with the ideas of Plato. They held that the logos was conceived in God's mind from eternity, and only spoken out, as it were, in time. This gave a foothold to the Arians, who, like other unbelievers, grab at human traditions. The apostle here asserts, in the Holy Ghost, the eternal personality of the Word with God.

The language is exact. He was in the beginning with God. John does not use egeneto ("became"), which would mean coming into being or being caused to be. He uses ēn: He "was", in His own absolute being. All things egeneto, "came into being" through Him. He was the Creator so completely that John adds, "and without Him not one thing came into being which has come into being." By contrast, verse 14 states the incarnation like this: the Word was made flesh — not ēn but egeneto.

Nothing can go wider than the words "All things." In Colossians 1, creation is credited to the Son of the Father's love: it first says that all things were created by Him, then it names particular things, the things in heaven and the things on earth (verse 16). But in John nothing is left out. The eternal Word made all things that have been made. And as if to close the door on the heartless quibbling of human reason, the Spirit of God adds, "and without Him was not any thing made that was made."

This shows that there was absolutely no exception as to creation. If Christ had been created, He would have been a notable exception. Surely the One who creates is the Creator, and the Creator is God.

The title "the Word" means that He — and He is a Person — expresses the Divine Being, just as our words or acts express our minds. For He is not only "the Word" because of what He has said, He is also "the Word" because of what He has done. By His acts in creating He expressed the power and mind of the invisible God. The Divine Being willed how created things should be — their form, their arrangement, their number, and their growth too, where there is life, whether animal or plant. All of it came from Him who is "the Word."

The things that are made can show His eternal power and divine nature. But other unseen things about Him — His counsels and grace, and glory in the Son — nothing that was made can teach us. They come by revelation.

Everything that was made came about according to the Father's sovereign will. But the Son, the Word of God, was the person who put forth the power. And never without the energy of the Holy Spirit, I may add, as the Bible teaches us. This matters greatly for what the Holy Spirit has in view in the Gospel of John. His object is to bear witness to the nature and light of God in the person of Christ.

He was the originator, the designer and the maker of the vast universe and every creature within it… How wonderfully these simple yet great statements clear the air for us. We need not waste our time and weary our brains hunting in vain for some missing link. That search only props up a groundless theory, put forward by people who want to banish the Creator from His creation. We begin with the truth that the Word has made all things, that He upholds all things, and will one day make all things serve His glory.

"In Him was life" — life that no one gave Him, life that is His own by nature, life with no beginning. "He is the true God and eternal life" (1 John 5:20). He is the Fountain of life. He is the Source of life.

Life was always in Him, the Word. There was never a time when He did not exist — "in the beginning was the Word." So there was never a time when life was not in Him. Who could imagine the Word — the One who expresses God — without life?

He made all creation, but creation does not exist in Him. In Him was life, and in this He stood in relation to one special part of creation — the part God had in His thoughts and purposes. This life was the light of men. It showed itself as a witness to the divine nature, in direct connection with men, as it did with no other creatures at all.

Many take life here in the widest sense, "the Word being the Source of all life to the creature." But everyone admits that the last part of the verse can only mean spiritual life. How could such life be put in the same class as the life of a plant or an animal? Or be said to be in Him? … Life in Him, the Eternal One, is surely eternal life… Only the eternal life could be the light of men.

Angels were not its sphere, and it was not limited to one chosen nation: "the life was the light of men." Life was not in man, even before he fell. At best, the first man, Adam, became a living soul when God breathed into him. And it is never said, even of a believer, that life is or was in him, though he does have life. He has it only in the Son.

Life was in Him as part of His very being. The words "In Him was life" (John 1:4) belong with His eternal existence… We have it only as something passed on to us. Only life that is held in one's own right, as part of one's own being, can be given to others.

This life was the light of men. The Lord can say, "Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (John 8:12). The life in the Word was the perfect revelation to man of the invisible God. The light of nature will not reveal the heart of God. The light of reason cannot find out God by searching. It is only the light of the life in the Word become flesh that can declare God.

"The life was the light of men." The statement works both ways: nothing else was the light of men. This was the true light. The "light within" is not that, but the power of darkness in the human soul.

For man there is no spiritual light apart from this life. Without it he is in darkness, and walks in darkness (1 John 2:11).

The very beginning of all God's ways of grace with us has been the giving of divine life, along with the nature that cannot be separated from it. Precious truth! We see these two things, life and light, bound up together. Wherever there is life in a soul, there is light.

Here I come to the judgment of the world, and of "His own." "The light shines in darkness." In nature that is impossible. If light shone into darkness there, no darkness would be left for it to shine in. The judgment of the world follows, for "the darkness did not take it in." Notice also that "the light shines in darkness" is a general statement. He does not say "shone."

When the Word appeared, the light shone. But the scene He came into was one of darkness. In Genesis 1 we read how by the divine word the light of creation burst upon the darkness; and the darkness vanished. Here we have light of a far higher order. It shines in the middle of moral and spiritual darkness. Only grasping the light could clear that darkness away, and men did not grasp it. Yet though the darkness remained, there was no other light for men than "the life."

But men were in fact in a fallen condition, far from God. So the verse hints at a darkness worse than the gloom that covered the deep before the six days of creation began.

Some ancient religions called darkness the mother of all things, or an evil god locked in endless war with the good Lord of light. It is neither. It is the moral condition of fallen man. It is the absence of light, and quite different from physical darkness, because light itself has no effect on it. Grace alone can deal with the difficulty.

Man was not light. He was darkness, without any glimmer of the nature of God. More than that, he had no power to receive this light. His whole nature stood against it. They saw no beauty in Him to desire Him. Here was the display of the divine nature itself, and nothing could go further than that. In the natural world, where there is light there is no more darkness. In the moral world it is not so. The light is there, pure in itself and showing up everything. Yet no one sees who is there.

Anyone with eyes to see and a heart to understand can tell that the world is in darkness, that is, in ignorance of God. And the world has only itself to blame, for the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not take it in (John 1:5). This is not because men cannot see the light that shines. It is because they will not, for "people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil" (John 3:19). They stay in the darkness by choice, and so they lie under condemnation.

Light finally triumphs and darkness passes away. The process that will reach that happy end is going on now. "The darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining" (1 John 2:8).

The first change is from "was made" to "became." The same Greek verb appears five times in the same form in verses 1 to 14 of this chapter. … There was (became) a man sent from God. The world was made (became) by Him. "The Word became flesh."

He was a man sent from God. … A man sent from God was what he was. Being a man on a mission from God was what described him.

Men must be stirred to look at it. That takes the voice of someone nearer to them, more on their level and easier to understand, echoing the voice of conscience in their hearts. Such indeed was the "man sent from God, whose name was John." … What a sign of a world far away from God! The Light must have someone to proclaim it. The Creator must have someone to introduce Him into His own world. And then it is necessary to say, "He was not that light," in case men mistake the witness to Christ for the Christ he witnessed to!

God, who is Love, was active in His goodness to draw attention to the Light, because man's need was deep. … His mission here relates to the Light, not to the law or any legal purpose. So its scope goes far beyond Israel. He came to witness concerning the Light, so that all might believe through him. It is a question of personal faith in the Saviour. It is not merely moral advice for the crowd, tax collectors, soldiers, or anyone else, as in the Gospel of Luke.

Not only does God give the light, but He sends a forerunner to call man's attention to the light. No details are given of John the Baptist's connection with the Jew or things earthly. Here he is viewed as "sent from God," and as a witness to that which is entirely new — the Light.

The moon which shines in the night bears its witness to its lord, the sun. It has no light in itself, but as it catches the light of the sun it sheds it on the earth. So it was with John. His soul was enlightened by the glory of the One who was coming after him, and of Him he spoke. His was a great mission. He came from God — that was the source of his mission. He spoke of Christ — that was the object of his mission. His disciples who heard him speak followed Jesus — that was the result of his mission.

The Holy Spirit introduces a man on the scene whose mission set him apart from all other men — "There was a man sent from God, whose name was John." Then He describes him by a negative sign — "He was not that Light." Think what the personal worth of this man must have been, for the Holy Spirit to declare that he was not what God Himself is in His essence! … As a lamp, he shone so brightly that his coming brought almost as much joy as the morning star brings. … Except Christ, there was never anyone in this world greater than he.

Do you not think it is a wonderful thing that God should send a person to bear witness about light? reason placeholder — "What is it, man?" the people would say. "Look," he says, "there is the sun, and light coming from the sun," and he keeps on saying it. Why, you would think the fellow had gone out of his mind.

God sent him, a witness to bear witness concerning the truth, that all might believe through him. What a sign this is of a world far away from God! The Light must have someone to proclaim it. The Creator must have someone to introduce Him into His own world. And then it is necessary to say, "He was not that light" — in case men mistake the witness to Christ for the Christ he witnessed to!

No details are given of John the Baptist's connection with the Jew or things earthly. Here he is viewed as "sent from God," and as a witness to that which is entirely new — the Light. In other gospels he witnesses to the King and His kingdom for repentant Israel: here he witnesses to the Light for all people.

His mission is seen here in relation to the Light, not to the law or any legal purpose. So its reach goes far beyond Israel. He came to witness about the Light, so that all might believe through him. The point is personal faith in the Saviour. It is not just moral advice to the crowds, tax collectors, soldiers, or anyone else, as in the Gospel of Luke.

Was not the object of John the Baptist's mission "that all might believe through him"? Does that mean the actual effect of his mission would be that all men would believe in Christ? Did the command to John to go on this errand carry a promise that he would succeed? No one imagines this for a moment. God sent him to give adequate ground for faith, and the chance to believe, to everyone his mission actually reached.

He was a burning and shining light, but he was not the Light. The moon that shines in the night bears its witness to its lord, the sun. It has no light in itself, but as it catches the light of the sun it sheds it on the earth. So it was with John. His soul was enlightened by the glory of the One who was coming after him, and of Him he spoke. His was a great mission. He came from God: that was the source of his mission. He spoke of Christ: that was the object of his mission. His disciples who heard him speak followed Jesus: that was the result of his mission.

God, who is Love, was active in His goodness to draw attention to the Light, for man's need was deep. So there was a man sent from Him — his name John. As we are told elsewhere, he was the burning and shining lamp (ho luchnos); but the Word was the Light (to phos) about whom he came to bear witness. Here his mission stands in relation to the Light, not to the law or any legal purpose. So its scope reaches far beyond Israel. He came to bear witness about the Light, so that all might believe through him. It is a question of personal faith in the Saviour.

Men needed rousing to see it. The voice that roused them came from one nearer to them, more on their level, easier for them to understand, echoing the voice of conscience in their hearts. Such was the "man sent from God, whose name was John." … What proof that the world was far from God — the Light had to have someone to announce it, and the Creator had to have someone to introduce Him into His own world! And then it becomes necessary to say, "He was not the light," in case men should mistake the witness to Christ for the Christ he witnessed to!

The moon which shines in the night bears its witness to its lord, the sun. It has no light in itself, but as it catches the light of the sun it sheds it upon the earth. So it was with John. His soul was enlightened by the glory of the One who was coming after him, and of Him he spoke. His was a great mission. He came from God — that was the source of his mission. He spoke of Christ — that was the object of his mission. His disciples who heard him speak followed Jesus — that was the result of his mission.

Who is this man? He has no human credentials, no authority from either Jews or Romans, no advertising, no public display. John's answer is short: "I am not the Christ." He had no interest in talking about himself. What did it matter who he was? He was not the one Man of importance. Christ was the burden of his testimony, not himself.

God had shown John the Baptist great favour, as a man and a prophet. The Lord's own testimony about him was remarkable: "Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist." But John's greatness was relative, not absolute; official, not personal. He was a light-bearer (John 5:35), but not the Light itself, though he bore witness to the Light. He still stood first among all the prophets and messengers of God since the world began, because he alone saw his own predictions about the Messiah come true. As the great forerunner, he could point to One standing in front of him and say, "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" Yet, the Lord added, "the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he."

John contemplated Him as He walked, and he wanted his disciples occupied with Him. It did not matter to John if his disciples turned away from him, so long as they followed Jesus. … This is the effect of all true ministry. The eye is directed to Him alone, and the heart is engaged with Him only. A ministry that has its power in the flesh draws the hearer after the minister. … John preached his congregations away from himself, and he did not turn them to the Pharisees, lawyers or scribes — he turned them to the Son of God.

John's Gospel uses this word four times, besides the phrase "the true worshippers." There is the true Light (John 1:9), the true Bread (John 6:32), the true Vine (John 15:1), and the true God (John 17:3). In each case the word means the substance, not the shadow. It means the final thing, not the temporary one. It means the whole thing, not the part.

He was the immediate forerunner of the Lord Jesus. He would not have been named here otherwise. He was the moon that took its light from the sun — from the Lord Jesus, who was about to come. His light was only borrowed... He might be a burning and shining lamp, but his light was only earthly and borrowed.

The phrase "coming into the world," and other phrases like it, appear very often in the New Testament, and they are used of the Messiah. In fact, John 3:19 uses the expression of Him in this very same connection, as the light: "the light has come into the world"... And again in John 12:46, "I have come into the world as light."

This has nothing to do with the conversion of men... the outward lighting up of men. Do not talk of "inner light," or anything like it. Instead, wonder at the presence of the Son of God on earth, in the middle of the darkness all around. See everything lit up by that presence, even though the darkness did not grasp the light.

The Lord Jesus Christ showed up everybody. He was the Test of everything and everybody. Think of the treachery of Judas. Think of the Pharisee, and of the woman, who came into the Pharisee's house. The light showed up the heart of the Pharisee, and it also showed up the heart of the woman. The Pharisee's heart was cold and dead. The woman's was repentant and loving. Their relation to Him showed up where each one was.

The Word, that is, Jesus, is the true light. Coming into the world (this is the only right way to translate it), He pours light on every man. It is not limited like the law to Israel. It shines on Gentile as well as Jew... it reveals the true state of each one, completely and at once. No prince stands above its searching power, and no slave, however low, stands beneath it.

The Light had a twofold effect: it exposed man, but revealed God... He did not simply open blind eyes to relieve blindness, but to make known the love of God in relation to man's need. Light is the revelation of God in love according to the full truth of man's condition and God's holiness.

The Apostle John often mentions the world in his writings. He always uses a word we have taken into English when we speak of the "cosmos." It means the universe as an ordered whole, or sometimes, in a more restricted sense, just our world as an ordered whole. That is the sense of the world in this verse. As Creator He had made the universe as an ordered whole, and a wonderful moment arrived when He was found in that cosmos in a special way. He was there by entering this smaller restricted cosmos. Sad to say, it had become perverted and alienated by sin — so perverted that it did not even know Him.

John at the beginning of his Gospel makes the distinction between the world in a material sense and in a moral sense... He came into the world that He Himself had made, but the world that man had made did not know Him. In the material world, He found a moral world, a world of spiritual darkness.

"He was in the world, and the world was made through him." The world therefore surely ought to have known its Maker. But no — "the world did not know him." From the very first, man, being a sinner, was wholly lost. Here the unlimited scene is in view; not Israel, but the world.

The world did not know its Creator when He came into it. The elements owned Him, for the winds and the waves obeyed His command, and the fish of the sea knew His voice. It was man, made in the image and likeness of God, who did not recognise Him and did not obey Him.

In Jesus God was perfectly declared. He was presented before the eyes of men by works of power, mercy, and grace. But "He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, yet the world did not know Him." ... Not only that, but judging Him to be a criminal, they put Him to a shameful death on a cross. And it was the princes, or leaders, of the world who did it. It was the head, the brains, of the world; not the thoughtless crowd. "The world did not know God through wisdom."

What infinite and loving condescension! He, the eternal Word, the true Light, was in the world — the very world that receives its being from Him! How dense its ignorance that the world did not know Him, its Creator! But He had one place on earth which He was pleased to regard as His own. There He came. And His own people did not receive Him — notice, it does not say they did not know Him! It was rejection, not ignorance.

This Gospel starts, then, with the fact that He is a rejected Saviour, while the first chapter gives us His personal glories, and these I might say are innumerable.

"Beloved, the world does not know us, because it did not know Him." The motives that move the true believer, and the objects that stir him, lie far beyond the world's range of vision. And we may be sure of this: the more the world can enter into and appreciate a Christian's motives, the more that Christian must be unfaithful to his Lord.

But He had one place on earth which He was pleased to regard as His own possession (ta idia). There He came. And His own people (hoi idioi) — it does not say they did not know Him, but that they did not receive Him! It was rejection, not ignorance.

The first word "own" in John 1:11 could be rendered "own home" — and John 19:27 does translate it that way. Refused His rightful place among His own people, He still had a home. To it He would invite the two disciples who asked, "Master, where are You staying?" His home was always in the bosom of the Father's love.

On this earth, the people of Israel, the seed according to the flesh, were of all mankind in the best position to receive the Lord. The world around them did not know Him... That people had the law, the promises, the covenants, the oracles of God. According to the promise, the Lord was to come among them — and among them He came... But when the Messiah appeared, the Jews did not receive Him, even though His coming fitted the predictions of their own prophets perfectly. It is true, they said, and rightly, "This is the heir"; but because they hated Him, they added, "Come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours."

And, worse still, His own — that favoured nation to whom God had spoken in the law and by the prophets, who boasted that they were God's people — did not receive Him when He came to them. They loved the darkness and not the light, because their deeds were evil. The Creator was a rejected stranger in His own world, and not rejected only, but hated.

When He was born a baby in David's city, there was no room for Him in the travellers' inn. Later there was no place for Him in Jerusalem or in its temple. Even among His own people the Lord of all had nowhere to lay His head. What a comment on human religiousness! And what an explanation: you may train human nature all you like — even train it by the law of God — and fallen humanity still has no heart for that life which was always with the Father, and which appeared in the person of Jesus.

The first three — Matthew, Mark, and Luke — present Christ to man to be received, with proofs of power enough to remove all the effects of sin. But behind it all you find the difficulty: man is in the flesh, and the mind of the flesh is hostile to God. John's testimony starts here — men did not receive Him, and so He came in that grace which rose above all the rejection... so God comes out in grace... and so His Gospel all through is election and grace.

He came to His own, and they rejected Him. So condemnation closed their final responsibility. Still, grace in purpose would have a new set of people called "His own," taken out of the world. They are not limited to the chosen earthly nation, but include all who receive the Son, or in other words all who "believe on His name."

This verse makes four statements. One is positive and three are negative. The positive one is "who were born … of God." The three negative ones are "not of blood," "nor of the will of the flesh," and "nor of the will of man." These three are the parts that make up our human birth into this world. "Blood" refers to the nature of that birth, "flesh" to the agent, and "man" to the source... Chapter 1 stresses what the new birth is not. Chapter 3 stresses what it is and how God brings it about.

The Jew boasted of having Abraham's blood in his veins, just as today a man may boast of being born of aristocratic or even royal blood. Those humble souls, who as exceptions to the rule received Christ when He came, were born of God... Their birth was of God, a divine act. And the One whom they received in faith gave them the right to take openly the place that was already theirs by that birth.

The flesh is the moral principle of fallen humanity. It loves to reason, but hates to obey. It cannot be subject to the law of God. Those who are in it cannot please God. Its mind, which it glories in, is enmity against God. It is the seed-bed of human theories and speculations... The believer is not born of that, nor of the will of man; it is a ruined race. This is a solemn and important word, and it meets us right at the start of this Gospel.

Third — "nor of the will of man." This settles the matter definitely — "man" has nothing to do with it. He may reform you, educate, civilise, make you religious, but he cannot touch this question. This belongs to God alone.

Not by baptism but by faith. Not infants who do not understand what the ceremony means, but sinners led to put their trust in Christ. This birth does not come by a priest putting a few drops of water on the face of an unconscious infant. It is "of God," by God's own sovereign act.

But this new life given of God is not merely a moral change — a ceasing to do evil and learning to do well. It is a real new kind of life in the believer, though it may be impossible to define. That is no wonder, for natural life is impossible to define too. Through it we are the children of God in reality, not just in name — really born of Him.

They form a new race. This does not come by natural birth — of blood. It does not come by their own efforts — the will of the flesh. It does not come by the will of others — the will of man. It comes from a new life they receive from God.

Suppose I, while still unconverted, could produce the new birth by my own faith. Then it would be of "the will of the flesh" and "the will of man" — and we are plainly told that it is not. It is "of God," "of His own will," "by the word of God," and there we must leave it.

Does new birth come before faith, or after it? Such questions try to separate what God has joined together and will not have divided... It is enough to say that new birth is a sovereign act of God, that He is first in it, and that it comes by the Word through faith.

In verse 14 a new part begins. Before, it was what He was; now, what He became. The Word became flesh and lived among us. It was a real thing, not like God appearing to Abraham for a visit. He pitched His tent among us.

When Scripture says that the Word became flesh, it teaches us this was a new beginning. It was a condition that did not exist before. Now it is true of the One who was and is the Word.

"Flesh" describes humanity by its lowest part. The depth of this stooping down is the glory of what is revealed, and the words "the Word became flesh" convey that glory perfectly.

His humanity was not just an outward form. It was not something put on like a coat for a purpose, then thrown off once that purpose was done. It was real. He became an actual man, and this He will never cease to be.

His becoming man took nothing at all away from His eternal deity, or from His eternal place within God Himself. It only gave His humanity His own perfection without limit.

In that tent, the glory of God had lived — in the darkness, not in the light, shut away where no one could reach it. Now here was another tent, the flesh of Christ, and in it lived the full glory of God, open to all. People could come near that divine glory and look at it, because it was shown in grace and truth.

He tabernacled among us, full of grace and truth. It was not a visit or an appearance of God, as in Old Testament experiences.

