and if I go and shall prepare you a place, I am coming again and shall receive you to myself, that where I am ye also may be.
These words come the night before the cross, and the disciples are afraid: their Master is leaving. His answer is a promise, and it raises three questions: what place is He preparing, what return does He mean, and what does He promise us at the end?
What makes the place ready is that Christ Himself has gone in as a man, ahead of us.
He says, "I go to prepare a place for you." It was the eternal thought of the Father that man should be in that place. But Christ had to go in first as our Forerunner. His entrance prepared the place. He entered as Man into the presence of the Father, in the Father's house. He would have us know that that place is ours.
The house He speaks of is His own home.
Notice, it was in His Father's house, the place that He had as Son where He was at home — there He was going to prepare my place. That is unspeakable blessing! It was a comfort, a joy to have Christ with them in the world, but that was only along the way. He was going to prepare a place where He was at home. Think what the home of such a heart as His must be!
Some have read the promise as a poetic way of speaking about dying, or about a historical event. Commentators reject those readings.
It is clear that He did not mean death, nor the destruction of Jerusalem, nor the end of the world. He who was going away promised to come again. If the departure of Jesus was real and personal, the return would be just as real and personal. He does not come to reign over them in their place. He comes to take them to His place, so that He and they may be happy together in heaven.
Look closely at the wording. (Older translations read "receive you to Myself"; the ESV has "will take you to myself".)
"I will come again, and receive you to Myself." This is the language of affection. He does not say, I will send for you. No, that would not satisfy the heart — "I will come." He would not be content without having them where He is, and without coming to fetch them.
That choice shows what kind of Person is coming.
Had we known Him only as a great ruler, splendid in His glory, it would have been fitting for Him to send some noble servant to lead us into His throne room. But it is not glory, or dignity, or splendour of that sort that He shows us here. It is love — yearning, tender love that cannot wait for someone to bring us, and will not send another for us, but must come itself.
Look at what He does not name.
Notice, it is the Person here again. It is not "heaven," or "glory," but "to Myself." What joy there is in that! "That where I am you may be also."
The phrase "where I am" carries a settled meaning across this Gospel.
He went there to prepare a place where we can be and see the Father in Him. For this He had to enter the Father's house as a human being. That is what the Father's house is all about. The expression "where I am" occurs five times in this Gospel and each time it refers to the Father's house (7:34, 36; 12:26; 14:3; 17:24).
The last clause states a purpose — and the purpose is mutual.
The promise goes on, "that where I am you may be also." This tells us that the need of our hearts is His own need too. Not only for our joy but for His, we must be where He is. And that is the heaven of the Christian's hope. People have imagined a heaven of their own. It suits them, no doubt, but it does not suit at all what Christ desires for us.
Commentators distinguish two sides of the Lord's return. This verse belongs to the first.
One class of passages is found only in the New Testament. These refer to the coming of the Lord for His saints: John 14:3; Philippians 3:20; 1 Thessalonians 4:15-17; 1 Corinthians 15:23. Another set of texts is common to both Testaments. These teach just as plainly the coming with the saints: Jude 14; Zechariah 14:5; Colossians 3:4; Revelation 19:11-14.
- He goes — Christ prepared the place by entering the Father's house as a man, our Forerunner; His entrance makes that place ours.
- He comes — not a message, not a servant, not death: a real, personal return by the One who really left.
- He receives — the promise ends not in a location but in "Myself"; the destination is a Person.
- He wants us — being where He is meets His own heart's desire, not only ours.
- He gathers — this is His coming for His own, distinct from His later coming with them.
And ye know where I go, and ye know the way.
Jesus has just told His disciples that He is leaving to prepare a place for them in His Father's house. Now He tells them they already know both the destination and the road. That raises two questions: where was He going, and how could men who had never been there know the way?
(The writers below use an older translation: "Where I go you know, and the way you know.")
Where was He going? The answer is not a place on any map:
"Where I go you know," the Lord says, pointing it out even more definitely. He was not going into the universe, nor to any place that earth was part of. His hour had come to leave this world and go to the Father. But how did they know the place so well, and the way, despite Thomas? Because it was the Father's presence — a far more definite thing to me