"We beheld," here, would tell any spiritual mind that this was spiritual sight, not just physical sight. So it does not mean one event in the lives of those who saw Him. It means a lasting impression on the mind. That is why one translation renders it as "we have contemplated His glory."

There was glory in this unique Person, "Only-begotten with Father." That glory existed before, and no one had ever seen it until He became flesh. When His devoted disciples did see it, it came to them as unlimited grace and truth, and it bound them to Him for ever.

It is God come as a man into the world of sinners. He comes veiled in humiliation. He comes into the world of sinners in grace. Instead of saying, "You must behave properly," He comes Himself — not to judge, but to save... Grace comes abounding over all the sin, and truth comes too — not telling us what we ought to be, but what we are.

He came after John in date, so He must be preferred before him in dignity. For He was (ἦν) — not came into being (ἐγένετο) — before him. He was God. This statement (verse 15) is a parenthesis, though it confirms verse 14. It connects John's testimony with this new section, where Christ appears in flesh. In the same way we saw John introduced in the earlier verses, which dealt with Christ's nature as the Word in the abstract.

There would have been neither sense nor reason in John's testimony if Jesus had not been more than man, for John entered the world before He did. But John began his existence at his birth. The One he spoke of came forth from eternity. And John, full of the Holy Spirit, knew that the lowly Nazarene was his Lord. He was before John, before Abraham, before the beginning, the great I AM.

The word is the first part of the word used later in the letters for firstborn. It would show that the Lord was before John not only in time, but also in rank. No doubt the emphatic "was" has time in view. But here is One of whom John could testify, "He was before me", and that seems to show He comes first in both time and rank.

The coming of Jesus after John was no lessening of His glory, but the very opposite. No greater prophet than John the Baptist had arisen among those born of women. But Jesus is God. If He chose to come after John in time, He had still become beyond compare before him in place and title. Indeed, He really was before him, and this only because He is divine.

So far, then, the Baptist bore witness to the surpassing excellencies of the coming One. And clearly he wanted everyone he could reach with his voice to hear it. For he "cried out," we read (1:15). The Lord Jesus in John 7:37 and 12:44 sought to reach many by His voice. The Baptist cried out in the same way. No doubt he wanted to clear away any illusion that he was himself the Christ (Luke 3:15).

The Baptist speaks of Jesus as really before him, though He came after him, and he repeats it with a kind of jealousy (verses 15, 27, 30). But this is very blessed. In it the Holy Spirit, who spoke through John, honours Jesus as the great Subject of all the divine counsels, the great Ordinance of God, to whom all other ordinances pointed. And so, though He came after them, He was before them. John speaks as if voicing the mind of all ordinances and ministries: "He who comes after me ranks before me, because he was before me." For the Son alone had been set up from everlasting (Prov. 8:23), the great first Object of all the divine counsels. Every prophet and ordinance was only His servant, a testimony to Him.

Love delights to see Christ exalted, even though the one who delights in Christ passes out of the thoughts and sight of men. If only every believer could catch this happy spirit of John! It shrinks from public notice and prominence before men, so that Christ may be exalted. It makes nothing of self, so that Christ may be all in all.

The straight line of truth runs: "full of grace and truth … and from His fulness we have all received, grace upon grace" (verse 16). What an astonishing truth! He is the gift and the giver — full of grace and truth. From His fulness we all received. That is what even the least believer has. The strongest is only stronger because he values Him better. There is no blessing outside Him, and so no lack for the soul that has Jesus. If anyone tries to add anything else to the Lord, it is a real loss, not a gain. It only adds what takes away from Him. For Christ is all, and in all.

It is the endless sea of divine grace flowing in on the shore of human need, wave after wave, filling every inlet and creek and cave. All it looks for is room for its blessing. It is the fulness of the Godhead brought down to us in Jesus. It pleased the Father that all fulness should live in Him. That fulness lived in Him, and still lives in Him for you… You have no need that He cannot meet. There is no crack in your heart that He cannot fill.

This is the second place where the blessings and privileges of the saints are named. In verse 13 the blessing given to all believers was the place of children of God. Here it is that we have all received from His fulness. That is the necessary and blessed effect of receiving Christ Himself. Many seem content instead with receiving some doctrinal statement about Him. Receiving Himself is a very different thing. With Himself we receive all that He is. His wisdom, riches, honours and powers are all ours. We see with His eyes, understand with His heart, feel with His affections.

The grace was so rich, so plainly divine. It was not that some souls deserved more than the rest and were rewarded on a rising scale of honour. No: from His fulness we have all received. Nothing could contrast more sharply with the system of government God had set up, which people had known in earlier times. Here there could not be more, and He would not give less… The law that Moses gave was no giver in itself; it was a demander. Jesus, full of grace and truth, gave, instead of requiring or receiving.

"And from His fulness we have all received, grace upon grace" — it really means grace heaped upon grace. When one grace was given, another came on top of it. Divine favour was in the world in all its fulness, and truth about everything… As believers we have all received an abundance of grace from Christ's fulness. Here it is what is in Himself.

The picture here is the ocean — the fulness, the love, the power, the wisdom and grace that is in Christ. From that fulness, that ocean of God's resources in Christ, we have received grace upon grace. Before the effect of one wave has passed away, another has taken its place. That is what God has in mind for us.

In John 2, we see grace shown at the wedding feast. In John 3, as dealing with Nicodemus. In John 4, meeting the woman at the well. In John 5, with the man at the pool. In John 6, feeding the crowds. In John 8, with the woman in the temple. In John 9, opening the eyes of the blind man. In John 11, raising Lazarus and dealing with his sisters. Put them all together, and we can truly say, "From His fulness we have all received, grace upon grace."

The law was given by Moses. Nothing came into the world by the law. But grace and truth came, and they were really here when Christ was here. He is "the truth" — He is truth plainly set out before us; and all grace was in Him, that is, love adapted to the state man is in.

The law is holy, just, and good; but still it is nowhere called the truth. The law is God's standard of what He requires from man. It states what God demands from anyone who stands before Him on the ground of his own obedience. The truth is the revealing of God, and the making known of everything else, in Christ. It is therefore not requirement, but revelation. In fact, God Himself contrasts the two here. Was it not God's law? Yes — but Moses gave it. He was the channel it came through… Besides, Christ is the Truth. He makes everyone and everything known as they really are.

If I take the law, God never came out, and man could not get in. In the Person of Christ, God did come out, and man has gone in… Grace comes abounding over all the sin, and truth comes too. It does not tell us what we ought to be, but what we are — and man does not like that. When I come and tell a man that truth came by Jesus Christ, he does not like it, for truth says man is lost already.

There is a twofold action in all God's dealings with us — an action of truth, and an action of grace. The first uncovers the evil, the second puts it away. The first unfolds what man is, the second what God is… Both are needed: truth, to maintain God's glory; grace, to establish our blessing.

It is interesting to note that grace is put before truth, and yet grace is not more important than truth, nor truth more important than grace. I understand that a single verb follows those two nouns to show us that we cannot separate the one from the other. We have to come to the Lord's death to understand the secret of it. At the cross we find that grace and truth have met together… You go into a garden and cut a stem, and it breaks into two stems, each holding a flower. So it is here — "grace and truth," two flowers on one stem.

Of course God had shown patience and grace in Old Testament times. He always was a gracious God, and He said so Himself. Again, many true and real things came to Israel through Moses. But when it comes to the absolute thing we have to turn to Christ. In Him God revealed His grace in full and showed His truth in full. The law made many true things known, but reality itself shone out in Christ.

The beauty and necessity and power of grace can only be seen when man's inability is demonstrated. He cannot take hold of the blessing in his own strength. He cannot even keep a blessing already given to him.

Moses brought law. The Son of God brought grace. A servant could come and tell man what God claimed from him. But only the Son of God could unfold the heart and nature of God. Moses could not do that.

The full revelation of God, however, waited for the coming of the Lord Jesus. The most that was possible, even for so great a man as Moses, was to see "the back parts" of the Lord (Ex. 33:23). Certain divine attributes stood out, such as His mercy and patience. But God could only reveal Himself in full in the only-begotten Son, who was God and became Man.

The mediator himself could not look at the glory of the Lord face to face. He could not see God and live. So it still remains, despite everything God declared to him, that "no one has seen God at any time." But the Only-begotten Son has not only seen Him. As the Son of His love, in the Father's bosom, He has declared Him — told Him out.

Verse eighteen expresses this in its effect for us: "the Only-begotten Son who is" — literally, "the One being" or "abiding" — "in the bosom of the Father, He has declared Him" (told Him out). Here the unchanging closeness of that eternal relationship is what qualifies Him as the perfect Revealer of God.

It is a wrong thought that He left the Father's bosom. He never did; He left the Father's house. In Christ you get the full revelation of what the Father is. The only begotten Son, all the Father's delight centres in Him, in the bosom of the Father, that is, in the full enjoyment of it, He declares the Father.

God has revealed part of Himself in creation, where we see His majesty and almighty power. Psalm 19:1, for example, says, "The heavens declare the glory of God." But the only-begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, has declared Him in full. The Son has not declared the Father from the outside. As He told what the Father was, He did not start at the outside, with creation. He started with the heart of God, with His bosom — the place of feelings, the place where love dwells. That is the starting point.

But this one is the simplest of all, for it means to "tell the whole story." When the apostle Paul tells the church at Jerusalem how God had worked through him among the Gentiles, it is the same word. It means "tell the whole story," and that is exactly what the Lord Jesus Christ came to do. He came to say everything that could be said, everything that had to be said, to make God known. It was in the bosom of the Father that He was, and so it is as the Father that He declares Him.

The Gospel is meant to bring Christ before us, and I find the sense to be this: well, you have not seen God, and yet you have. He who was the very delight of the Father — who is in the bosom of the Father, the immediate and closest object of the Father's delight — He has declared Him. Therefore I do know Him. It is the answer to the difficulty, that no one ever saw God. Christ has made Him known to me.

So God took care to stir up a general expectation of the Messiah in the minds of His people, and to send them the fullest witness. There was never a more strictly independent witness than John. He was born, brought up, and kept back until the right moment to testify of the Messiah. The detailed questions of those sent by the Jews from Jerusalem show how much this occupied people's minds at the time. They wanted to find out the real character and aim of this mysterious Israelite. He himself came from a priestly family, and that, as they should have known, ruled him out of the title of Messiah. There was no vagueness in his reply. John was not the Anointed. That was the main aim of their search.

"The Jews." In verse 24 it is said that the Pharisees sent them. The name "Jews" also has a special use for the Lord's opponents — those who were Jews only in name. Apart from that, the distance of time and place called for the title, even from a writer who was himself a Jew by birth.

Though he was the son of a priest, he carries out no priestly duties. We never even find him at Jerusalem. Even his clothing speaks of the desert, being made of camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist. His food is locusts and wild honey.

Of course the Jews could not ignore this strange and powerful witness. They sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to question John. Without human credentials, with no authority from either Jews or Romans, no advertising, no public display — who is this man? But John briefly answers, "I am not the Christ." He had no interest in talking about himself. What did it matter who he was? He was not the one Man of importance. Christ was the burden of his testimony, not himself.

Five times in this chapter we read that John bore witness. First in verse 7 — this section runs down to verse 14 and is mainly occupied with the Lord's coming into the world. Then verses 15 to 18 mention another witness, mainly concerned with His pathway. In verses 19 to 31 we have his witness concerning the death of our Lord.

Verses 19-28 give us John's testimony, given while he was baptizing in the Jordan. It is a completely different side of it from what the other Gospels record. First came the negative side. The religious leaders were curious about him. They wanted to know whether he was the Christ, or Elijah, or the prophet Moses had spoken of. His testimony was steady: he was none of these, only the voice crying in the wilderness that Isaiah had spoken of.

I would like everyone to notice what it is that makes a man great in the moral sense of the word. In John 1:19-27 we get a record of conversations between John the Baptist and those sent to examine him on behalf of the Pharisees. We find that John persistently refuses to talk about himself. He prefers to speak of the great One who was to come.

So God took care to stir up a general expectation of the Messiah in the minds of His people. He also sent them the fullest witness. There was never a more independent witness than John. He was born, brought up, and kept until the right moment to testify of the Messiah. The detailed questions of those sent by the Jews from Jerusalem show how much men's minds were stirred at the time. They wanted to find out the real character and aim of this mysterious Israelite. He came from a priestly family, and that, as they should have known, ruled him out of the Messianic title. But there was no vagueness in the reply. John was not the Anointed. This was the main aim of their search.

They came to ask him, "Who are you?" "He confessed, and did not deny," says the exultant Spirit; "but confessed, I am not the Christ." Was that, after all, only a small thing to say? Yes; but it was the way he said it, unasked, as one who knew in his soul that Christ is the One men need, so that they need nothing else. What did it matter what he himself was? He and they were standing in the presence of His glory — though in very different ways — and they did not know it.

With his heart full of Christ, John very beautifully replies, "I am not the Christ." This seems a remarkable answer, since no one had said or asked anything about Christ. It is as if John said, "You have come to me, but I am not the One you need, I am not the Christ." As a true witness he presents Christ and hides himself. The more they press him to speak of himself, the shorter his answers become.

His fame had spread. The Jews of that city had heard his name, and wanted to get his own account of himself. And how favourable the opportunity now offered for self-exaltation! How easy to satisfy the taste of these interviewers with a little self-assertion! But John was proof against it. Indeed, one of the most striking features in this remarkable man of God was his humility. His unawareness of self was plain and lovely.

He was not the Christ, as he confessed and did not deny, when men were ready to give him the glory due to the Master.

Here was a man of real power and dignity. He was one of Christ's most distinguished servants, holding the very highest position. His preaching had stirred the hearts of thousands. Angels had announced his birth. Prophets had foretold his ministry. He was the herald of the kingdom, the friend of the King. Yet when forced to speak of himself, this remarkable man will only say, "I am a voice." Not even a man, but only a voice.

Let us not suppose that to give true testimony to Christ is an easy or simple thing. It is not. Even the best and greatest of God's servants have carried the flesh within them, with all its deep-rooted tastes and habits. So a dangerous tendency is always there. It puts self in the foreground and Christ in the background, even while seeming to bear witness to Him. John the Baptist was remarkably proof against this.

Every godly Jew expected the two figures named here to appear at some point in connection with Messiah. So when John came on the scene, the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him three questions. Was he the Christ? Once he had confessed that he was not, they then asked, with reference to Malachi 4:5-6, whether he was Elijah. He denied that too. Then they asked, now with Deuteronomy 18:17-19 in their minds, "Are you the Prophet?" And he answered, "No."

Knowing Scripture only blinds those who are not in present communion with the mind of God. In that case, the light a person has becomes darkness.

They press him further about whether he is Elijah (v. 21), no doubt with Malachi 4:5 in mind. "I am not" is his blunt answer. Does this contradict the Lord's words in Matthew 11:14? No. In a spiritual sense John was Elijah — that is, a prophet of similar spirit and power (Luke 1:17). But the Jews had in mind a literal reincarnation, and that was in no way true. John was not Elijah himself.

The key appears to lie in Matthew 11:14: "And if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come." Such a word, however, needed ears to hear. The Lord Himself is Son of Man as well as Messiah. So John's testimony and his lot were to match a coming in shame and sorrow, as well as one in power and glory. The Jews cared only for the coming in power and glory.

The Lord, speaking of John, said, "Elijah has come," Mark 9:13, which seems to clash with John 1:21; another passage, however, explains it: "If you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come." Matthew 11:14. He had come in the spirit and power of Elijah, as Gabriel had foretold.

The difficulty had to do with the truth of the two comings, which the disciples did not yet understand. The Lord came in humiliation. He will come again in power and glory. A forerunner preceded the first coming. A forerunner will appear before the second. So the Lord replied to the disciples' question: "Elijah does come, and he will restore all things. But I tell you that Elijah has already come, and they did not recognise him, but did to him whatever they pleased." The scribes were right about the coming of Elijah. He will come and restore all things. Nothing like that has been seen down here yet.

Before Moses died, God commissioned him — the mediator of the first covenant — to tell Israel of a Prophet who would come like himself. All were to listen to Him (Deuteronomy 18:15)... The people were taught to expect a Prophet who would teach them, as well as a Messiah who would save them. That expectation had not died out in fifteen hundred years. For people asked John the Baptist whether he was the Prophet who was to come (John 1:21). So Israel was still looking for the Prophet. Soon after the word of God came to John, it became clear that the Prophet and the Messiah were one Person.

With his heart full of Christ, John gives this blessed reply: "I am not the Christ." The answer seems remarkable, since nothing had been said or asked about Christ. It is as if John said, "You have come to me, but I am not the One you need, I am not the Christ." As a true witness he presents Christ and hides himself. The more they press him to speak about himself, the shorter his answers become. They say, "Are you Elijah?" He replies, "I am not." They ask, "Are you the Prophet?" He answers with a single word, "No." John is decreasing so that Christ may increase.

His preaching caused a great stir in the land, so much so that priests and Levites came from Jerusalem to find out who he could be. But he was a faithful witness, and he would not let the support of these great and influential men turn him from his mission. He had come to speak of Christ, to prepare the people for their Lord, and he refused to talk about himself... He was a blessed and faithful servant. He kept himself out of his own message, so that his Lord might be everything in it.

It is unwelcome to any right-minded person to be asked to speak about himself. So, I have no doubt, John found it... But they wanted a positive answer. He had little indeed to say about himself. "I" had a very small place in John's thoughts.

They were determined to have an answer, and he gives them one. They would compel him to speak of himself, and he does so. But look at his answer! Who or what was he? Nobody. He was only "a voice." Here was a man of real power and dignity, one of Christ's most honoured servants, in the very highest position. His preaching had stirred the hearts of thousands. Angels announced his birth; prophets foretold his ministry. He was the herald of the kingdom, the friend of the King. Yet force this remarkable man to speak of himself, and the most he will say is, "I am a voice." Not even a man, but only a voice.

A "voice" — barely a person. Its whole value lies in the message it brings. A voice must pass away, but it may do a work that will not pass. Here is a voice that would bring to the souls of men the imperishable Word which remains for ever... What are men, that a name among them and a following from them should be worth wanting?

He replies that he is only a "voice"... the voice Isaiah spoke of. He refuses to take a place as a gathering centre for the people of God; he refuses to take a name, to exalt himself among the people of God. He is simply a voice to speak of Jesus in obedience to the Word of God.

John does take his stand as a witness to Jesus, to His personal and divine glory. So when they challenged him about who he was, he used of himself the prophetic word attached to him in every Gospel: "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Make straight the way of the Lord.'" Jesus was Jehovah. John was no more than a voice in a desolate earth — indeed, in a desolate Israel — to prepare the way before Him.

These priests, sent by the Pharisees in Jerusalem, should have hurried back to those who sent them. What a message they had to carry! The man they had enquired about was none other than the forerunner of the Lord... What would they do? Sadly, the announcement did not move them at all. They were a generation without faith. They could not even see past John's message, and they went on asking him about himself.

Listen to His testimony to John — the one who said of himself that he was nothing but a voice. "Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist." How much better to hear this from the Master than from the servant! John said, "I am a voice." Christ said he was the greatest of prophets.

They were determined to have an answer, and he gives them one. They would compel him to speak of himself, and he does so. But mark his answer! Who or what was he? Nobody. He was only "a voice." … Here was a man of real power and dignity. He was one of Christ's most honored servants, holding the very highest position. His preaching had stirred the hearts of thousands. Angels had announced his birth. Prophets had foretold his ministry. He was the herald of the kingdom, the friend of the King. Yet when this remarkable man was forced to speak of himself, all he would say was, "I am a voice." Not even a man, but only a voice.

A "voice" — hardly a person. Its whole value lies in the message it brings. A voice must pass away, yet it may do a work that will not pass. Here is a voice that will bring to the souls of men the undying Word that lasts forever. We cannot help seeing that the voice in John stands in fitting relation to the Word, who is Christ, and of whom the Gospel speaks in this way.

He replies that he is only a "voice." … He refuses to take a place as a gathering centre for the people of God. He refuses to take a name, or to lift himself up among the people of God. He is only a voice to speak of Jesus in obedience to the Word of God.

Still, John does take his stand as a witness to Jesus, to His personal and divine glory. To this end, when they challenged him about who he was, he applies to himself the prophetic word attached to him in every Gospel: "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of Jehovah." Jesus was Jehovah. John was no more than a voice in the desolation of the earth — yes, of Israel — to prepare the way before Him.

It means that the One he brings in is Jehovah. But he leaves out the prophet's words, "a highway for our God." Though He is acknowledged to be Jehovah, He comes in as a man in humiliation. Besides, Israel in its present state could not be put in the position of saying "our" God.

This is why John the Baptist does not appeal to the people as a whole, like the prophets who had preceded him. He says, "The voice of one crying in the wilderness." Israel was a wilderness for God. From now on his appeal rests on their ruin beyond recovery. The appeal of the older prophets always assumed that the nation could still return to Jehovah.

In preparation for receiving Jehovah their King they were to make His paths straight. As His people they were to walk in His paths and not paths of their own choosing. What counted was reality and the evidence of it, not natural claim and empty words.

If they listened to John and repented, they were ready in heart to receive the forgiveness of sins through the One who was about to come. So the path before the Lord would be made straight.

"The Jews." Verse 24 says that the Pharisees sent them. Apart from a special use of the name "Jews" for the Lord's opponents — those who were such only in name — the distance of time and place called for that name, even from a writer who was himself a Jew by birth.

So God took care to stir up a general expectancy of the Messiah in the minds of His people. He also sent them the fullest witness. And there was never a more independent witness than John. He was born, brought up, and kept until the right moment to testify of the Messiah.

Now this was a very remarkable answer to fall on the ears of the Pharisees who were the messengers sent to question the Baptist. Surely it is not without meaning that this fact is stated. Pharisees know very little of self-hiding or self-emptiness. Such rare and lovely fruits do not grow in the withering air of Pharisaism. They only grow in the new creation, and there is no Pharisaism there. Pharisaism, in all its phases and at all its levels, is the direct moral opposite of self-denial. So John's reply must have sounded strange in the ears of the questioners.

This contains a volume of deep practical instruction for the heart. It is exactly what is needed in this day of busy self-importance — needed by each, needed by all. For do we not, each and all, have to judge ourselves for our strong tendency to think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think? So we deeply need the wholesome teaching given by the lovely self-emptiness of John the Baptist, who when challenged to speak of himself could step back into the shade and say, "I am only a voice."

But those who had been sent were of the Pharisees, and they saw nothing. They did not heed the testimony as men who knew their need. They had misread the ages past, and here was the voice of those ages. It was strange and distant. And the light in the eyes of the man who spoke — had they not seen it before in many a fanatic?

These priestly delegates from the Pharisees in Jerusalem should have hurried back to those who sent them. What a message they had been given to carry! The man they had asked about was none other than the forerunner of the Lord. His Master's footsteps were already sounding behind him... What would they do? Sadly, the announcement did not move them at all. They were a generation without faith. They were ritualists. They cared much about the outward form of baptism and about who had authority to perform it. But they had neither ears nor hearts for the word of God which John spoke among them.

If, however, John refuses to become a new gathering centre, why does he baptize? The Pharisees knew well that baptism meant death, and therefore separation, for death is the great separator. If John baptized, it meant separation from the old order of things, to have part in something entirely new. What, then, the Pharisees ask, is the new centre of gathering, seeing that John refused to be a leader or centre?

In fact, it was an unheard-of boldness to impose such a baptism on Israelites. Here was a man with no miracle to back him, with nothing but his own life, lived apart from the world, and that fervent appeal to the conscience which woke it up to its work. They could not meet him on the ground of Scripture or of fact; but it was easier to question his personal right to baptize, of which they themselves were the accepted judges.

But the men who had been sent were Pharisees, and they saw nothing. They did not take in the testimony, as people aware of their need would have done. They had misread the ages past, and here was the voice of those ages, and it was strange and distant... But they were sharp ritualists, and now they had a rightful question for him, founded on his own confession. If he was neither Christ, nor Elijah, nor the Prophet, why did he baptize?

They further ask why he baptized, if he was neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet. Elijah means the immediate forerunner of the kingdom in power and glory over the earth (Mal. 4). The prophet means the one promised in Deut. 18. The apostle Peter in Acts 3 applies that promise just as clearly to the Lord Jesus, though the Jews seem by then to have taken it away from the Messiah.

The Greek article, here as in verse 21, excludes the idea some have had that behind the Jew's question lay the superstitious notion (referred to in Luke 9:19) that the old prophets would rise from the dead when Messiah came.

The Pharisees were well aware that baptism signified death, and therefore separation, for death is the great separator. If John baptized, it meant separation from the old order of things, to have part in something entirely new. What, then, the Pharisees ask, is the new centre of gathering, seeing that John refused to be a leader or centre?

In fact, it was an unheard-of boldness to impose such a baptism on Israelites. Here was a man with no miracle to back him. He had nothing but his own life apart from the world, and that burning appeal to the conscience which woke it up to its work. With it came the startling announcement that heaven's Kingdom and its King were at hand. They could not meet him on the ground of Scripture or of fact. It was easier to question his personal right to the privilege he claimed, since they were its recognised judges.

But John answers them in his own strange way, by attacking all ritualism at its very root. Baptize? Yes, he baptized — with water! As a symbol, water might carry the deepest meaning. Otherwise it could only wash dirt from the body. Water does water's work, the work its Maker appointed for it. Why make much of this, while One stood in the middle of them, unknown and unnoticed? He was so great that the Baptist declares he was unworthy to do a servant's task for Him, and had received from Him all the significance he had.

The religious Jew had no appreciation of Christ. He was standing among them, but as One unknown. Not only was He unknown by the world, but unknown by the priests and Levites of Jerusalem. Yet so great is this unknown One that John can say His "sandal strap I am not worthy to untie."

So the more this dear servant of Christ is forced to speak of himself or of his work, the more he withdraws into the shade. When asked about himself, he says "I am a voice." Then asked about his work, he says, "I am not worthy to untie my Master's sandal strap." There is no swelling or exalting of self, no fuss about his service, no parading of his work.

He makes no effort to defend himself... His single-heartedness in testimony is an example for every servant of Christ.

Honesty would have admitted that John's authority came from heaven. But they had not accepted his testimony, and admitting the truth would have embarrassed them badly. On the other hand, saying John's baptism was from men would have angered the common people they wanted as followers. The people knew that John was a prophet. And what men could they point to who had given John such authority? No Jewish authorities had done this (compare John 1:19-27). They answer, "We cannot tell."

In the other Gospels, John gave his testimony about the Lord before the Lord was baptized, and so before John knew Him. In this Gospel, John, the son of Zechariah, speaks after the baptism of Christ. That is why his language differs. He could now say that One stands among them. In Matthew, Mark and Luke he always speaks of the coming One. Here he speaks of Him as come, and in the middle of the people.

"Stands." This does not mean the Lord was in the crowd in front of John at that moment (compare verse 29). The word means "there has stood." Bengel renders it: "has taken his stand."

In his reply John admits that he baptizes with water. This implies that to gather around Christ you must separate from the corrupt religious system of that day. The religious Jew had no appreciation of Christ. He was standing among them, but as One unknown. The world did not know Him, and neither did the priests and Levites of Jerusalem. Yet this unknown One is so great that John can say His "sandal strap I am not worthy to untie."

They were a generation without faith. They could not even see behind John's message, and they continued to ask him about himself. They were ritualists. They cared a great deal about the outward form of baptism and about who had the right to perform it. But they had no ears and no hearts for the word of God that John spoke among them.

"And I did not know Him, but for this purpose I came baptizing with water, that He might be revealed to Israel." There you have John's part. All he could do was to baptize with water. That was a kind of token or sign to Israel that the Christ was about to be revealed.

Scripture is just as plain that it is quite distinct from Christian baptism. It is so distinct that disciples who had already been baptized with John's baptism had to be baptized to Christ when they received the full truth of the gospel (Acts 19). Confessing a coming Messiah is very different from confessing His death and resurrection. This is the root of differences that carry weighty consequences.

The more this dear servant of Christ has to speak of himself or of his work, the more he steps back into the shade. Asked about himself, he says, "I am a voice." Asked about his work, he says, "I am not worthy to untie my Master's sandal strap." There is no puffing up or exalting of self. He makes nothing of his service and does not parade his work. The greatest of prophets was, in his own eyes, only a voice. The most honoured of servants thought himself unworthy to touch his Master's shoe.

In his witness to the truth he witnesses to the greatness of Jesus, and to his own unworthiness next to Him. It was a wonderful testimony to the Son of God. He was there among the men the Pharisees had sent, and the testimony left them without excuse. They did not know Jesus, but John's testimony should have led them to seek Him and to accept Him.

In his reply John admits that he baptises with water. This implies that to gather round Christ, you must separate from the corrupt religious system of that day. He then shows that this separation is necessary. The religious Jew had no appreciation of Christ. He was standing among them, but as One they did not know. He was unknown not only by the world, but by the priests and Levites of Jerusalem. Yet this unknown One is so great that John can say, "I am not worthy to untie the strap of His sandal."

Archaic, 61-word sentence at grade 29; split and modernised

He is the voice Isaiah spoke of, the one who was to prepare the way of the Lord before Him. He does not go exactly before the Messiah, though the Lord was the Messiah. Nor is he Elijah going before the day of Jehovah. He is the voice in the wilderness, going before the Lord (Jehovah) Himself. Jehovah was coming. So this is what John speaks about. John's baptism was indeed a baptism of repentance. But One was already among them, unknown, who came after him and yet was greater than he was — the One whose sandal strap he was not worthy to untie.

If He were only a man, John would certainly have been worthy to be His servant, however great that man might be. But He was God, come among His people with good news.

But there was one moment in John's life that all four Gospels record, and the book of Acts records it again. In it John confesses that he is completely unworthy in the presence of this glorious Man — so unworthy that he is not fit to untie the sandals of Jesus. By pointing to these words five times, the Holy Spirit seems to be underlining the greatness of Christ as Man.

How wonderful it is to read of Him in this same Gospel washing the feet of His disciples. No one greater than John was ever born of women. Yet John was not worthy to untie this One's sandal strap — and this same One tied a towel round Himself and washed His disciples' feet.

Here was a man of real power and dignity, one of Christ's most famous servants, holding the very highest position. His preaching had stirred the hearts of thousands. Angels had announced his birth, and prophets had foretold his ministry. He was the herald of the kingdom, the friend of the King. Yet when this remarkable man was pressed to speak about himself, all he would say was, "I am a voice."

The oldest authorities give the best reading as Bethany, not Bethabara or Betharabah. This was not the well-known village near Jerusalem. It was another district of the same name beyond the Jordan.

One critic accused the writer of this Gospel of not knowing the geography of Palestine. The charge was that he had confused the place spoken of here with the village he himself says is near Jerusalem. But the country holds other place-names that each cover more than one location. For example, the Emmaus of Luke 24:13 could not be the same as the one mentioned in 1 Maccabees 3:40. Besides, places can change their names.

He is not only unknown. He is also in the outside place, "beyond Jordan." So from the very start, this Gospel shows Christ as rejected by the nation, and in the outside place of reproach.

We can name the place, but can we fix the spot? We all know Bethany, the village east of the Mount of Olives, where the family Jesus loved had their home. But there was another Bethany, east of the Jordan. It is unknown today, yet it had a history then. It is memorable for what happened on the first three of the six days we are reading about. It was there that the Lamb of God was first pointed out. It was there, too, that John's testimony sent Andrew and his companion after Christ. And it was there that the Lord withdrew, as chapter 10:40 of this Gospel relates. He stayed a short while, before offering up Himself as the Lamb of God, the sacrifice for sins. It seems fitting that He returned to the very place where John first proclaimed Him as the Lamb. From there He went up to Jerusalem to make that title good.

So the Lord withdraws until the moment God has appointed. Meanwhile He goes to the place where John worked at first, and stays there. Grace wins many a soul there, and they recognise in Him the truth of John's testimony.

We left John at Bethany, east of the Jordan. We now meet him on the west of that river, at Aenon near Salim, because there was much water there. So it was not far from Bethany beyond Jordan, where John first proclaimed the Lord as the Lamb of God. People had begun gathering to Him east of the Jordan, and now that gathering was going on in the west.

There is very little doubt that there is a quiet reference to Genesis 22. Abraham was on his way to Mount Moriah to offer up Isaac, obeying God's command. Isaac said, "Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?" And Abraham said, "God will provide for Himself the lamb for a burnt offering." And this is the point here. The Lamb of God is the Lamb of God's own providing, and now to deal once and for ever with the question of sin.

God has provided a lamb, a victim for sin — a lamb for our need, but it is God's Lamb for Himself. We do not have to find a lamb; God has found it and set it before us. We do not bring a lamb to God; He brings His to us. What grace!

There was no image more familiar to a Jew's mind than that of the lamb. It was the daily sacrifice of Israel, morning and evening. Besides, the Passover lamb was the pledge of the basic peace of the year. It was first set up at the very time the sons of Israel left the house of bondage. We can understand, then, what thoughts and feelings must have crowded into the hearts of those who were looking for a Saviour. His forerunner had just pointed them to Jesus in this way.

The first error consists in the simple addition of a letter, making it "sins" instead of sin... The question of a letter may seem small. But if Christ as the Lamb of God took away the sins of the world, universal salvation apart from faith would be the necessary consequence. That teaching undermines the foundations of Christianity. So we must insist on this: the verse speaks of the sin of the world, not the sins.

Where Jesus is spoken of as the propitiation, there it is for the world. The blood is on the mercy seat, and so mercy and forgiveness are proclaimed to all. But where Jesus is spoken of as the Substitute, actually bearing and taking away sins, it is always limited to believers.

This brings before us two parts of Christ's work. First, as the Lamb of God He dealt with sin as a sacrifice, being made sin at the cross. Second, He will take the principle of sin out of the world in a day to come.

Only the new heavens and new earth will see the final fulfilment. Then indeed it will be clear how truly Jesus was "the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world." For then, and not till then, sin will have disappeared completely, along with all its active consequences.

The testimony looks onward to the effects of the death of Christ as a whole, but these were not to appear all at once. The first result was to be the gospel, the message of forgiveness of sins to every believer. Now the blood of the Lamb stands before God, and not the sin of the world alone. So God could meet the world in grace, not in judgment.

In a moment Luther saw the personal application implied in the question. The light broke into his soul. He replied, "I believe in this forgiveness of my sins." So if the Lamb of God takes away the sin of the world, He may well take away my sins.

Then John witnesses to the greatness of the One Who, as the Lamb of God, will do this work. He says, "This is He of whom I said, 'After me comes a Man who ranks before me, because He was before me.'" In time, Christ came after John. In position, He stands far above John, because He existed in eternity before John.

The words "because He was before me" could only be used of a Divine Person. In fact John the Baptist was a few months older than the Lord in human birth. So it is clear that when he said the Lord was before him, he meant His Deity. In short, Jesus was Jehovah.

John the Baptist (who came on earth six months before Jesus) said again, "A MAN comes after me," but One who, in honour and dignity, "ranks before me," because, in His eternal existence, "He was before me." We can understand and rejoice in what is said about His exalted place. But who can explain how a "MAN" — the Word become flesh — who came "after" John was also "before" him? Yet we know this is a fact God has revealed.

His divine glory was essential to make the work He undertook effective. He must really be before John, however much John came before Him in history. "I myself did not know Him, but for this purpose I came baptizing with water, that He might be revealed to Israel." There you have John's part. All he could do was baptize with water.

The Baptist says that Jesus was truly before him, though He came after him. He repeats it as if guarding it jealously (vv. 15, 27, 30)… In this the Holy Spirit, who spoke through John, honours Jesus as the great Subject of all God's eternal purposes, God's own great appointed One, to whom all other appointed things pointed. So, though He came after them, He was before them… For it was the Son alone whom God had set up from everlasting, the great first Object of all His purposes. Every prophet and every appointed thing was only His servant, to bear witness to Him.

It is interesting and instructive to note that to the Pharisees John says nothing (verse 27) about Christ's eternal existence before him. Yet that is the ground of Christ taking first place over him, though He was born after him. Compare verses 15, 30.

No one could have given a bolder witness than John the Baptist on the day at Bethabara. In front of the whole crowd he cries, "This is He of whom I said, 'After me comes a Man who ranks before me, because He was before me.'" But when John finds himself inside the prison walls, when the crowds have gone, when the witnessing time is over and the waiting time has come, then under the stress of this new trial he cries, "Are You the one who is to come?"

"Knew Him not." Some cite Matthew 3:14 as contradicting this. But the comparison seems to show that the Greek here can hardly mean John knew nothing of our Lord at all, which in itself is very unlikely — though we must allow that they grew up in different parts of the land. John did not know Him as Messiah before this.

When Jesus was here, though truly Man, visible to mortal eyes, faith alone could really grasp who He was. Without some communication from God, no human heart was ready to receive Him. That communication came either direct or in the written Word, which they had, so they were responsible. Even John the Baptist had twice to say, "I did not know Him." He was the greatest born of women, filled with the Holy Spirit from his mother's womb, and the same is said of no other man.

Because the Baptist had not known Jesus before, his testimony was all the more solemn and clearly from God. Whatever inward conviction he had as the Lord came for baptism, it did not stop the outward sign. Nor did it stop the witness he bears to His Person and His work, as he had borne before it.

John is careful to show that his knowledge of the glory of the Person of the Christ lay completely outside the flesh. He did not get it from any natural knowledge of the Lord, or from being connected with Him by family ties.

There you have John's part. All he could do was to baptise with water. That was a kind of token or sign to Israel that the Christ was about to be revealed.

This was the basis of John's baptizing. It put Jews in the place of death, owning their total ruin under law. That was the only proper moral preparation, since the Lord of glory was present.

He answers the question of the Pharisees, "Why do you baptize?" He was closing up the old order by baptism, to reveal Christ to Israel as the great Centre of the new order of blessing. He was not there to reveal himself. He hid himself so that Christ "might be revealed".

Its true force is that what existed but was hidden has come into view. Faith of course gains by it, and in some cases it becomes a testimony to others. But the revealing is complete whatever its effects. This is true even where the verse names the people to whom the revealing was made, as John 1:31 makes certain. For our Lord was revealed to Israel; yet they, His own, did not receive Him. God brought Him to light for the very people that refused Him.

He adds also that he had been blind as to His glory, as the world itself was. Divine love and power alone brought us out of the state we were in. Being aware of that will make us rely on the same grace for others, and on nothing else but grace.

It is not merely the record of the event, but the witness of John concerning it: he tells us what he saw. Here also are added the words "it remained on Him." In the Son of God there was a dwelling place for the Spirit of God. One upon whom He could rest with deepest pleasure, and remain for the carrying out of all God's will.

Ravens might have been used in God's wisdom to feed the starving prophet in another dark day; but that was not the appearance of the Spirit descending from heaven to remain on Jesus. The dove alone could be the proper form, a picture of the spotless purity of Him on whom He came. Yet He did come upon Him as man. Jesus was man without sin — as truly man as any other, yet how different from all before or after! He was the second Man in bright contrast with the first.

Noah then sent out a dove. There was nothing to attract it: "the dove found no rest for the sole of her foot." It shows the condition of the world before Christ came. When He was here, the holy dove could remain upon Him. But before that, there was no man on whom the Holy Spirit could rest. He came upon certain men and gave them power for service. But there were none on whom He could rest.

Notice that word, "it remained on Him." In former days the Spirit had come "upon" men, but often He had left them. Moses partly lost it. Balaam lost it. Saul lost it. And David feared to lose it. But here is the only sinless Man, outside of Eden, that the world or God has seen. He received the Spirit, and "it remained on Him." The Spirit remaining is the Father's testimony to His delight and joy in that perfect Man. There and then, by this act, He owns Him as His Son.

He was sealed as Son of man, and as Son of man on earth before redemption. That needed no shedding of blood, because He knew no sin, and no deceit was found in His mouth. He was absolutely sinless. He could have the Holy Spirit remaining on Him apart from blood, because He was the Holy One — the Saviour. He needed no work, no blood, no redemption. Yet He died, shedding His blood and accomplishing redemption. Why? So that we might be sealed. We had no natural right to be brought near. The Holy Spirit could never have made His home in us. Now we may have that same Holy Spirit who dwelt in Him remaining in us.

The Spirit's descent, and His remaining on Jesus, was God's sign to John the Baptist about who Jesus was. Through it John saw the Son of God in His glory and bore witness to Him. The One on whom the Spirit came and remained was to baptize with the Holy Spirit. From this John saw the divine glory of Jesus. Who else but a divine Person could be the resting place of the Holy Spirit? Who but a divine Person could baptize with the Holy Spirit?

John 1:32 contradicts the theory that the Being who descended on Jesus was "the Christ," and declares that it was the "Spirit."

We may note the great care taken that John the Baptist should not have known Jesus beforehand. Luke 1 shows a remarkable link between the mothers of the two babies. That makes the Baptist's repeated statement, "I knew him not," all the more startling. God is setting out a knowledge that is infinitely above nature. It comes from His own teaching and the direct testimony of the Holy Spirit.

He does not deny that he had met Jesus before. But he does deny that his declaration came from conclusions he himself had drawn, or from any estimate of His Person he himself had formed. It rested on a revelation from heaven that he himself had received.

Notice that word: the Spirit "remained on him." In earlier days the Spirit came on men, but often He left them. Moses partly lost Him. Balaam lost Him. Saul lost Him. David feared to lose Him. But here is the only sinless Man, outside Eden, that the world or God has seen. He received the Spirit, and the Spirit "remained on him." That abiding Spirit is the Father's testimony to His delight and joy in that perfect Man. By that very act the Father owns Him as His Son.

But if the Spirit stayed on Him as man, this is He that baptizes with the Holy Spirit. None could so baptize but God. It would be blasphemy to say otherwise. It is the fullest prerogative of a divine Person to act in this way. So John the Baptist disclaimed it altogether. In every Gospel he points to Jesus alone as the Baptizer with the Holy Spirit, while he himself had come baptizing with water. It is the mighty work of Jesus from heaven, as He was the Lamb of God on the cross.

While giving this bright testimony to Jesus, the Baptist could not know all that lay before Jesus before He would baptize men with His Spirit. The Lord would not do this on earth. He would do it from His place of exaltation at the Father's right hand, after He had finished the great work of redemption on the cross.

It is evident that our Lord is applying these words when He says to the disciples after His resurrection, "John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now" (Acts 1:5). Here is the same contrast of water with Spirit, yet the same term, "baptism," applied to each. On the day of Pentecost, when these words were fulfilled, the Spirit did not connect Himself with water. It is certain, too, that these disciples were born again before Pentecost, so this baptism was not their new birth. The baptism of the Spirit is not what makes men new-born. It is what makes those already new-born members of the body of Christ.

That is, in John 1:32 you have the personal seal of the Holy Spirit given to Christ. "God the Father has set His seal on Him." The Holy Spirit came and stayed on Him. But a most blessed truth is brought out in the next verse. The same blessed Person, who was Himself sealed in this way, was also to baptize others with the Holy Spirit. There you have the two great divisions of our Lord's work. First, the Lamb bearing away the sin of the world, the crowning work of Christ on earth. Then His great heavenly work, founded on what He did on earth.

Even John the Baptist was the greatest born of women. He was filled with the Holy Spirit from his mother's womb, and the same is said of no other man. Yet twice he had to declare, "I myself did not know Him" (John 1:31, 33). By himself he could not define anything about His Person apart from the revelation made to him... The testimony he heard carried what John saw deep down into his soul. It made it a matter of faith, and so of power in his heart, so that he "bore witness."

There was one, but only one, of all who came to John, on whom the Holy Spirit could find a resting-place. All the others confessed their sins as John baptised them. They had all failed, and so were sinners in themselves. He alone was holy, for He was conceived of the Holy Spirit. On Him the Spirit descended, and remained. And John saw that, though probably no one else witnessed it.

John's conclusion, stated in verse 34, is of much importance... The Holy Spirit is a Person in the Godhead. And here is a Man who has this Divine Person at His disposal, to pour Him out as a baptism. Who can this Man be? No one less than the Son of God, another Person in the Godhead. So we are at once brought to the point which is the main aim of this Gospel (see 20:31). The Son was here in Manhood; that is why such a thing could be.

As the Lamb of God He accomplishes redemption. But that is not all. As the Son of God He gives the Holy Spirit, so that He may lead the redeemed into the blessedness of their place as sons. John bears witness that the One who gives the Holy Spirit is the Son of God. Who but a divine Person could give a divine Person? These titles given to the Lord by John go far beyond what Christ is in relation to Israel.

When the angel Gabriel announced the birth, he told the virgin that her child would be called the Son of God. So He is Son of God by incarnation. But He is Son of God as well by eternal generation... And how did John the Baptist learn that He was the Son of God? For revelation alone teaches that. Had he not heard the Father's voice addressing His Son, when He was baptised in the Jordan? "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased." That heavenly message was addressed to the Son, but surely John heard it. So John could declare with certainty that He would baptise with the Holy Spirit, learning that by special revelation. And with the same certainty he could proclaim the Sonship, hearing it in the Father's words to His Son.

This was the sign given to John the Baptist that opened his mouth to bear witness that Jesus was the Son of God... The descent of the Spirit on Jesus is the clear, heavenly testimony showing who Jesus was in His Person, as Son of God. John saw and bore witness that He was the Son of God Himself in this world. This is very precious for us to think about. With us it is no question of our persons, but of sovereign grace. He has ascended into glory and has baptised us with the Holy Spirit. And He, the eternal Son, first received this same testimony Himself as Man down here.

On the first day of his ministry John, the greatest born of women, retires into the background in the presence of Jesus. On the second day he witnesses to the glory of Christ's Person and the greatness of His work. On this, the last day of his ministry, he says nothing about the work of Christ or the gift of Christ. He speaks only of the Person of Christ... For what John says of Jesus on this day is the result of looking upon Jesus. It was not the result of reading about Him in the prophets, or hearing about Him from others, but of looking upon Him.

"John stood" — fixed, riveted, gazing at the most glorious Object that had ever held the gaze of men and angels — the Object of the Father's delight and of heaven's worship, "the Lamb of God." Notice the effect. "The two disciples heard Him speak and they followed Jesus." They felt there must be something uniquely attractive about One who could hold their master's heart like that.

The preacher's eyes were on Jesus, "looking upon Jesus," not looking upon the crowd... Yes, God's Lamb; until now man had brought his lamb. Five words. Without this, tons of theology books are worthless. What words for Jewish ears, who had learned from the law that without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins... The two heard him speak, and they followed Jesus. How simple, yet this is the power of God.

John the Baptist's eye caught Jesus as He walked. The sight fills him, and he speaks as if he cannot help it: "Behold the Lamb of God!" The Spirit of God carries these precious words home to the hearts of two of His disciples. It suddenly dawns on them what Christ was. At once it attaches them to Him, and so breaks them off from everything else — even from their religious teacher, often the hardest link to break. "And they followed Jesus!"

Here we do not have John's public ministry, which had not produced this effect. We have his own heart going out at the sight of the Lamb of God. "And the two disciples heard him speak, and they followed Jesus." And then Christ — and to me this is most important — Christ accepts being a centre. He says to them, "What are you seeking?"... Christ becomes a centre.

It is not the fullest or clearest statement of the truth that has the most effect on others. Nothing has such power as a heart expressing its joy and delight in an object that is worthy... John was the servant of God's purpose, so his mission was carried out best when his disciples followed Jesus.

In verse 35 John is like a man who had stepped back from his ministry, and was simply enjoying what it had all led to — the Lamb of God made known. We hear him speak out the hidden satisfaction of his soul: "Behold the Lamb of God!" He does not seem to have said these words to his disciples. But they heard him, lost in holy, happy thought about Jesus, and they follow Jesus. And, dear friends, this is what gets the same honour now. Our power to draw others after the Lord rests mainly on our own joy and communion with Him.

On the first day of his ministry John, the greatest of those born of women, steps into the background in the presence of Jesus. On the second day he testifies to the glory of Christ's Person and the greatness of His work. On this, the last day of his ministry, he says nothing about the work of Christ or the gift of Christ. He speaks only of the Person of Christ. He says, "Behold, the Lamb of God!" This was perhaps not so much a witness to others as the worship of a heart taken up with the beauty of Christ. What John says of Jesus on this day comes from looking at Jesus. It did not come from reading about Him in the prophets, or from hearing about Him from others, but from looking at Him.

In the earlier passage it was Christ as the sacrifice — the meek and gentle victim — offering Himself for the sin of the world. Here it is the display of what He is in Himself that stirs the wondering admiration of His forerunner. As he looks at Jesus walking by, his heart fills with adoring praise, and he says, "Behold, the Lamb of God!" Behold Himself: the beauty of His ways, the perfection of His walk, the unfolding of a divine-human life. That life was in itself a full and perfect moral picture of God to man.

What a living text! The preacher's eyes were on Jesus. He was looking at Jesus, not looking at the crowd. What he looked at was his text. His subject was the living Person of Jesus, and Jesus as the Lamb of God! And he said, Behold Him — "Behold, the Lamb of God!" Yes, God's Lamb. Until now man had brought his lamb. Five words. Without this, tons of volumes of theology are worthless.

It is not the fullest or clearest statement of the truth that acts most on others. Nothing has such power as a heart telling out its joy and delight in an object that is worthy. So it was now. The greatest of those born of women acknowledges the Saviour with simple, genuine honour, and John's own disciples, who heard him speak, follow Jesus. "He must increase, but I must decrease." And so it ought to be. Not John, but Jesus, is the centre: a man, yet God, for no one else could be the centre without taking from the glory of God.

The Spirit of God carries these precious words home to the hearts of two of John's disciples. It bursts in upon them what Christ was. At once this pulls them away from everything else — even from their religious teacher, often the hardest tie to break — by binding them to Him. "And they followed Jesus!"

It would be good for us if, in the hurry and rush of life, we too stood still for a while and made time to look at Jesus as He walked. Then we would drink into our souls the grace and excellence of Jesus — the gentleness and kindness, the loveliness and meekness, the holiness and love that marked every step of His life through this dark world of sin and sorrow. Then, with full hearts, we would call the attention of others to the loveliness of the One Who is altogether lovely.

The fullest or clearest statement of the truth is not what most affects others. Nothing has such power as a heart expressing its joy and delight in someone worthy. So it was now. "He looked at Jesus as He walked by and said, 'Behold, the Lamb of God!'" The greatest man ever born of a woman honours the Saviour with sincere respect. His own disciples hear him say it, and they follow Jesus. "He must increase, but I must decrease." And so it ought to be. Not John, but Jesus, is the centre. John was the servant of God's purpose, and his mission was carried out best when his disciples followed Jesus.

They heard John, but they followed Jesus. It seems they had listened unmoved to John's preaching on the earlier days. But the preaching of the third day flowed from a heart full of Christ, and it reached hearts that needed Him.

Look at the two disciples in John 1. John the Baptist's eye caught Jesus as He walked by. The sight fills him, and the words break out of him almost without his will: "Behold, the Lamb of God!" The Spirit of God carries these precious words home to the hearts of two of His disciples. It suddenly breaks in upon them what Christ was. By attaching them to Him, it detaches them at once from everything else — even from their religious teacher, often the hardest tie to break. "And they followed Jesus!"

"Two disciples of John heard him speak, and they followed Jesus." What a blessed effect, when the truth reaches the soul with power — though it is too often missing in us! They followed Him, not for anything more they could get from Him. They followed with a God-given longing that His presence alone could satisfy. And what a love this shows — the love of God come into this world in Christ! He had so completely won the confidence of these two hearts, and drawn them to Himself, that on the first day they ever knew Him they wanted one thing: to find out where He lived, so that they could live with Him… But what are we seeking? The heart was made for an object, a personal object, and only a divine one can satisfy it. So if we are not seeking Christ, we are surely seeking something that is not Christ.

Following Christ must mean more than believing in Christ. It surely involves believing, for a follower must be a believer, and yet a believer is not always a follower. To follow implies that He has become the great Object before the soul — the One who governs and controls the life. Is this lack of definite following not the secret of how little progress we make in our spiritual history? Does it not mark the difference between wholehearted devotion and half-heartedness?

The two disciples of John, hearing their master's heartfelt words of delight in the Lamb of God, follow Jesus, come and see at His invitation where He was staying, and stay with Him that day. The day was nearly over. The writer of this gospel could not forget the moment, always treasured in his heart: it was about the tenth hour… If I am not mistaken, we see here a remnant coming out of John's testimony to see Jesus and stay with Him. They go forward through John, yet beyond John, to live with Jesus where He lived, unknown to the world because it did not know Him. Such is the Christian's place, abiding with Jesus and following Him.

Nothing more delights the heart of Christ than the desires of the soul after Him. Drawn to Him, these two disciples would learn more of the One whose beauty had begun to dawn upon their souls. What they grasped so far was still feeble and inadequate. The Lord knew their weakness, and so He drew them on by His gentleness and grace. Reserve might have put two such timid men off; but He who does not quench the smoking flax will deepen their interest and desire.

In the case of the two disciples the Lord's testing question brings out the true motive, seen in their question, "Master, where do You dwell?" It becomes plain that they had not taken their place outside the Jewish system just to escape its corruptions. Nor had they come for some benefit for themselves. They came because they longed to be with One who had drawn their affection to Himself. The motive was not self, but Himself.

A title of respect among the Jews, meaning "master, teacher," though no one is known to have used it until the time of Herod the Great. Among the Jews the grades of honour rose from Rab to Rabbi, and then to Rabban or Rabboni. Jesus forbade the disciples to be called Rabbi, for one was their Master, even Christ (Matthew 23:8).

In the gospel of John the Lord, as "the Sent One," is intent on revealing the glories of the Father to the disciples — His Name, His Word, His love, His hand, His house. So it is significant that the first time this Gospel calls the Lord "Teacher" (John 1), a realm of affection is in view.

"Rabbi," they at once replied, "where do You dwell?" What a question to put to the Lamb of God, the Son of God! How it told of His humiliation! There was no need for anyone to ask where the high priest lived — everyone knew. The angelic hosts, too, surely knew where the incarnate One dwelt on earth. But who among men cared to know, or could have told those two, if asked, where He dwelt? Low indeed had He come, yet He came to bless hearts made ready to receive Him.

They followed Him, not for anything more that they could get from Him, but with a longing created by God that His presence alone could satisfy. And what it tells of the manner of the love shown in God come into this world in Christ! He had won the confidence of these two hearts completely, drawing them to Himself. So on the first day they ever knew Him, their one aim is to find out where He dwells, so that they may dwell with Him.

Jesus' dwelling-place was at Capernaum, a very ungodly city. It is called "his own city" in Matthew 9. What did they want? They wanted to know the spot where they would be sure of finding Him.

The Lord was a wanderer on this earth. We read in the other gospels that He had nowhere to lay His head. But in this gospel He has a dwelling-place, and His great delight is to lead the hearts of His own into it. No human language can describe that home. If you want to know it you must "come and see." It was in the bosom of the Father that He found His home.

Nothing more delights the heart of Christ than the desires of the soul after Him. These two disciples were drawn to Him. They would learn more of the One whose beauty had begun to dawn on their souls. Their grasp of Him was still weak and poor. The Lord knew their weakness, and so He draws them on by His gentleness and grace. They were timid, and a cool welcome could have driven them back. But He who does not quench the smoking flax will deepen their interest and desire.

The Lord was a wanderer on this earth. The other Gospels tell us He had nowhere to lay His head. But in this Gospel He has a dwelling-place. His great delight is to lead the hearts of His own into it. But no human words can describe that home. If you want to know it you must come and see for yourself. He found His home in the bosom of the Father. At that time no one knew that bosom but Himself.

As it has been said, we can have as much of Christ as we want. At once the Lord replies to these disciples, "Come and you will see." And we read, "So they came and saw where He was staying." Nothing in this world speaks of Christ. Whatever there may be in our homes, we may be sure that nothing in His home drew them away from Himself. They saw where He was staying and came to know Him in His own home. Knowing Him, they gladly stayed with Him that day. The Person who had drawn them outside was the One who held them there.

What cravings of the soul and spiritual needs were met and satisfied as they stayed with Him that day! Who but Himself could reveal the Lamb of God, whom John had announced to them? Where had He come from? Where was He going? Why was He born and why did He come into the world? How many difficulties disappeared that day! How much darkness fled away, while they stayed in the presence of "the Light of life"!

What a question to put to the Lamb of God, the Son of God! How it told of His humiliation! No one needed to ask where the high priest lived — everyone knew. But who among men cared to know, or could have told those two, if asked, where He was staying? "It was about the tenth hour" — that is, about 4 p.m.

It appears that the marginal annotators were reckoning time by the Jewish method, which was the tenth hour from sunrise. The other three Gospel writers use Jewish time, but John uses Roman time, counting from midnight and noon as we do. If we miss this, John 19:14 creates a difficulty. It says our Lord was still in the hall before Pilate at the sixth hour. Yet the other Gospels tell us He was on the cross at that time. This "tenth hour" was probably ten o'clock in the morning.

The tenth hour left two hours of the day. Oh, those two hours with Jesus! I ask you, have you ever spent two hours with Jesus? I am sure that if you have, you have come out and tried to take somebody else back to enjoy what you enjoyed. These disciples did. Individual testimony comes out at once, and let me tell you that quiet personal testimony is often worth far more than public preaching.

There is no doubt about the joy of His own heart in inviting them to "Come and you will see." We are not told where the Lord was living at this time. What matters more to us is that this is a picture of His eternal dwelling. They stayed with Him only that day, but "we shall dwell with God's Beloved through God's eternal day."

The testimony to His work now follows the declaration of who He is. So the two disciples heard John speak, and followed Jesus. But we miss the force of this unless we see who gave that testimony. The Lord Jesus Himself said that of all who are born of women, none was greater than His messenger, John the Baptist. Yet the effect of John's word is that the disciples leave him for Jesus. "Behold, the Lamb of God!" had sunk into their hearts. Now we see this blessed result: they followed Jesus.

We see the effect of such a ministry in the two disciples who heard John speak. They heard John, but they followed Jesus. On the earlier days they seem to have listened to John unmoved. But on the third day his ministry flowed from a heart that was full of Christ, and it reached hearts that needed Him.

Andrew is now named as one of the two men. The other was very likely John, who wrote this Gospel. He never names himself in it, though he loves to speak of the faith and devotion of others.

The apostle who writes this tells us that one of these two was Andrew, but with characteristic modesty he omits to mention who the other was, because it was himself.

Andrew is a Greek name, as Philip is in another case, and it seems to match the Hebrew name Adam. He was Simon's brother, and he was the means of leading him to the Lord, as we read in John 1, before their public call. Simon later became far more famous than Andrew himself.

In a watch we see the hands doing their work out toward the world... But do they move themselves? No. Round at the back, hidden away and hard to find, is the fusee — a small wheel whose cogs move them... So Simon Peter, like the hands of the watch, did his work mainly in public, and Andrew did his, like the fusee, out of sight. Simon Peter preached to the crowds and brought thousands to Christ. But it was Andrew who gave the first push, by bringing Simon himself to Christ. It seemed a small, private service. Yet if we think of what Peter later accomplished, we see that it had a vast result.

Then comes the proper outcome of staying with Christ — finding others for Christ. So we read that one of them goes out from that holy place to find his own brother Simon, and having found him, "he brought him to Jesus". He did not bring him just to an outside place, nor to a group in that outside place, but to a Person, to Jesus.

We hear Andrew's voice only three times in the Gospels. First, he tells Simon about Jesus. Next, he tells the Lord about the "five barley loaves and two fish". Last, he tells Jesus that some Gentiles want to see Him. On the first day he went off to get Peter. We hear very little of Andrew after this, but a great deal of Peter... He was probably not a great preacher, and you may not be either. But he loved Jesus, and so he brought his brother to Him.

There is a simplicity in this that catches our attention. Andrew spoke with such excitement not about a new religion or a new doctrine, but about a Person. The Eternal Son was present on earth — the long-promised Christ — and Andrew had come to know Him. He then longed that his brother should know Him also.

The Jews and Samaritans were expecting the Messiah, "who is called Christ." The Hebrew word is mashiach and means "anointed." The same word is used of the high priest and of the king as God's anointed. But the Lord Jesus is "the Anointed" in the fullest sense, and that is what the title "the Christ" means. It refers to the Lord as Man, anointed with the Holy Spirit.

All the way through the Old Testament there was the promise of the Messiah. He was meant to heal Israel, and the nations of the earth, for God. The promise centred on His coming — the seed of the woman, the seed of Abraham and David. So when they said, "We have found the Christ," it meant they had come to the Person able to hold everything for God.

I love that little word "first." It was already long past the "tenth hour." The day was done. But Andrew did not stop for food or drink or rest, or anything else. He hurried off to hunt for "his own brother."

Some editors take "first" with "he": Tischendorf, Meyer, Godet and Zahn. Others take it with "brother": Tregelles, Alford, Westcott and Hort. The Evangelist hints here, without saying it outright, that he followed Andrew's example and brought his own brother to Jesus.

It is beautiful to see how Andrew goes at once to testify of the One he had found, and he begins at home. "He first found his own brother Simon." He begins from the centre, and works out to the circumference.

Why is it that the lips of even earnest souls are so often sealed in front of their own relatives? It may be very important for me to carry the Gospel to unbelievers far away, or to give money to help such an excellent work. But my first responsibility is towards my own brother.

What a lovely sentence that is: "He brought him to Jesus"! He brought him to the One who had satisfied his own heart. In Him is all love, all grace, all tenderness, and all power. In short, he brought him to the One whom all sinners need, and the One who is enough for all.

Just take him by the hand, and try Andrew's sermon. And just do as Andrew did: "he brought him to Jesus." Mind you do this. Do not bring him to what men call the church, or to any sect or party on earth.

Simon Peter, like the hands of a watch, did his work mostly in public. Andrew did his out of sight, like the fusee — the small hidden wheel whose cogs move the hands. Simon Peter preached to the crowds and brought thousands to Christ. But it was Andrew who gave the first push, by bringing Simon himself to Christ. It seemed a small individual service; but if we think of what Peter afterwards accomplished, we see that it had a vast result.

There follows the proper outcome of staying with Christ — the finding of others for Christ. So we read that one of them goes out from that holy place to find his own brother Simon. Having found him, "he brought him to Jesus." He did not bring him only to an outside place, nor to a company in that outside place, but to a Person, to Jesus.

I never heard of Andrew preaching, and you hear little more of him in the Gospels. But when you get up into the glory one day, and see the Lord giving out the rewards, I think you will find that a big reward will be Andrew's. Do you not see that he was the means of the conversion of the man most used by God in those early gospel days, in bringing blessing to others?

"You are Simon" — then the Lord knew him, and knew what he was, though they had never met before. "You shall be" — then He was also able to foretell the future. Who could do these two things but God? Years afterwards Simon had to confess to the Lord, "You know all things." His first experience of that was at this first interview.

In telling Simon his name and his father's name, the Lord shows him that he is in the presence of One who knows his whole history from the moment of his birth. So at the start of his spiritual life Peter learns that the Lord knows the whole of his history as a sinner, and yet claims him as His own for ever.

Simon was a ready talker, usually the first of the disciples to speak. But when Andrew brought him to Jesus he did not get the first word. Great kings asserted their ownership over servants and slaves by changing their names, as we see with Daniel and his three friends. In the same way, when Simon came to Jesus He asserted His claim over him. But by giving him a name which meant "a stone," He did more than this. He took him over for the building that He had in view, a building Simon knew nothing about at that moment.

Simon stands in His presence with no priest or apostle in between, no law or ritual, no church or temple. There Simon the sinner hears the words of grace: "You are Simon" — his name in nature — "you shall be called Cephas," a stone, or Peter, his new name in grace, in connection with Himself the Rock. Petros means a stone; Petra means a rock.

The name that He gives to Simon declares his destiny rather than his character. He was a stone. A stone for a great and imperishable building which is now being prepared, made up of living stones. Every believer is what the Lord declared Simon to be. Each has become this by coming to Christ, the Living Stone (see 1 Peter 2).

The name "Peter" means "stone." Its significance is this: it connected him with the church that Christ, the Son of the living God, was about to build. So the "Rock" on which the church rests lay in Christ Himself. Peter was no rock. Indeed he seems to have been the most impulsive and easily swayed of the disciples — see Galatians 2:11-13. He was only a stone. There is no excuse for confusing him with the Rock, because the Lord marked the difference in the words He chose.

Jesus Himself took the first step and found Philip, as verse 43 shows. He introduced Himself with two words: "Follow Me." Those two words were clearly enough. They presented Him to Philip as the LEADER, who has the right to command loyal obedience from each and all.

With Philip things were different. He was not drawn to the Lord in the same way, because the Lord had to command him to follow Him. We never read that he reached the place Andrew reached. But there is no doubt that any contact with the Lord must have blessed him.

We are going through a wilderness. We have to pass through a world full of traps, and many of them are hard to spot. So we need more than a centre to work towards. We need a path to follow. Where will we find the true path for our souls? Not when we get to heaven. There we will need no way, because everything there is good and bright. But here, where everything is wrong and enemies of every kind surround you, you need a way that never fails. Where can we find such a path? My answer: in the Saviour... He Himself is the path, the only true way for the Christian. Whatever comes — whatever difficulties or trials — find out what the will of the Lord is. The moment you submit to His will, you follow Him. To obey His word in faith is to follow Him.

It is a huge thing when Jesus rescues us from the waste of our own will, or from a heart tied to the will of someone stronger than us. It is a huge thing to know that in Him we have found not just the Messiah, but the centre of everything God has revealed, planned and purposed. So we gather with Him because we gather to Him. Everything else, whatever it claims for itself, only scatters. It is wasted work, or worse.

On the third day, people became disciples of the Lord through the testimony of John the Baptist and of Andrew. Did the Lord discourage that? On the contrary, by calling Philip Himself on the fourth day He showed that it was the right thing at that time. And those words "Follow Me" were words of power to Philip. He asked no questions. He joined the little group linked on earth with the Son of God. But Philip, like Andrew, wanted others to share the blessing. When he found Nathanael, he could not stay silent.

Verse 43 introduces another day. That day fittingly pictures the regathering of the godly in Israel in the last days, after the church has been caught up to be with the Lord. Galilee reminds us of this godly remnant... The church of God began with a small core of godly Israelites. The restoration of Israel at the end of the tribulation will be the same: in both cases they come from the same root.

In the first chapter of John, Jesus said to Philip, "Follow me." In the last chapter He says to Peter, "Follow me." The first call came before the cross. The disciples had left everything to follow Him, because they had faith in Him. But when Calvary came, their steps faltered, and they all ran away.

It was a wonderful scene, beside Galilee's blue lake at Bethsaida, "The House of Fish," or as others put it, "The Place of Nets." Simon and Andrew lived there (John 1:44). With their partners James and John, and their father Zebedee, they worked at their trade along with their hired servants. Clearly they had a good large fishing business.

He is mentioned as being of Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter (John 1:44). It is more than probable that he was among the Galileans of that district who flocked to hear the preaching of John the Baptist. People spoke of no part of Palestine with such contempt as Galilee. Yet our Lord chose His apostles from these despised Galileans, who were simple, earnest, and devoted. "Search and look," said the Pharisees, "for out of Galilee arises no prophet." But sweeping statements are generally untrue. "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" is a sample of the same thing.

On the next day He decided to go to Galilee, and Jesus finds Philip and says to him, Follow me. It is an immense thing to be delivered by Jesus from the waste of one's own will, or from having your heart tied to the will of a man stronger than yourself. It is an immense thing to know that we have found in Him not merely the Messiah, but the centre of all God's revelations, plans, and purposes. So we gather with Him because we gather to Him.

With Philip things were different. He was not drawn to the Lord in the same way, for the Lord had to command him to follow Him. But beyond doubt he must have been blessed through coming into contact with the Lord in any way.

We find these two men go out to bring others to the One whom they had found. It must always be so when real blessing is received. Its course is outward and onward to others. If there is no desire in your heart to see others blessed, we greatly doubt whether you have received the blessing yourself. One thing is absolutely certain — you are not enjoying it.

That city had a day of visitation. It had been greatly favoured. The Lord had done His mighty works there beyond the common measure. And Andrew, Peter, and Philip, three of the Lord's apostles, had belonged to that town (see John 1:44). But such favour, such a day of merciful, gracious visitation, had been slighted. The place had not turned to Him who had blessed it. It had not repented (Matt. 11:20).

There is a question whether there were two places of this name, as Trench thought. One would be on the western shore of the lake, in Galilee, and another on the eastern shore, in Gaulonitis. Thomson held that there was only one. We meet the name again in John 12:21, where "Galilee" is added as if to distinguish it.

The earliest disciples had just found a heavenly joy. Eager and generous with it, they want to tell the news and bring others to share the presence of Jesus with them. This is how Nathanael comes into the scene… Philip had already shared the joy with Andrew, Peter and others. Now he delights to pass it on to Nathanael.

As with Andrew, so with Philip, he wanted others to share in the blessing. When he found Nathanael, he could not keep silent… Andrew spoke to his brother Simon about the Messiah. Philip's testimony was much fuller. He named the prophet like Moses, the theme of prophecy, Jesus son of Joseph, and Nazareth as well. John the Baptist was not the prophet of Deuteronomy 18:15. Philip, however, was sure he had now met Him.

John records "Moses in the Law and also the prophets wrote" as a known and accepted truth; the Psalms equally so.

Nathanael was not at all prepared for this. His heart truly did look for the One of whom Moses and the prophets wrote. But that the Christ was Jesus from Nazareth, the son of Joseph, he had yet to learn… It had never occurred to him how the Messiah could be "from Nazareth," let alone "the son of Joseph." Even a despised Galilean looked down on that village… If Philip had said "from Bethlehem, the son of David," the expecting Jew would have felt no such shock. But in truth, this passage shows the Lord as wholly above all earthly associations, and so He could come down to the lowest.

Philip followed and became a seeker of others, though he did not yet know much. To Nathanael he could only speak of "Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph." That was neither a very lofty nor a very accurate description of the One he had just begun to follow. At first it slightly prejudiced Nathanael: still, it was enough to lead him to a meeting with the Lord.

If you compare this testimony with Andrew's, you will see the difference at once. Nor was it so successful. Nathanael objected at once: "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Only Philip's next words drew him to Jesus: "Come and see. Prove it for yourself before you judge."

Philip was wiser than to argue the point, and is ready with the kind and practical invitation, "Come and see."

How many since Philip's day have gone through what he found! They were blessed in their own soul, and the question of salvation was clear to them. So they thought everyone would listen to their testimony and accept it too. But disappointment, perhaps keen disappointment, awaited them. They had spoken to dull and even deaf ears, and spoken in vain. The reason was not hard to find. Those they spoke to had never known personal dealings with Christ.

It was the well-understood language of contempt in that day: He should, in other words, be called a Nazarene. Nazareth was the most scorned of places. The men of Judea looked down on Nazareth. The Galileans despised it too, even though it was part of their own district. Later we read of an Israelite with no deceit in him. When he heard of Jesus being there, he exclaimed, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" So if one spot in Palestine matched the rejection Christ received more than any other did, it was Nazareth.

A place not even named in the Old Testament. In Galilee, too. And a village that produced so little good that it had quite a bad name among those who knew it. For Nazareth to be the home of Israel's Saviour strained Nathanael's mind almost to refusal. Philip's wise reply led him to come and see. Was he disappointed? Does God ever disappoint the man or the woman who is content to receive and learn Christ in the unexpected place?

He believed in the glory of the Messiah's Person, as far as the Old Testament had revealed it in advance. But it had never occurred to him that the Messiah could be "from Nazareth," let alone "the Son of Joseph." Even a Galilean, a man others already looked down on, thought that village contemptible... If Philip had said "from Bethlehem, the Son of David," the waiting Jew would have felt no such shock. But in truth, the Lord stands here wholly above all earthly ties, and so He could come down to the lowest.

He does not hide that Christ had come from Nazareth, a place people despised. No doubt Nathanael's objection voiced the common prejudice of the Jews.

His answer — "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" — is not the language of popular prejudice. Such words may well have been common on the lips of scorners. But this is the language of a soul just emerging from a place where deep searching had led to some humbling and unsettling experiences in the heart and conscience. ... So he went at once when Philip called him. He would walk to Nazareth, for a soul convicted of its own sin can call nothing common or unclean except itself. If Nazareth is vile, Nathanael in his own eyes is viler still.

How wisely Philip met him! Argument would never have convinced Nathanael. But Philip knew what time spent with Christ had done for him. So he answered quietly, "Come and see."

Nor was it so remarkably successful, for we find that Nathanael at once began to object, saying, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" And it was not until Philip said, "Come and see. Prove it for yourself before you judge," that Nathanael was drawn to Jesus.

How that little word "Nazareth" came between Nathanael and the Son of God! But when he sees Jesus, he finds that Philip has not said half enough, and falls down in worship at once.

How beautiful, if someone has criticism about the Lord Jesus, to say, Come and see. But how often, sadly, we do not have the strength to say "Come and see", because what do people see in us? ... Can I say to everyone in my neighbourhood, "Come and see", when it comes to the Lord Jesus?

That is not equivalent to saying "In whom is no sin." Guile is sin, it is true, yet there is much sin that is not guile. Guile is hypocrisy, empty pretence, unreality, a lack of uprightness and honesty. Nathanael was a man who, though a sinner, was honest.

In the case of Nathanael (John 1) the Lord seems to have had a silent glance at Psalm 32. That Psalm reveals the secret of having "no guile" in the spirit: confession of all the secrets that might try to hide themselves before God, and pardon meeting them. Nathanael, we may judge, had been confessing in this way. The fig tree is always the symbol of repentance. The Lord sees him in the light of this Psalm.

How can a soul that is truly unburdening itself in the fear of God be full of guile? Does not its very relief depend on the completeness and truthfulness of its confessions? Would it be what it is if there were any pretending or concealing?

So He greets Nathanael on the ground of God's estimate of him: "Behold an Israelite indeed in whom is no guile." He greets him as He greeted Gideon in his day: "The LORD is with you, O mighty man of valor." In God's esteem the poor threshing man of Manasseh was a mighty man of valour, for God had purposed it so. And so, in the reckoning of the mind of Christ, Nathanael was a guileless Israelite. In a divine way he had been acquiring that name under the fig tree. By that name the Son of God knows him.

Again Jesus took the initiative. By His opening words about Nathanael He revealed Himself as the Discerner of the hearts of men. Here was an Israelite, not without sin, but without guile — that is, without deceit or dishonesty. Here was a man who was straight and honest in his spirit before God, and Jesus knew it. The Lord was showing Himself to be the Judge of all, before whom every man lies open and exposed, and who can put every man in his proper place... Nathanael came to see Jesus of Nazareth, and he discovered One who knew all about him and read him through like an open book. Who could this Jesus be?

But if someone has nothing to hide, then he does not fear the light. No doubt Nathanael illustrates this in John 1:47-48. Having "no guile," no deceitful covering up of evil, he could come with confidence to the Lord Jesus. Certainly in coming to Him one finds himself exposed as he really is, and honesty does not object to this.

Jacob was a crooked man, always trying to gain by craft what it was God's purpose to give him by grace. In other words, he was a man full of guile. But by the end of God's ways with him, Jacob's character showed three marks: self-judgment, spiritual understanding and worship. The remnant of Israel will be brought to the same end. God's chastening will purify them in practice, and at the same time show their integrity, for in all their trouble they will cling to the LORD.

He is God always and everywhere in this Gospel. Unseen, Jesus had seen Nathanael. He had seen him in a place where Nathanael must have thought no one could see him. But He who heard the thoughts of his heart in that spot "under the fig tree" saw him. This was the unanswerable evidence of His own glory, of omniscience, and omnipresence. Yet the One who saw him was plainly a man in flesh and blood. He could be no one else than the promised Messiah, Immanuel... the "ruler in Israel, whose coming forth is from of old, from ancient days" (Micah 5:2). His prejudice vanished at once, like mist before the sun in its strength.

I believe Nathanael's "guilelessness" was the guilelessness of this Psalm, not just his natural character. He had been under the fig tree in the spirit of this Psalm. There he poured out his heart as a man convicted of his sin, and that freed his spirit from guile. Here we learn that a confessing spirit is a guileless spirit. Jesus had been in the secret of his soul while he was under the tree.

I believe "under the fig tree" was a place of complete secrecy. There he dealt with the Lord about his sins. No one can be without guile until he knows his sins are forgiven. "Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered." "Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit."

Under the fig tree, I believe, he had been confessing himself a sinner and thinking over his condition before God. It is the spirit of confession which, in God's reckoning, makes us "guileless". That is the character in which the Lord recognises Nathanael... So the Lord had already been with him in spirit before Philip called him. The longings of an awakened soul are always dear to Him.

That question drew out an answer. It settled every doubt in his mind for ever: "Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you." Nathanael was won. Alone under the tree with God, Jesus of Nazareth had seen him... What did it matter to Nathanael now where the Lord had lived! All his prejudice vanished in a moment.

The fig tree is not just a fact or an isolated detail. It carries the meaning it usually has in Scripture. In our Lord's great prophecy the fig tree stands for the nation, and one cannot doubt it does so here. Suppose Nathanael was there thinking before God about the expected Messiah and the hopes of the chosen people... Then we can better imagine how forcefully the words of Jesus struck the heart and conscience of this guileless Israelite.

Nathanael brings out His glories in John 1. There Christ is the One who knows everything. I believe "under the fig tree" was a place of complete secrecy. There he dealt with the Lord about his sins. No one can be free of deceit until he knows his sins are forgiven. "Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered." "Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit."

The fig tree here is not just a fact or an isolated detail... In the Lord's great prophecy the fig tree stands as the symbol of the nation, and one cannot doubt it does here... It was a confession of the Messiah exactly as Psalm 2 presents Him. He might be Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph; but He could be, He was, none other than "My (Jehovah's) king," "the Son" (Psalm 2:6, 12), though not yet anointed on Zion, Jehovah's holy hill.

With the deceit gone from his soul, he sees everything clearly. He confesses Christ as the Son of God and the King of Israel. These are the two titles under which, according to Psalm 2, the Jewish nation rejected Christ. In the court of the high priest, the nation denied that Christ was the Son of God; in the court of Pilate, they rejected His claim to be the King of Israel.

He is "the Son of God," and He is also "the King of Israel." As a sincere and godly Israelite he was waiting for the King, and he would have been inclined to put all the emphasis there. But he stood in front of this Judge of men, this Searcher of hearts. So the whole emphasis fell on this: He must be the Son of God. And if that, then the King of Israel. Then note how in verse 50 Jesus accepted Nathanael's homage as not misplaced but as the fruit of faith.

Nathanael owned Him as Son of God and King of Israel. But our Lord replied to him, "You will see greater things than these… From now on" — that is how it should read — "you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man." He meant: My title in Israel is a small thing, but you will see Psalm 8 fulfilled.

For many Christians the Son of God's Kingship over Israel is a dead letter. They say Israel is a broken vessel that will never be used again. So they speak of His "reigning in the hearts of His spiritual people." But His death was to attest that He is "the King of the Jews," not "the King of the Church." Scripture never describes Him that way.

Someone who came to God by faith, not in the appointed place but under a fig tree, could stand before God in holy confidence — a true Israelite with no deceit in him. That was Nathanael, taught by God, recognising Jesus at once as Son of God and King of Israel. He is a sample of Israel in the days to come, when the nation takes its place of nearness to God under the covenant, as a kingdom of priests and a holy nation, by recognising Jesus as the Son — the sacrifice and the priest.

Nathanael recognised that Jesus had supernatural power. He could tell him exactly what was in his heart, and He saw him when nobody else saw him. But He was going to tell him greater things. There must be more: "You will see greater things."

The Lord did not check the flow of grace and truth. Nathanael had to borrow many vessels, until there was not one more to receive the blessing that would still overflow… These are truly "greater things." From then on Nathanael saw a pledge of them in the way God's angels waited on the One whom man despised and the nation hated. Their contempt brought them shame and ruin. But through it God worked out His heavenly purposes, and a far larger sphere of blessing and glory than in Israel or the land.

Nathanael acknowledged Him as Son of God and King of Israel. But our Lord replied to him, "You will see greater things than these… Henceforth" (as it should read), "you will see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man." That is: My title in Israel is a small thing, but you will see Psalm 8 fulfilled.

The Lord recognises the faith of Nathanael, drawn out by the Lord's own words. Nathanael has confessed Christ, according to Psalm 2. The Lord now announces to him His further glory as the Son of Man, according to Psalm 8. As the Son of Man He will be set over all the works of God's hands, with all things put in subjection under Him. If the earth beneath will be in subjection under Him, the heavens above will be opened over Him. The angels find their glorious object of service in Christ on earth, and they will establish relations between heaven and earth.

The fig tree, under which the Lord saw Nathanael, was the symbol of Judaism. The terms of his confession are found in Psalm 2, and they are applied to Christ in His Jewish relations. They mark Nathanael as representing the Jewish remnant.

The titles "King of Israel" and "Son of God" in this special character will come to an end. The old world will pass away, and the new world will come in. There will be no Israel any more in the new, eternal world. There will be no King of Israel in eternity. This is the sense of the words, "You will see greater things"… But as the glorified Man He will be the object of our adoration for ever.

The gathering work had already started in a small way with Andrew and Peter, Philip and Nathanael, and it was going to go on and grow. About that work He said to Nathanael, "You will see greater things than these." Well, blessed be God, so we shall… We are going to see Christ in His central place of authority, ruling in power. All things will be subject to Him, and the whole church of God will be joined with Him in His glory.

Nathanael acknowledged Him as Son of God and King of Israel. But our Lord replied to him, "You will see greater things than these … Henceforth" (so it should read), "you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man." That is: My title in Israel is a small thing, but you will see Psalm 8 fulfilled.

In the Gospel of John the title "the Son of Man" appears from the very start, because the Gospel already views Christ as rejected... Christ's glory will be great when He reigns in a future day as King in Zion among a restored Israel, and His people are willing in the day of His power. His wider glories as the Son of Man will infinitely surpass all of it. Then His name will be excellent in all the earth. All will acknowledge His dominion over every people and over all created things, and everything that has breath will praise Him.

But the Lord tells him of greater things he should see... henceforth (not "hereafter," but henceforth) you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man. It is the wider, universal glory of the Son of Man (according to Psalm 8). But the most striking part of it was true from that very moment, because of the glory of His person. His person did not need the day of glory to command the attendance of the angels of God.

The angels of God were not first descending on the Son of Man. They were first ascending from Him, and then descending on Him. He was the point the angels went from and returned to.

Angels are now the servants of One who is a Man — "it was not to angels that God subjected the world to come," but to MAN... You will see the Son of Man at the central exchange of divine authority; His word is law, His angels do His bidding in all quarters of His universe.

This will be the fulfilment of Jacob's dream in Genesis 28:12. It shows restored communication between heaven and earth, once cut off by the corruption of sin. But Christ Himself is the Mediator, and in Him the restoration is accomplished. His worldwide title, "Son of Man," takes in not only Israel but all mankind.

Christ has Jacob's place, not the ladder's. Jacob was at the foot of the ladder, and these messengers were coming down and going up from God to him, and from him to God. Now God's angels would have the Son of Man as the object of their service from an open heaven. There is no ladder in view.

Whenever the heavens open, it is in connection with Christ. When He was on earth, "the heavens were opened to Him." At last heaven could look down and see on earth One in whom the Father found all His delight. After the ascension, Stephen can say, "I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God." The heavens are opened now so that believers on earth can look up and see a Man in the glory... In the future we will still see the "heavens open," so that angels may wait on Christ — the Son of Man. This will be in the days of His reign, when heaven will be in touch with earth.

The two testimonies to Christ that had to be given in this world, both gathering people to Him as the centre, had now been given: John's, and that of Jesus taking His place in Galilee with the remnant. These were the two days of God's dealings with Israel here on earth. The third day we find in chapter 2. A marriage takes place in Galilee. Jesus is there, and He turns the water kept for purification into the wine of joy for the wedding feast. Now blessing and judgment arrive.

That the marriage took place on the third day points plainly to this. The third day may mean the time of blessing — and of judgment too, if we add the cleansing of the temple — that follows the two days of testimony... Or it may mean, as it so often does, resurrection. In that case it pictures how the blessing of the earthly people, like that of the heavenly people, can only come through resurrection. Grasp what this marriage stands for — a real marriage, picked out to carry this meaning — and you hold the key to the story.

Here Galilee speaks of the return of blessing to Israel, and Cana still shows us how the blessing is regained. The "marriage" in this setting takes us back to the language of the Old Testament prophets. They picture Israel's tie to Jehovah in the past like this: broken by her sin, but to be restored again in a fuller and more glorious way (see Hosea 2). That will be the resurrection time of the nation, and no doubt the "third day" mentioned here speaks of it (Hosea 6:2)... Along with this, the "mother of Jesus" is here. She can only picture Israel, from whom Christ came as to the flesh (Rom. 9:5). And the disciples of Jesus coming with Him to the marriage point to people brought closer to Him, into a higher order of blessing than the Jewish bride herself.

In verse 1 we see a social occasion that the mother of Jesus belongs to. In verse 2 we see Jesus and His disciples forming a distinct circle apart from the world. They are called to the marriage; and in response, the Lord graces the occasion with His presence, so putting His approval on a relationship that God Himself set up.

How instructive is the grace that lit up marriage with love and holiness from above! God set it up in the paradise where man began, but after the fall it easily sinks into frivolity and loose living. The law failed to recover it. The Lord alone upheld it, in line with the mind of God expressed before the law was given (Gen. 2; Matt. 19).

This bridegroom and bride were poor, and the man they had appointed to run the feast had no resources of his own. Yet they were highly favoured people, because with Jesus at their feast they lacked nothing. Their Guest became the Servant of their need. He raised the joy of their wedding day to a level they could never have known if He had not been there.

There was something almost automatic about this wedding. The relatives and the friends came automatically, if I may use that word; even the mother of Jesus is part of that movement. She was there; it was an ordinary matter... but not so with Jesus; He was invited... we observe that a special place is made for Christ. He was invited. Now if Christ is truly invited He must be supreme — and everything must be under His blessed hand. So we find there is one blessed Person whose glory shines out. It is not the bridegroom, it is not the bride.

Unlike John the Baptist, the man who announced Him, our Lord did not live a life of harsh self-denial. He was the most accessible and gracious of men. Marriage is a divine institution; He would show His respect for it by His presence at its celebration when called.

What instructive grace this is! From above, He lit up with love and holiness an institution of God that began in the paradise of man. Since the fall of man, it tends to sink into frivolity and loose living. The law failed to recover it. The Lord alone upheld it, according to the mind of God that He had made known before the law.

This was the occasion when He showed His glory. He broke the natural association, and showed that glory in connection with what He had come to do in His Father's will: He had new ones now, His own. But notice the perfection of our blessed Lord. He did not walk separate by avoiding the circumstances. He walked separate by the perfect agreement of His own heart with the Father's will. Not only here — His mother and His brothers also went down with Him to Capernaum.

In verse 1 we see a social occasion with which the mother of Jesus is connected. In verse 2 we see Jesus and His disciples forming a distinct circle apart from the world. They are called to the marriage. In response, the Lord graces the occasion with His presence.

In Revelation 19, verses 7 and 8 give us the wife of the Lamb. Then verse 9 says: "Blessed are those who are invited" (the same word used in John 2:2) "to the marriage supper of the Lamb." So we have a group who are invited. They are not the wife, but the called — the guests at the marriage supper.

To this marriage in Cana the Lord had been invited as a Guest. But at the close of it He becomes the Host, providing and handing out the wine... And by this easy, gracious action, He turns the mere marriage feast of Cana into a mystery, and makes it the occasion for showing His glory... The steward sends to the bridegroom who had invited them, as though he were the one. But it was Jesus who provided the joy of the place. He is still keeping "the good wine" for His people until the last — until all other joy is over.

This bridegroom and bride were poor. The ruler of the feast they had appointed was a man without resources. Yet they were highly favoured people, for with Jesus at their feast they lacked nothing. Their Guest became the Servant of their need. He raised the joy of their wedding day to a level they could not have known without Him.

Apart from the teaching about God's future dealings with Israel, the marriage at Cana holds a great moral lesson: all things on earth fail to give lasting joy. Marriage is the greatest occasion in the life of a natural man. He rightly seeks to make it a time of festivity and joy. Sadly, the wine of human joy runs out. Man is incapable of securing his own happiness... In the brightest moment of life, something will spoil complete happiness. The dread of what tomorrow may bring hangs over the joy of the passing day.

The first Adam always fails, and fails most where most is needed. But Jesus will meet every need, though His time is not yet come. Faith, however, never looks to Him in vain.

Why turn to Him? Surely she hoped He would act. Yet we know of no earlier display of miraculous power to encourage her to expect it. And verse 11 of our chapter seems to show there had been none. But the Lord's answer shows she did have that expectation. He, of course, read her thoughts.

The mother of Jesus was there. Her character comes out in this incident: she was observant and compassionate. Things were not going well and she sensed it. There was a great lack at that feast. The young people were beginning to feel embarrassed, and she saw it. For their sakes she speaks to the Lord. It is more than likely that she had often turned to Him in her own need; now she speaks to Him of the need of others.

When the wine failed, His mother said to Him, "They have no wine." He replied, "Woman, what have I to do with you? My hour has not yet come." This is written for lasting profit. Anyone who reads disrespect into these words is mistaken. But so are those who fail to learn that the Son of God firmly refuses direction where the divine glory is in question. He was sent to do the will of God His Father, not to please His mother. Here she showed kind concern for a family she was clearly close to, at a moment when their trouble engaged her feelings.

And Mary understood it, saying to the servants, "Do whatever He tells you." She was still the humble servant of the Lord, even though others make her the Queen of heaven. That is blasphemy: they falsely claim for her the honour due to the Eternal Son. He, not she, is the One above all to be heard.

But a marriage still to come for Israel, raised as a nation from the dead, must bring up the thought of her broken vows and the long delay of blessing. The feast, which should have been continuous for her, has failed; the wine has run out. The mother of Jesus stands for the nation in the flesh. She is aware in some sense of her condition, and she appeals to Him vaguely, as we see in this Gospel.

It is a law of nature, so to speak: worldly joy decreases. At the marriage in Cana the master of the feast was astonished. He had to admit that everyone serves the good wine first, and the poor wine after people have drunk freely. The quality of the wine gets worse. By contrast, the joy that the Lord Jesus gives increases more and more.

Notice His language on the cross, when He spoke to her and said, "Woman, behold, your son!" (19:26). That will clear the reader's mind of the idea that He answered her at the marriage in any insulting way. He addressed the Syrophoenician woman the same way when He commended her faith (Matt. 15:28). The angels used it to Mary at the tomb — "Woman, why are you weeping?" — and so did the Lord (John 20:13, 15). We believe, then, that no one in that house would have thought badly of the way He spoke to His mother. ... He spoke of her as His mother, but never, as far as we remember, addressed her so.

"What is there (in common) between Me and you?" Blass remarks that this was "frequent in colloquial Greek of the time, quite in the meaning of our let me alone."

Jesus had already told His mother that He must be about His Father's business. He came to do His Father's will, and He did it at every step in communion with the Father — in timing and in manner... So He could not take a suggestion from Mary about what He should do. By making it, Mary was stepping into ground that belonged to the Father and the Son alone. No one can deny that her words came from kindness, or that they showed her belief in the power of Jesus. But in the sphere of Christ's complete devotedness only one voice could be heard: the voice of Him whose will He had come to do.

We may be sure He rebuked her with great tenderness, in a way that would not humiliate her in front of others. But it was not for her to direct Him... "My hour has not yet come" was a mysterious word that runs through this Gospel... it reached far beyond that marriage feast, but it did not mean that He would not step in for the present need.

Chapter 7:30 and 8:20 give us the clue. They speak of "His hour." He said "My hour" to His mother. Should we not conclude that all three point to the same time? It is the hour when He would be subject to men's will, submitting to human control... So at that time He would not allow His mother to direct or control Him.

The Lord's making John the guardian of His mother explains, "what have I to do with you? My hour has not yet come." But when His hour had come, and He had done the work, He could turn to recognise the relationship, since He was no longer engaged in serving His Father on earth.

Nowhere does Scripture speak of her standing between God and sinful men, or praying for them. In the sacred records Mary asks the Lord for a favour only twice. Each time He turned her away as stepping out of her appointed place. See John 2:4; Matt. 12:46-50. Our last view of her is in Acts 1:14, as one of the praying group in Jerusalem who waited for the Holy Spirit after the Lord Jesus went on high. Not praying FOR her fellow believers, but WITH them.

His mother connected the Lord with Israel and the law. By refusing to act at her word, He shows where everything He did in this Gospel came from. It flowed from His relationship as the Son with the Father — not from natural ties to His mother, and not from legal ties to Israel.

The words of Jesus to His mother had their intended effect. This is clear from two things. She attempted no reply. And she still counted on Jesus stepping in and showing His power, for she said to the servants, "Do whatever He tells you." This is very beautiful. Her deep affection may have drawn her out of her proper place, and perhaps her wish to see her Son acknowledged in public. If so, she took her quiet place again the moment the Lord had spoken. She was still looking for some shining out of His more than human glory. And she told the servants to give Him unquestioning obedience.

Jesus had already told His mother that He must be about His Father's business. He had come to do His Father's will. He did that will at every step in communion with the Father, in timing and in manner alike. As He Himself said, "The Son can do nothing of His own accord, but only what He sees the Father doing. For whatever the Father does, that the Son does likewise." It was impossible, then, for Him to receive a suggestion from Mary about what He should do.

And Mary understood it. She said to the servants, "Do whatever He tells you." She was still the lowly bondservant of the Lord. That stays true even though others blasphemously make her the Queen of heaven, falsely claiming for her the honour due to the Eternal Son. He, not she, is the One above all to be heard, as the Father's voice announced on the holy mountain: "This is my beloved Son; listen to Him." Nothing in fallen nature is more unworthy than to doubt the grace of the One in whom all the fullness dwells. Nothing is more unworthy than to imagine that He, the one Mediator, needs her intercession to stir up or strengthen His love. He Himself is full of grace and truth. She, for her part, could not save anyone, nor intercede for others in that way. She needed to pray herself, since she was a sinner like others, to be saved by faith.

He only looked for a willing obedience to His word; then He would work. His mother's words must have impressed these servants, and their obedience was truly admirable. "Fill the water pots," He said, and they filled them to the brim. "Draw some out now and take it to the master of the feast," He said, and they took it. No doubts or questions entered their minds. It was enough that He commanded, and they obeyed with enthusiasm. This willing and unquestioning obedience is an indispensable condition for blessing.

It is the servants, and only they, who are brought into connection with the Lord. They are in His secrets, while even the master of the feast knows nothing about them... It was the servants who were brought nearest to Him in the whole scene. And so with us. Jesus, the Lord of glory, the Heir of all things, was a Servant here. He came "not to be served but to serve," and those who are humblest in service are still cast nearest to Him.

When the people cried to Pharaoh for relief, his reply was simple: "Go to Joseph. What he says to you, do." This at once reminds us of the words His mother spoke at His first miracle: "Do whatever He tells you." Does a conscience-stricken sinner cry out today for salvation? The answer in three words is, "Go to Jesus." All God's grace and bounty flows through Him.

There were six water-pots of stone, placed there for purifying, after the manner of the Jews. The writer, who was present, not only tells us they were of stone, but also tells us their capacity, holding, when full, two or three measures each. Altogether that comes to about one hundred and twenty-six gallons. The wine was gone, and the water-pots were partly if not entirely empty. That was the state of things when the Lord spoke to the servants.

The Jewish system was a witness that people were unclean. Its ordinances could do no more than make the body clean on the outside.

In essence, this rite was a commandment of men, not of God. Their washings had an outward effect only, not an inward one. The six stone water-pots, each holding about twenty gallons, stood empty during the marriage banquet at Cana of Galilee. They show how ample the usual provision was for the ceremonial purification of the guests. The Jewish elders enforced this ritual with great care. Yet to the all-seeing eye it looked no further than the cleanness of the hands and of household dishes — the outside of the cup and the plate. It ignored the condition of the heart, that ever-flowing and overflowing spring of pollution.

Six: incompleteness, imperfection — one short of the perfect number seven... The Jews at Cana had six water-pots for purification, John 2:6; but they showed that ordinances could not meet man's need.

Those empty water-pots tell the tale. They speak of the manner of the purifying of the Jews, but they are empty, mere forms and ceremonies. That is exactly the condition the Jews were in. They had plenty of forms. They would not eat with unwashed hands. They would not do anything ceremonially wrong. They would strain out a gnat... and then they would swallow a camel, as the Lord says: they had the form without the reality.

At the word of the Lord Jesus the water is brought in, the water-pots filled. The water itself is a picture of the word of God. Yet that word brings the pure blessing and joy that can fill empty hearts only when Christ Himself is recognised as its living theme. He does what the law could not do.

He turned the water of purification into the wine of rejoicing. This was the beginning of His miracles or signs, and as a sign it looked on to the final result of His work. There can be no lasting gladness except on the basis of a purification which He brings about. And the gladness that will spring up when the marriage day at last comes for a cleansed Israel will be the best of all.

The capacity of the vessels may vary, as it did with the vessels holding two or three measures each. It is the state of the vessels, their moral condition, that decides whether the Master will use them. If they are vessels that can be used for purifying, they can be used in the ministry of joy for God's people. And what purifies is what brings joy.

The Jewish system was a witness of defilement, and its ordinances could do no more than make people clean on the outside. This was human. Jesus was here for divine purposes, then in testimony, by and by in power.

Six water jars were there, witnesses to an outward and unprofitable purifying. Yet the jars were as empty as the wine bottles. But He was there — the Creator, full of love and pity for His needy creatures, to supply the lack and more besides.

He only looked for a willing obedience to His word; then He would work... He said, "Fill the jars with water," and they filled them up to the brim. No doubts nor questions entered their minds. It was enough that He commanded, and they obeyed with enthusiasm. This willing and unquestioning obedience is essential for blessing. How often He would have filled us with all joy and peace in believing, but we did not trust Him enough to simply obey His word.

John, who was present, tells us they were of stone. He also gives their size: two or three measures each when full. The whole has been reckoned at about one hundred and twenty-six gallons. The wine was used up, and the water jars partly if not entirely empty. That was the state of things when the Lord spoke to the servants... "And they filled them up to the brim." Clearly there was nothing in them now but water, and no room for anything else.

That was the measure, blessed word! It is often repeated in various connections. But no wonder, since it comes from One in whom the fullness itself was pleased to dwell (Col. 1). And who but Himself could give out that fullness? ... Those who do His will are let into the secret of their Lord's mind.

The number now may be that of discipline. We know God will in fact use it to bring His people under the power of His word. His word is His means of purification. "The washing of water" is "by the Word" (Eph. 5:26).

Notice the order: the water first and then the wine — holiness and joy, separation to God, and then power in the Spirit. To think of wine first would be folly, a denial of the truth. "Fill the jars with water" was the word, and the servants showed their obedience by filling to the brim... The way to real joy, to what God calls joy, is through sanctification — the Lord Himself being their righteousness.

We shall not be able to fill them with water unless we are first filled with the water of the Word ourselves. If we read worthless books, we must not be surprised when our children turn to folly... Let us, then, be like the servants of John 2, who filled the pots to the brim and then brought them to Jesus. We cannot change the water into wine, nor could they. We must do what they did — we must bring them to Jesus; and that necessitates prayer.

The wine was gone, and the water pots were partly if not completely empty. That was the state of things when the Lord spoke to the servants. He gave them just two commands. First, "Fill the jars with water." "And they filled them up to the brim." Clearly there was nothing in them now but water, and no room for anything else. The next command was, "Now draw some out and take it to the master of the feast." The servants obeyed. "So they took it," writes the Apostle. The miracle was done. The water had become wine... The Creator was present, and had made water become wine.

He only looked for a willing obedience to His word; then He would work, and these servants... were most admirable in their obedience. No doubts or questions entered their minds. It was enough that He commanded, and they obeyed with enthusiasm. This willing and unquestioning obedience is an indispensable condition for blessing.

"Now draw some out and take it" — another word of power and grace. "The servants who had drawn the water knew." Those who do His will are let into the secret of their Lord's mind.

It is the servants, and only the servants, whom the Lord brings into connection with Himself. They are in His secrets, while even the master of the feast knows nothing about them... It was the servants whom He brought nearest to Him in the whole scene. And so with us. Jesus, the Lord of glory, the Heir of all things, was a Servant here. He came "not to be served but to serve," and those who are humblest in service are still cast nearest to Him. In the day when He gives the true wine of the kingdom, His servants who have served Him will, as here, hand out the joy under Him, and be marked out as in the secret of His glory.

The way the Lord takes to supply the good wine is surely significant. He causes the empty water pots of purification to be filled, and from these water pots the wine is drawn out. Does this not tell us, in a symbol, that the happiness of men will only be secured when holiness is maintained?

The servants and the master of the feast became witnesses no one could refute about the work Christ did. So did the bridegroom. For the moment he got the credit for reversing man's way. Instead of serving the worse wine after people have drunk freely, he had kept the good wine till last.

The marriage scene of Cana in Galilee also shows the way our Lord acts in millennial blessing. The water is turned into wine, and every water pot is filled to the brim. What a word that will be! Joy will be unhindered all around Him, He will know it in full, and He Himself will be its cause and source. Then He says, "Now draw some out and take it to the master of the feast."

Worldly joy diminishes. The astonished master of the feast at the marriage of Cana had to admit: every man serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poorer wine. The quality of the wine gets worse. By contrast, the joy that the Lord Jesus gives increases more and more.

He makes the water wine. He supplies the table as the divine Lord, or Creator, of the feast. But the governor of the feast knew nothing of this. The bridegroom knew nothing of it. The guests knew nothing of it. The mother was not in the secret, and did not see it. It was only the servants who had this secret among them, and the disciples who had this display of glory made to them.

"Draw out now, and carry" — another word of power and grace. "The servants who had drawn the water knew." Those who do His will are let into the secret of their Lord's mind.

The governor of the feast learns the value of the good wine before he understands where it came from. But the servants who drew the water knew... This has valuable lessons for us today. We are to be "servants" in actual practice, fully obeying the word of God, and so knowing in reality the power and grace of the Lord Jesus. The word becomes "wine," stimulating and gladdening the heart. Notice too that the wine is not merely called "the best wine" but "the good wine," for no other can compare with it in any degree.

In the first miracle or sign that Jesus did in our Gospel, we see the power of the Creator at work on lifeless matter... The water is changed into wine so completely that colour, taste and smell announce the fact. The governor of the feast gives powerful testimony to the miracle without knowing what he is saying. Who but the Creator can change the nature of things?

He said, "Fill the pots with water." And this was done to the brim; then He told them, "Draw out now and carry it to the master of the feast." So the servants and the master of the feast became the witnesses who could not be refuted for the work Christ did.

When was the miracle worked? Was it while the water was in the stone jars? Or was it worked between the servants drawing out the water and that water reaching the ruler of the feast?... The words in verse 9, "the servants who had drawn the water knew," seem to suggest this: they drew water out of the jars, and it became wine before it reached the ruler of the feast. Writers have put forward both opinions, so we mention them. Whichever it was, the miracle remains the same — water became wine. The jars were filled to the brim. And it was just before Passover, so there could have been no ripe grapes to squeeze into the vessels. Both facts rule out any thought or possibility of a trick. It was not even like multiplying something already there. It was producing what had not existed before.

The governor sends to the bridegroom who had invited them, as though he were the one. But it was Jesus who provided the joy of the place. He is still keeping "the good wine" for His people until the last — until all other joy is over. Jesus was the true Bridegroom.

He turned the water of purification into the wine of rejoicing. This was the beginning of His miracles or signs, and as a sign it looked on to the final result of His work. There can be no lasting gladness except on the basis of a purification that He brings about. One day the marriage day will come for a cleansed Israel. The gladness then will be the best of all. The "good wine" is kept until that day.

If this steward did not know where the good wine had come from, he knew the ways of men and the character of the world. "Everyone," he said, "serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine." And so it is — "the grass withers, the flower fades." Such is man: he begins in hope and ends in disappointment. How gloomy the words are: "then the poor wine." It is a sad thing for those who have no resources or hopes beyond their own plans and schemes. Those plans stop at the world and its desires, and they all pass away.

There were two mysteries here for the master of the feast. He did not know where the wine came from. He did not know how the bridegroom had kept the good wine until now. The finger of God was there — no, God Himself. Who but He could have done this? And to keep the good wine until the last is not man's way at all; with him, everything ends when the wine runs out. Man's joy passes away very quickly.

The master of the feast learns the value of the good wine before he understands its origin; but the servants who drew the water knew... This has valuable lessons for us now. We are to be "servants" in actual practice, fully obeying the word of God. Then we know in reality the power and grace of the Lord Jesus. The word becomes "wine," stirring and gladdening the heart. Notice too that the wine is not merely called "the best wine," but "the good wine." No other can compare with it in any measure.

Jesus had been invited to this marriage in Cana as a guest; but by the end of it He becomes the host, providing and handing out the wine... The steward sends to the bridegroom who had invited them, as though he were the one. But it was Jesus who provided the joy of the place. And it is He who is still keeping "the good wine" for His people until the last — until all other joy is over. Jesus was the true Bridegroom.

The joy we get from mere human things runs out. So does the joy we get from God's providential dealings in our favour. But He gives the true joy in fellowship with Himself. We misuse God's natural gifts, so the wine runs out. The Lord keeps the good wine, and He gives it at His own right time. In fellowship with Him we experience it. We often say, "You have kept the good wine until now." We keep finding it so, in practice, along our path here.

So Jesus will do on the richest scale in the day that is coming. He will reverse the sorrowful history of man. The wine will not fail when He reigns. There will be joy for God and man in happy fellowship together... In that day, too, He will be the Bridegroom and the Master of the feast. The joy of that day will have its root in the glory of His Person. It will also have its root in the depth of that work of humiliation He already carried out on the cross. There will be no secrets then. It will not only be the servants who know, but everyone, from the least to the greatest.

The whole incident is called a "sign" (verse 11), and a sign is a natural or material fact with a spiritual meaning.

"Signs" — John regularly uses this word in his own comments, while the records always show the Lord using "works"… Doesn't Luke 11:29 agree exactly with the way this Gospel usually presents miracles? They are worked to confirm the real faith, or to raise the shallow faith, of people who are already disciples, as in this passage.

In the first miracle or sign that Jesus did in our Gospel, we see the power of the Creator at work on lifeless matter… The water changes so completely into wine that its colour, taste and smell prove it… Who but the Creator can change the nature of things? And John comments briefly and clearly: "This, the first of His signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested His glory" — the glory or character of the Only Begotten of the Father (chapter 1:14).

Others, in ancient times, had worked miracles, and even raised the dead to life. But they said their power came from God being with them. They said they acted for His glory, to show that there was a God in Israel. Jesus, by His miracles, showed His own glory.

He turned the water of purification into the wine of rejoicing. This was the beginning of His miracles or signs, and as a sign it pointed on to the final result of His work. There can be no lasting gladness except on the basis of a purification that He brings about… This sign, showing His glory, confirmed the faith of His disciples, and may well confirm ours.

On the occasion of the wedding in Cana, the Lord turns water into wine, a picture of the joy He will give in the Millennium. But the principle applies already: the joy that the world gives diminishes — the good wine is served first. But the joy that the Lord gives increases — the good wine is served last. On a practical note: which joy do you and I seek?

This couple who invited Jesus to their marriage were not great or rich. They had no wine, which suggests they were very poor. But Jesus was the Friend of the poor, as He is to this day. He showed His glory by caring for them in their need, and He raised the joy of their marriage day to a level they could not have known if He had not been there.

Some use John 2:11 very foolishly, to prove that the disciples were disciples before they believed. Such a writer would do well to look at Hebrews 11:8-9, 17, and ask himself whether it is therefore true that Abraham had faith before he had faith. Disciples may have their faith exercised again and again. (See John 2:22.)

After that the Lord went down to Capernaum with His mother, His brothers, and His disciples. That city stood on the shore of the lake, on lower ground than Cana of Galilee. The people named here support the idea that the marriage feast had been more of a family gathering. So although the amount of wine needed was probably not large, those providing it probably had little means. Note here the first mention of Capernaum. The Lord visited it this early, before He left Nazareth, where they wanted to kill Him. After that He made His home in it, and it became known as His own city (Matt. 9:1).

Notice that Joseph does not appear anywhere after the end of Luke 2, when the Lord was twelve years old. No doubt he had died in the meantime. Mary is seen with Him again. The Lord was wholly given up to the will and work of His Father, and this took nothing away from the family ties He had graciously taken up.

This scripture, and especially Mark 2:1, seems to show that Mary had moved from Nazareth to Capernaum. It is also likely that Joseph was now dead, since he is not mentioned after Luke 2:48, and this may have led to the move. Nothing hangs on either guess. Still, with the second one, we can easily see that there might have been divine reasons for Joseph dying before Jesus began His public mission.

But notice how perfect our blessed Lord was. He walked separate, and not by avoiding the circumstances. He did it because His own heart was perfectly joined to the Father's will. Not only here, but His mother and His brothers went down with Him to Capernaum.

We read here of His brothers. John mentions them first (2:12), going with Him and His mother from Cana to Capernaum, and we find notices of them in Matthew, Mark and Luke. They lived at Nazareth (Matt. 13:55-56). Some of them tried, along with His mother, to hinder Him in His service (Mark 3:31). John notes the unbelief of some (7:5). We say "some", because he does not state that all of them were unbelievers about the Lord.

But James was not a "disciple". He was one of the Lord's brothers who did not believe during the whole time the Lord lived here on earth: "For not even His brothers believed in Him" (John 7:5). "His brothers" were sons of Mary, born after Him.

His disciples believe on Him. We may be sure this was not with full knowledge of all that was involved, and yet a divine work had been done in their souls. Coming down to Capernaum, He remains there among the remnant of Israel for a few days and then passes on to the capital of the nation.

In Galilee the remnant had their place; and it is the scene of blessing, according to Isaiah 9 — Jerusalem is that of judgment.

In John 2:13 we read of the Passover, the first of "the feasts of Jehovah." But here it is not called the "Feast of Jehovah." It is called "the Jews' Passover." In chapter 7:2 we read, "The Jews' feast of tabernacles was at hand." "The Feasts of Jehovah" have become the "Feasts of the Jews." The outward form was there, but the Lord Jesus Christ, God's Son, had been rejected, and what joy could God have in empty forms?

The Lord set up the Passover as a very holy and solemn thing. It dwindled down into something the Jews took into their own hands, lowered, tarnished and spoiled. The feast was meant to remember the deliverance out of Egypt. The Jews made it into a feast of their own. They lost sight of its original purpose, and they shut God out of it. In the same way, people have in many cases lowered the Lord's Supper, the Lord's Table, into man's supper and man's table.

Critics use this as an indication that the writer was a Gentile. It seems, however, to mean no more than either that, since this is the first time John mentions the festival, he describes it this way for the information of his first readers — Gentiles in Asia Minor — or that it is used in distinction from the Christian Passover.

From Capernaum the Lord went up to Jerusalem with His disciples. He now had a recognised following (2:17). It was in the spring that He made this journey, for the Passover was near at hand. So He had gone to the capital to keep it.

What an opportunity this people had of acknowledging their Messiah, as Nathanael had just done! Will they now say, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!"? Then, as always, comes the dark side of the picture. Man and the nation, with its city and its temple, must now face the test. Jesus may shine out in His personal glory and in His official glory, by words and deeds. But are there eyes that can see, and hearts that can understand Him, and faith that will receive Him?

The temple was in a sad state. Selfishness reigned there. There was no concern for the true fear and honour and holiness of God, yet there was the utmost fussiness about a ritual show of their own invention. These things marked the ruined state of a people whom God's favour had called to the highest earthly privilege.

He goes up to Jerusalem. There He finds the temple profaned, and He drives out the traders — this was a sign of judgment to come… This passage also hints that in His mind the house at Jerusalem was already judged… What concerned the Father — His name, His house, His glory — was always the first thought of the Son who is in His bosom.

Eusebius records an ancient observation that the first three Gospels seem to tell us of only one Passover — that is, of only one year's ministry — while the fourth Gospel speaks of several Passovers, at least three (compare John 6:4; John 12:1). Some find four Passovers in this Gospel.

We say three, because some have supposed that the feast mentioned in chapter 5 was a Passover too. Others, and we think on good ground, do not agree. In the three places where the Passover is meant, John tells his readers plainly that it was that well-known feast. Why then would he drop that practice when writing of the healing at the pool of Bethesda?

No one denied that oxen, sheep, and doves were to be brought to God's altar at set times and under set conditions. But God's revelation gave no permission for them to wait inside the court of the Temple for whatever the offerers needed. Leviticus 26:2, "You shall reverence my sanctuary," points the other way and forbids such a practice. The lowing of oxen, the bleating of sheep and the cooing of doves rose above the hum of human voices. The sacred court must have looked like a fair or market, not the holy spot where God was to be worshipped and which people held to be His home on earth. The money-changers' tables and their trade were more out of keeping with that holy place. Man's convenience and man's worldly gain — these were served. But which of the traders or money-changers cared in all this about the honour of their God?

This shows how the kind provisions of the law could be twisted, and were twisted, to serve man's greed. There was instruction on this point in Deuteronomy 14:22-26, and they might plead that they were only doing what the law allowed. The law told them to bring their money and buy what they needed. It never approved the greedy practices they had brought in, which turned the house of God into a money-making centre.

They may claim with a pious air that they brought the oxen, sheep and doves there to help those who wanted to offer sacrifices, and that money changing helped those who had come from other countries. But the plain truth was that money-making was their aim. The place for this was in the business markets. These creatures of sacrifice all speak of Christ. The ox speaks of His devoted service toward God, the sheep of His submission to God, the dove of His purity before God. How revolting, then, that these should be sold for monetary profit!

Who was this One acting like this? He was the Son of the Father, the only begotten Son of God. It was God's house — so everyone claimed — and there He stood with all that mixed crowd. It was His Father's house, He said. If, then, it was His Father's house, He was undeniably the Son... God, who long ago lived in the innermost sanctuary in thick darkness, was that day seen in the court of the Temple. Here was God in the person of a man, God in human flesh, revealing Himself as the Father's Son and acting as Son in caring for His Father's glory.

This clearing of the temple is not the one the other Gospels report on His last visit; John gives only the first. The temple was in a bad state. Selfishness reigned there. They cared nothing for the true fear, honour and holiness of God, yet they were extremely fussy about a ritual show of their own invention. All this marked the ruined state of a people whom God's favour had called to the highest privilege on earth.

The last sentence in Zechariah is an arresting one: "In that day there shall no longer be a Canaanite in the house of the Lord of hosts." This means more than banishing a literal Canaanite. The name means "a merchant," and a spirit of merchandising has plagued the house of the Lord in Israel throughout its history... At last that house will be made fully clean from the defilement of those who use Jewish religion to serve their own greed... May we too in our day hold God's house, the Church of the living God, in proper respect. May we give the Lord Jesus the supreme honour He deserves.

No one could deny that oxen, sheep, and doves should be brought to God's altar at certain times and under certain conditions. But nothing in divine revelation allowed them to stand waiting inside the court of the Temple for the worshippers' needs... The lowing of oxen, the bleating of sheep, the cooing of doves rose above the hum of human voices. The court must have looked like a fair or a market, not the holy place where God was to be worshipped... The trade served man's convenience and man's profit. But which of the traders, or of the money-changers, cared in all that for the honour of their God?

The law told them to bring their money and buy what they needed. But it gave no support to the greedy practices they had introduced, which turned the house of God into a money-making centre. We can see the same thing in principle in our day.

Here we see Him doing no fewer than four things: making the whip, driving out the animals, pouring the changers' money onto the ground, and overturning the tables. Nowhere else do we find Him showing such strong outward marks of indignation as when He saw men profaning the temple. The whole event is a striking picture of what Christ will do at His second coming. Remembering that, we may get some idea of the deep meaning of that remarkable phrase, "the wrath of the Lamb."

He acted with authority, and no one resisted Him... The sheep and the oxen went out at His bidding. Were they not His creatures? ... However crowded the court had been, He cleared it at once. No trader, no money-changer refused to comply.

In Matthew's Gospel it is an act of Messianic power, where He cleanses His own house, or at least acts for God as His King. In John it is rather zeal for the injured honour of His Father's house — "do not make My Father's house a house of trade." John also tells of this first cleansing early in his Gospel because he treats Israel's rejection as settled from the start.

"Do not make My Father's house a house of trade," He says, and His disciples remember the words of Psalm 69 — one of the sacrificial psalms — "Zeal for your house has consumed me." This very zeal and devotion to His Father's glory was a pledge of His death. So the Pharisees asked Him by what authority He did these things. His reply shows He knew exactly where such zeal was leading Him: "Destroy this temple" — take My life — "and in three days I will raise it up."

Such a question overlooks the divine authority completely — the divine authority of righteousness over God's acknowledged house... Jesus did it with the declaration that "something greater than the temple is here"; that if they destroyed "the temple of His body, He would raise it up in three days." He was Jehovah.

He did that alone; we could have no part in such divine and holy indignation. But in these reproaches we may share, and shall share if we are like Him. What causes the reproaches is as necessary to the well-being of God's house on earth now as the zeal that cleansed the Temple then.

He does act as the Lord, with divine rights, yet also as the lowly One who was sent, as a servant. Even so, in the very command not to make His Father's house a house of trade, He still bears witness to the glory of His Person. He was the Son of God, announced as such, just as Nathanael had already acknowledged Him. He judged the scene, and not merely on moral grounds, such as might be open to any godly Israelite. He acted openly as the One who identified Himself with His Father's interests. This was His house.

This contradicts the Gnostics' idea that the Creator God of the Old Testament was not "the Father" our Lord spoke of. Notice the other Gospel writers' account of the cleansing of the Temple. Instead of "My Father's house," we find "your house." By then the Jews had fully rejected Christ.

The marriage at Cana tells us that man cannot secure his own happiness by the natural means God has set up. The second scene, at Jerusalem, shows that man cannot make use of the religion God has given. Suppose God provides a religion suited to man in the flesh, to guide his conduct and secure his earthly blessing. Man at once corrupts it into a means of making gain. The house of prayer for all nations becomes the gathering place of money-changers. They turn the Father's house into a house of trade.

He acted with authority, and no one resisted Him. He spoke, too, with authority to those who sold doves. The eternal Son said, "Take these things away; do not make My Father's house a house of trade." And they carried them away. The sheep and the oxen went out at His bidding. Were they not His creatures? The money-changers saw their coin scattered on the ground. However crowded the court had been, He cleared it at once. No one could resist His word. No trader, no money-changer, refused to comply.

There were two cleansings of the Temple. The first came before John the Baptist finished his ministry. The second came near the close of the Lord's life. On the first occasion Christ cleansed it as His Father's house (John 2:16). On the second occasion He cleansed it of traders as His own (Matt. 21:13).

The Jews had profaned it in many ways. They made it a house of trade (John 2) and a den of thieves (Matt. 21). Yet He still called it His Father's house, and He went on recognising it as such. At last He judged it and said, "See, your house is left to you desolate."

Our Lord with a whip of cords drives them out, and casts out all their business. "Do not make My Father's house a house of trade," He says. His disciples remember the words of Psalm 69, one of the sacrificial psalms: "Zeal for your house has consumed me." This zeal and devotion to His Father's glory was a pledge of His death.

The very same evils appeared long ago in the Christian world. This is a terrible thing to say, but truth demands that it be said. Again religion has become a money-making concern. Often this drives away the person seeking God. Paul's first letter to Timothy tells us how to behave in the house of God. In it words like these stand out: "not a lover of money," "not greedy for dishonest gain," "depraved in mind and deprived of the truth, imagining that godliness is a means of gain," and "godliness with contentment is great gain." If such words govern us, we shall be kept from this snare.

This is a remarkable transaction. The point of it stands out clearly: as a Man He was conscious of being the Son, and that made Him zealous for His Father's honour. It was a witness, too, of the day when, as Son with power, He will purge the temple of all that defiles it. On that blessed day He will clear away everything that hinders the Father's glory and the free access of His love.

The Greek word zelos is used of the Lord in "Zeal for your house will consume me," John 2:17 — a quotation from Psalm 69:9, where the Greek Old Testament has the same word. Paul speaks to the Corinthian saints of the "zeal" they had for him, and the "zeal" they showed in clearing themselves from the evil among them. Afterwards he says he was jealous over them with a godly jealousy. But in 2 Corinthians 12:20 he uses the same word for the "jealousies" he feared he might find among them.

In this act of their Master the disciples recalled the words of the royal psalmist: "Zeal for your house will consume me" (Ps. 69:9). That is how we should read the line here, on the authority of all the uncial manuscripts. The Vatican and Alexandrine texts of the Greek Old Testament, though, agree with the Hebrew, which has the verb in the past tense. We have no warrant for concluding that the disciples looked on the Lord's act at that time as the fulfilment of a prophetic saying. It illustrated that verse in the Psalm to them.

This very zeal and devotedness to His Father's glory was a pledge of His death. So the Pharisees asked by what authority He did these things. His reply shows that He knew full well where such zeal was leading Him: "Destroy this temple" — take My life — "and in three days I will raise it up."

Here, as he thinks of it, the psalmist's zeal breaks out: it consumes him as the altar flame consumes the sacrifice. So it was with Christ in the temple. There He flames out in a testimony against the evil, and that puts Him in opposition to the heads of the people.

That devotion led Him to identify completely with God and His interests on the earth. He felt everything according to God, and for God. So He said, "The reproaches of those who reproach you have fallen on me." He took everything in, not by how it touched Himself, but by how it touched God and His glory. A reproach spoken against God wounded His heart, because He was here not for Himself, but for God.

Something totally unbecoming to His Father's nature had dared to invade His Father's house. That was bound to stir a burning zeal in His soul. Let us take a solemn lesson from this as to what is fitting for God's house, the assembly of God, today.

She gave all her living to the house of her God. He could say, "Zeal for your house has consumed me"; she could say, "Zeal for your house has consumed my living." So she was very near to Him. What a privilege!

A challenge now comes from the Jews, the persistent opponents of the Lord Jesus in this Gospel. Here we meet them in opposition for the first time. No doubt the Lord's act had taken them completely by surprise, and at first they said nothing. But, recovering themselves, they asked Him what sign He showed them, since He was doing these things. What had just taken place was not merely unusual but, in their experience, unique. What proof, then, could He give them that He had authority to act this way? Everyone agreed that the oxen, the sheep and the doves were there to provide victims for sacrifices to the God of Israel. The money-changers were there for the convenience of the crowd of worshippers from far away. Why, then, should He drive all of them out of the sacred precincts?

Though unable to resist, the Jews question what credentials He had for doing such things. They cry for a sign, though they cannot deny the moral rightness of His action. But He will not satisfy this idle curiosity. The sign would be one — an infinitely powerful one — that they would not want.

The Jews, however, challenged what He did and demanded a sign, as though the irresistible authority of His action was not sign enough.

He had cleansed the temple, His Father's house, which they had turned into a place of trade. He had asserted His right to clear that house. He turned out of it every defiling thing. He could not do it in any other character except as the Son of God. As the Son, His zeal proved His right to cleanse that house from all defilement, and those money-making, wretched Jews challenged Him at once: what authority have you to do that?

In reply He gave them the great sign of His own death and resurrection, only expressed in symbolic language. The fact was that the Temple, as God's dwelling-place, was about to be replaced by Himself. His body was a far more wonderful "Temple" than the one that had stood on Mount Moriah. The Word dwelt among us in flesh, and so "God was in Christ" in a far deeper and more intimate way.

The Temple at Jerusalem could be corrupted. The Temple of the Lord's body could not be corrupted, though men could use violence to try to destroy it. Again and again they tried to stone the Lord. At last, when the hour had come, they were allowed to "destroy" the temple of His body. Man's wickedness becomes one more occasion to display His glory as the Son, and His superiority over all others. Man may destroy, but he cannot raise the dead.

The sign that He would give was His own resurrection-power. He would raise not others only but His own body, the true Temple in which alone God was, for the Word was God. What they boasted in had only a name without God. It is resurrection that marks Him out as Son of God in power. When He was raised, the disciples remembered His saying. They found even stronger confirmation of their faith in both Scripture and His word. His resurrection is the basic truth both of the gospel and of our distinctive place as Christians.

He had cleansed the temple, His Father's house, which they had turned into a place of business. He had asserted His right to clear that house. Those money-making, wretched Jews challenged Him at once: What sign do you show us if you do these things? He could not do it in any other character except as the Son of God. As the Son, His zeal proved His right to cleanse that house of every defilement.

There is another word used for temple (Greek, naos). It means the inner, more sacred part of the temple, where only the priests could enter. Above all it means the holiest place of all, where only the high priest could enter once a year. This was the word the Lord used when He spoke of the temple of His body. He meant His condition as Man of flesh and blood on this earth.

The sign He would give was His own resurrection power, raising not merely others but His own body, the true temple in which alone God was (for the Word was God). The one they boasted in had only a name without God.

Men could corrupt the temple at Jerusalem. They could not corrupt the temple of the Lord's body, though they could use violence to try to destroy it. Again and again they tried to stone the Lord. At last, when the hour had come, they were allowed to "destroy" the temple of His body. Man's wickedness becomes one more occasion to show His glory as the Son, and His greatness above all others. Man may destroy, but he cannot raise the dead. His resurrection will be the declaration in power that He is the Son of God.

His resurrection was both through the power of God and by Himself. God raised Him up, and He raised Himself up. This statement belongs to this Gospel in particular, where we see Him as the Son of God. We find the same statement in chapter 10:18 — "I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again."

He purifies the temple, His Father's house. But He does this as the God of the temple. This was building houses as God alone can build them: "For every house is built by someone, but the builder of all things is God." To build by creation, or by resurrection as here, is divine architecture. Jesus is a divine builder.

"We heard Him say," two witnesses claimed, "I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands." What the Lord said was different. Within three days of that examination before Caiaphas, His words came true. The Jews put Him to death. They destroyed the temple of His body. On the third day He rose again. Even the two witnesses did not agree with each other.

They ignore His first words about their destroying the temple. They mock His raising it up in three days. He does not explain, but John explains for our benefit. His own body was indeed the true temple of God. God's glory had left the temple in the days of Ezekiel, but in Christ that glory dwelt in fullness. When it happened, the disciples remembered His words. Those words became precious to them, and confirmed the Old Testament Scriptures too.

At first the Jews were unsure of his intentions, for it seemed sacrilegious that an Idumean, a heathen king, should rebuild the sacred temple. But Herod soon showed he was in earnest. He gathered ten thousand wagons to carry the stones needed for such an undertaking, and called up ten thousand skilled workmen for the job. The efforts were so huge that in a year and six months the temple opened, to great rejoicing among the Jews. The building kept receiving additions from time to time. That explains their remark about the forty-six years. But He was speaking about the temple of His body.

Herod was not God's man to build Him a house, nor were the leaders of the Jews fit men to carry on His worship. To the disciples the Lord declared that not one stone would be left on another.

His own body was the true temple of God. God's glory had left the temple in the days of the prophet Ezekiel. But in Christ that glory dwelt in fullness.

A challenge comes from the Jews. In this Gospel they are the persistent opponents of the Lord Jesus, and here we meet them in opposition for the first time. To His questioners His reply seemed absurd. "It has taken forty-six years to build this temple, and will you raise it up in three days?" They gave this answer, we can well imagine, with feelings of triumph. They thought themselves wise and prudent. Which of them could accept such an answer as proof? Would anyone take up the hard work of forty-six years again and finish it in three days? Let the ignorant crowd believe that. How could the educated men of Jerusalem accept it?

He answers them with a challenge: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." He was speaking of His death and resurrection. It was a parable they could not interpret. They applied it falsely to Herod's building, which was still unfinished. Even the disciples understood it only when it came true. The eyes of those held by outward things were not on Him. For the time being, outward things held the eyes of true disciples too.

The temple at Jerusalem could be corrupted. No corruption was possible with the temple of the Lord's body, though men could try to destroy His body by violence. Again and again they sought to stone the Lord. At last, when the hour had come, they were permitted to "destroy" the temple of His body. Man's wickedness becomes one more occasion to show His glory as the Son, and His place above all others. Man may destroy, but he cannot raise the dead. Christ says, in effect, "When you have done your worst, when you have destroyed the temple of My body, I will raise it up."

The sign He would give was His own resurrection power. He would raise not just others but His own body, the true temple in which alone God was. What they boasted of had only a name without God. Resurrection marks Him out as Son of God in power. When He rose, the disciples remembered His saying. They found the strongest confirmation of their faith in both Scripture and His word. His resurrection is the basic truth of the gospel, and of our distinctive place as Christians.

Many times, especially in John's Gospel, the Lord Jesus said things that those who heard Him did not understand. Here in John 2 is a case in point... They did not grasp what the Lord's answer meant: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." They thought only of Herod's temple.

About such reckless treatment of this Gospel, the late Dr. Friedrich Blass remarked that we moderns should ask whether anyone today can know better than someone who lived at the time.

In His reply the Lord shows that, now He had become man, His body was the true Temple or dwelling place of God. The Temple at Jerusalem was empty... The temple at Jerusalem could be defiled. The Temple of the Lord's body could never be defiled, though men could use violence to try to destroy it... Christ says, in effect, "When you have done your worst, when you have destroyed the temple of My body, I will raise it up." His resurrection will be the declaration in power that He is the Son of God.

Indeed His own body was the true temple of God, for God's glory had left the temple in the days of Ezekiel; but in Christ that glory dwelt in fullness. What a sign is the death and resurrection of Christ!

He must die, then, and rise again, before the sign could come to pass. But who has power of resurrection except God? Man may, if God permits it, kill the body. There his power stops. To raise the dead belongs to God, not to man. Yet He who was a man would use that power, and use it on Himself.

But again, He purifies the temple, His Father's house. But He does this as the God of the temple: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." This was building houses as God alone can build them... To build by creation, or by resurrection as here, is divine architecture, and Jesus is a divine builder.

The temple in Jerusalem was the only temple God ever commanded anyone to build on earth. Israel had defiled it so badly that when the Lord Jesus came He set it aside, and spoke instead of "the temple of His body"... While God could no longer dwell in Israel's temple, He could dwell with perfect satisfaction in the body of the Lord Jesus. But since Christ has returned to glory, God is building a temple now — the Church.

At the moment no one, not even His disciples, understood Him. This is another characteristic feature of John's Gospel. Friends and foes alike misunderstand Him again and again. The real meaning of these things dawned on the disciples only after His resurrection, and after the gift of the Spirit that came with it. But this again is not surprising. If the Word becomes flesh, He will speak to us in human words, true. But He will also speak of the high things He knows as the One at the Father's side. So His words are bound to hold a depth far beyond any measuring line man has — depths that only the Holy Spirit can reveal.

They had eyes, but did not see; they had ears, but did not hear, and they did not understand His glory. And sadly, not only the Jews. In understanding, the disciples were little better until He rose from the dead. The resurrection of the Lord proves His power and glory; it is just as truly the only deliverance for disciples from the grip of Jewish influence. Without it there is no divine understanding of Christ, or of His word, or of Scripture.

When first spoken, the Jews thought He was referring to the building they were standing in. Later, on the cross, they taunted Him with what they thought He had said: "You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself." They still thought He meant the Temple building, so they credited Him with words He never spoke. "Destroy this temple," is what He said. "You who would destroy the temple," is what they assumed He said. They misquoted Him, and so got it completely wrong. The disciples, on the other hand, also had to wait for the Resurrection before they had the key to His meaning. Then they remembered what He had said, and found their confidence in His words justified and strengthened. It will be the same for us, when we take God's revealed Word simply.

The sign He would give was His own resurrection power, raising not others only but His own body, the true Temple in which alone God was (for the Word was God)... It is resurrection that marks Him out as Son of God in power. When He was raised, the disciples remembered His saying, and they found the strongest confirmation of their faith in both Scripture and His word. His Resurrection is the basic truth both of the Gospel and of our distinct place as Christians.

When it became fact, however, the disciples remembered His words, which then became deeply precious to them, confirming too the Old Testament scriptures. From that time we may be sure they searched the Old Testament much more eagerly than they had ever done.

Faith, to be of value and have power, rests not on sight or inference, but on Scripture. So the disciples had a badly unreliable memory for the Lord's words until He was raised from the dead (John 2:22). In the same way, they felt nothing of the force and reach of the written word. Once they believed both, they entered into lasting and growing blessing from above... Faith founded on evidence may strengthen a person against Deism, Pantheism, or Atheism. But it never gave forgiveness of sins. It never led anyone to cry, "Abba, Father."

It was in the city of the solemn feasts. It was a feast of Jehovah — in fact the most basic of the sacred feasts. And the Messiah was there, the object of faith, working in power and showing His glory in fitting signs. As a result, many believed on His name. Here was man doing and feeling his best under the best possible circumstances. Yet Jesus Himself did not trust Himself to them. This was from no lack of love or pity in Him; for who ever did or could love as He?

So this conviction was a natural work. It was sincere enough, but only intellectual. Reasoning led them to a correct conclusion, yet it made no real change in the men themselves. They were convinced; they were not converted. They formed their judgment on evidence strong enough, but not on any glory they had seen in Him. So it is not said of these, as of those in the first chapter, that they "received Him." Christ had not gained entrance at the door of their hearts.

The belief that springs from the sight of facts, which cannot be denied, is not the God-given faith that saves. It is merely intellectual conviction, and when tested it easily collapses, as we see in chapter 6, verse 66... Knowing these men, Jesus did not commit Himself to them. The word translated commit is the same as the word translated believed in the previous verse. This helps us to see that true faith is not a mere mental conviction. It is the handing over of oneself in simple trust to the One in whom one believes.

Man's faith here is no better. It is not the soul submitting to God's testimony. It is the mind judging on evidence that satisfies itself. It reaches the conclusion that Jesus must be the Messiah. It does not submit to God's testimony or receive it. For here the mind sits on the throne of judgment. It decides for or against by weighing up the reasons on each side. That takes the place of the soul setting its seal that God is true... Signs arrest the eye; they exercise the mind; they may touch and win the affections. But nothing short of God's word judges the man.

There is a clear contrast here with the people mentioned in Chapter 1. They held to the Lord Jesus because of what they saw in Him Himself. The moral beauty of His own Person, His truth and His grace drew their hearts. Later, others at Samaria told the woman, "It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is indeed the Savior of the world" (John 4:41-42). He had done no miracles there, but His word went deep into their hearts. They believed Him; they did not just believe certain things about Him.

Nicodemus comes to Jesus stating the same principle that had produced conviction in those Jesus had no confidence in. To him the miracles proved that Jesus was a teacher sent from God... The belief of the others did not produce any need in their souls. Conviction like this may go as far as you like. It never troubles the soul, and nothing whatever comes of it. It costs nothing — we often see this.

Knowing these men Jesus did not commit Himself to them. The word translated commit is the same word translated believed in the previous verse. This helps us see that true faith is not just mental agreement. It is handing yourself over in simple trust to the One you believe in.

Their conclusion about Him was a just one; but it was a conclusion drawn by what was in man. It was completely worthless. It left man in his own nature, still under the same motives, influences, and passions as before. It did not take him out of the rule of Satan, who had power over the flesh and the world. The conclusion was right; but it was only a conclusion: the man remained what he was — unchanged.

The verses which close the second chapter show that miracles may produce a "belief" of a certain kind. Many in Jerusalem at that time would have agreed with the saying "Seeing is believing." Yet belief that springs from seeing facts you cannot deny is not the God-given faith that saves. It is only intellectual conviction, and when it is tested it collapses, as we see in chapter 6, verse 66.

They saw His works, and were persuaded that He was a messenger from God. Their faith, however, led them no further. They did not ask to meet Him. They wanted no dealings with Him. They were content with a faith that rested on the witness of miracles, with no exercise of conscience about any need of salvation. They little thought that He could read them right through, and did.

To such Christ did not commit Himself. This again manifests the glory of Christ. He is One Who "knew all men"; "He knew what was in man", and He did not need, as others do, anyone to tell Him about man. He is the Omniscient God.

Here was man doing and feeling his best, in the most favourable circumstances of all. Yet Jesus did not trust Himself to them. It was certainly not for any lack of love or pity in Him, for who ever loved as He did, or could? And the reason, calmly given, is overwhelming: "because He knew all men, and because He did not need anyone to bear witness about man, for He Himself knew what was in man." What a sentence; from Whom; and on what grounds!

The truth at the end of John chapter two is this: Jesus says to man, I cannot trust you. Chapter three turns it right around, and there He says, If you are going to be blessed, you must trust Me. That is an immense difference. Why did He not trust man? Because there was nothing in man to suit God.

A faith based on miracles may leave people unsaved, unblessed and unconverted. They carry a dreadful responsibility, no doubt, but they are not converted at all... There must be a new life, a new nature; and miracles and signs cannot impart this. We must be born again — born of the word and Spirit of God.

He was the Omniscient One, and nothing can be hidden from Him. Until Jesus came into the world no man ever knew what was in man. But when He was here, there was a Man in the world who did not need to wait until people revealed themselves by their actions. He knew what was in man. And the solemn part of it is that He who knew what was in man would not trust him.

They did not really know the Lord, but He knew them, and knowing their motives, He did not trust them. This is certainly not merely human discernment. It is His omniscience as God, the Creator, who knows all men. He needed no witness from others about any particular man: He knew what was in man. This is true of none but God. The Gospel of John has many such expressions, to encourage our complete confidence in His divine knowledge.

Jesus did not know man, or the springs and energies of corrupt nature, through any fellowship with them, for He had no such fellowship. The prince of this world had nothing in Him. He was the holy one — "holy, innocent, unstained, separated from sinners." Yet, as this passage tells us, He knew what was in man. He knew it all. He knew it was deceitful above all things. He searched the hearts and tested the inner motives of the children of men.

The dreadful truth comes out: the Lord did not trust Himself to them, because He knew all men. How withering the words! He had no need that anyone should testify about man, for He knew what was in man. It is not denunciation, but the most solemn sentence, delivered in the calmest manner. It was no longer an open question whether God could trust man; He could not. The real question is whether man would trust God. Sadly, he would not.

Certainly it was not from any lack of love or pity in Him, for who ever did or could love as He did?

The simple meaning is that Jesus knew all, and had no need of testimony about man, for He Himself knew what was in man. It is the great, general truth, which the special case of Nicodemus so aptly illustrates. Man at his best was unfit for the kingdom of God, and therefore needed to be born afresh, or from the very beginning.

The Spirit of God, so to speak, says: I will bring before you the very finest piece of humanity the world can produce, a man who would be supposed to have a claim to anything and everything, on the ground of his moral character and religious activity.

Why then was He in the world? He did not come simply to expose man and leave him uncovered. No — He came to bring God to man, to set the grace and love of God before the eyes of men. He did this in every word that came from His lips, and in every work and miracle He did.

He not only knows what is in man, He knows all that is in the heart of God. He knows the extent of our need, and He knows the greatness of God's grace to meet that need.

No fair appearance, no mere profession, no pious exterior deceives Him. "All are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account." Nor would the upright heart that truly knows His love want it to be otherwise. It brings great comfort and rest to such a heart that He knows and discerns everything perfectly.

There is a little word connecting the second and third chapters of John's Gospel which does not appear in our ordinary English Bible. Chapter 2 ends by saying that Jesus did not entrust Himself to them, because He knew all people and needed no one to bear witness about man. He Himself knew what was in man. Then the third chapter really begins with, "But there was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus." The Spirit of God, so to speak, says, I will bring before you the very nicest piece of humanity that the world can produce, a man you would think has claims to anything and everything, because of his moral character and religious activity.

It is the great, general truth that the special case of Nicodemus so fittingly shows. Man at his best was unfit for the kingdom of God, and so he needed to be born afresh, or from the very beginning.

Nicodemus is deeply religious, highly respectable, and very intelligent. He is a man of the Pharisees, a ruler of the Jews, and a teacher in Israel. Yet we learn that none of these human advantages will let a man enter the kingdom of God. What is flesh is flesh. It may be cultured and refined flesh, as with Nicodemus, or completely degraded flesh, as with the woman in the fourth chapter.

Religiousness, morality, education and culture are not enough to save man and give him a place in the Kingdom of God. The new birth is the one thing needed... The flesh cannot be changed into something better. In the new birth the Holy Spirit gives a new nature, the divine nature.

We learn only half the truth when we answer, Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. In fact, this tells us nothing beyond his name and official rank. These things have no weight before God, and no meaning for a soul that is seeking.

He was a leading man among the strictest of the chosen people. He was in earnest enough to seek Jesus for truth, and still valued the world enough to fear its condemnation and scorn... He did not know that a deeper work was going on inside him, and that this was what drew him, and not them, to Jesus.

Where the Spirit of God is at work, He always produces needs in the soul: a craving and desire for what is of God and godly. With that comes a sense of our own lack... Being a ruler, and above all a religious ruler, made it harder for him to go to Christ. The dignity of a man appointed to teach does not help him go and learn.

There are three stages in his history. I call John 3 midnight, John 7 twilight, and John 19 daylight... The death of Christ produced in Nicodemus what His life had never achieved. When he saw that He was dead, the truth of John 3 became clear to him. His actions said, in front of the whole world: think what you like, say what you like, do what you like — Christ is for me, and I am for Him.

He was a leading man among the strictest religious group in God's chosen people. He was earnest enough to seek Jesus for truth. Yet he still valued the world enough to fear its blame and scorn. So he came to Jesus by night. Even so, he took his stand on a belief he shared with his fellow leaders, because of the signs the Lord did. He did not know that a deeper work was going on within, which drew him, and not them, to Jesus.

There are many people today exactly like that. They would like to come to Jesus and get their need met, but at the same time they would not like all the world to know it.

Nicodemus had reached a right conclusion about Christ, like the people mentioned at the end of the last chapter. It rested on the outward evidence of miracles... As far as it went, the conclusion was just, and the human mind can reach it. But if it is nothing more than the result of human reason, it leaves the soul far from God, with no sense of its need of Christ.

He was fully convinced that God had sent Jesus, and he will not allow that anyone can have the slightest doubt about it. He says: "We know." The testimony is abundant and overwhelming. If others refuse to admit it, that is a sin against light.

He hesitates to accept a doctrine, because this doctrine silenced his understanding. Yet he owns the One who teaches it to be "a teacher come from God." That is the strange inconsistency of man. So it is possible to accept the mission of Jesus, backed as it is by glorious, undeniable proofs. But without the life-giving power of the Holy Spirit it is impossible to accept the teaching.

What he needs is not teaching. He needs a new nature, a new source of spiritual being, to see the kingdom of God. No inference, however logical, is faith... In such a state teaching would only increase the danger... He needed to be made alive, not to be fed fresh food for his mind.

Nicodemus had come to Him as to a Teacher. The Lord at once turns him in another direction, and lets him know that he must come to Him as a Saviour or Life-giver. Nicodemus was seeking instruction. The Lord tells him that he needed life.

But there was a hunger in the heart of Nicodemus which was not in theirs. That hunger brought him to the feet of Jesus, and no one was ever rejected there.

There are three stages in his history. I call John 3 midnight, John 7 twilight, and John 19 daylight. It was darkest midnight in that man's soul when he came creeping to Jesus, hoping nobody saw him. He began to get a glimmer of light when he put in a word for the Lord in chapter 7. But the death of Christ produced in Nicodemus what His life had never achieved.

His question proves that "born from above" is not at all the true meaning of the verse. If the Lord had led Nicodemus to understand it that way, he could never have asked such a question. No; He meant born afresh, born from the very start. It appears to be the strongest possible expression of this; at any rate, I do not know a stronger one in Scripture.

Nicodemus reasons as a natural man, and he shows that human thoughts are limited to human experience. Left to himself, man cannot understand spiritual and heavenly things.

Scripture presents Nicodemus as an honest man. He values the Lord's miracles rightly and admits that they confirm His divine mission. Nicodemus was "ruler of the Jews," one of the religious authorities of that day. Yet the very first thing he hears leaves him baffled. The veil was on his heart. He hesitates to accept a teaching that silenced his understanding, even though it comes from One he himself calls "a teacher come from God." Such is the curious inconsistency of man. So a man may accept the mission of Jesus, backed by glorious, undeniable proofs, and still be unable to accept the teaching without the life-giving power of the Holy Spirit. Only the one who is born again can see and believe that the same Person is both the teacher and the teaching.

A second natural birth would gain no more than the first. A natural man could enter his mother's womb ten thousand times and be born, and he would still be nothing but a natural man; for "that which is born of the flesh is flesh." Do what you will with flesh — with nature — and you cannot alter or improve it. Nothing could change flesh into spirit. You may raise it to the rank of Pharisee, ruler of the Jews, master of Israel. You could hardly raise it higher. It will be flesh all the same.

Suppose the old tale of an old man made young again could be true. Suppose even that the strange case the astonished Pharisee imagines could be made fact by a miracle. It would still fail to meet what the kingdom of God requires. For it would be human nature still, whether renewed in its youth or repeated in its birth ever so far or so often. A clean thing cannot come out of an unclean; and such is man's nature since the fall. God's way of renewal is not that at all. He gives a nature wholly fresh from its source, for the believer is born of God, not of perishable seed but of imperishable, by the living and abiding word of God.

Taken strictly, this question means: How is it possible for a man to be born again? But our Lord's answer does not deal with it in that form. He shows the way a man is born again: "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God."

"That which is born of the flesh is flesh" — a very solemn truth about what man is, as man. Everything shares the moral character of its source. Flesh is flesh. Do what you like with it, it is flesh, and nothing but flesh. Educate it as far as you can, and it is still flesh, not spirit... You may refine the flesh as you like, but you will never distil spirit out of it. "That which is born of the Spirit is spirit." It takes after its source; its nature is the same as its source.

The Apostle John goes to the very root of things — nature — when he says, "That which is born of the flesh is flesh" (John 3:6). Here "flesh" means the fallen sinful nature of man. "Flesh" in Scripture sometimes means the physical body, such as "flesh and bones." Used that way, it includes the Lord Himself. But mostly the word refers to our fallen sinful nature. In that nature the blessed Lord had no part, or else He would be one of us and no Saviour.

Nicodemus comes and applies to Him as a teacher. No, no, says the Lord, I am not going to teach flesh, Nicodemus; it is not a question of teaching yet. You must get another life first; you must be born again; you do not need teaching until you have life... Flesh never ceases to be flesh. I must be born of the Spirit, a partaker of the divine nature, born of God.

Nicodemus is the only person to whom the Lord spoke of the absolute necessity of the new birth. He never made such a statement to the tax collectors and the prostitutes. And who was Nicodemus? A Pharisee, and therefore an extremely religious man. A ruler of the Jews, which required a moral life. The teacher of Israel, a man of much learning. Religion, morality, education and culture are not enough. They cannot save a man or give him a place in the Kingdom of God... The new birth is not reformation. Nor is it, as people often say, an action of the Holy Spirit to make an evil nature good. Nothing can change the flesh into something better. In the new birth the Holy Spirit imparts a new nature, the divine nature.

Human nature can never be refined. It can never be improved or changed enough to rise up into any acquaintance with the things of God. No spiritual process whatever can turn it into divine nature. On the other hand, the new nature does not decay. It can never be reduced to "the flesh," or to the nature of man as he is. Our Lord says on the one hand, "That which is born of the flesh is flesh." On the other hand He says, "that which is born of the Spirit is spirit." It takes the character of its source.

Thank God, the believer in the Lord Jesus has a new nature — a nature that is at home in the presence of God — a nature that loves holiness and shrinks from evil... Scripture says of the one born of God that he cannot sin. That is a strong statement, but the inspired writer is looking at the believer in the abstract, as identified only with the divine nature. Just as you might say that a vine cannot bear thorns, or a fig tree thistles, but only the fruit that expresses its nature, so it is with the divine nature — it must express itself; it cannot sin.

New birth comes from the Holy Spirit, and the result, as John 3:6 shows, is a new nature which is "spirit" in its essential character. What the Spirit produces shares His own nature. Keep this distinct from the Holy Spirit living in someone already born again.

Now this was very new teaching for the Jews — God's chosen ones. But the time had come when they must learn the lesson that neither Jew nor Gentile can stand before the light of God. "Do not marvel that I said to you, you" (Jews) "must be born again." They were the children of the kingdom. But He goes to the root — not of teaching about God's ways with Israel, but of nature. People talk about God's image being restored in man. That is all completely false. A new creation, a divine nature, is the thing we need. On this common ground of nature Jew and Gentile both stood alike, and both must be born again.

Here, then, lies the necessity of being born again: "That which is born of the flesh is flesh… Do not marvel that I said to you, 'You must be born again'" (John 3:6-7). This necessity is universal in its application. It concerns everyone born into this world. The dutiful, obedient child needs it as much as the son who ran off and wasted everything. The tireless giver to good causes needs it as much as the convict in his cell. For the flesh is flesh, and cannot enter the kingdom of God. So there must be a new nature and a new life. Without them, whatever a man's moral reputation, he will stay outside the kingdom of God for ever.

What is required is not just new behaviour or new principles of action, but a new birth. That means an entirely new origin. The origin and pedigree of Nicodemus was of the best, since he came of true Abrahamic stock. What is more, he had acquired all the culture the Jewish religion could give. If he, a cultured son of Abraham, needed a new birth, then it shows that all flesh, even Abrahamic flesh, is condemned before God. Because everyone needs new birth, the sentence of condemnation falls on us all.

In Genesis the Spirit of God moves, and in His sovereign power says, "Let there be light." In John we get, "You must be born again"… The ability to see is the ability to appreciate light. Eyes are no use without light. New birth is the spiritual eye for spiritual light. The Spirit of God is the sovereign Producer of this new birth.

The first word of our text shows how pointed and personal our Lord was in His ministry — "YOU must be born again." This shows His faithful love. He did not offer dry doctrines or polished speeches to please listeners who only wanted something pleasant to hear. No. He was the Faithful Witness, and He came not to destroy, but to save.

This "must" cannot be set aside. It applies to the whole world: to the highest and the lowest, to noble and peasant, to prince and pauper, to old and young, rich and poor. The Lord Jesus says these words to one religious man, but they apply to every soul. Have you weighed them?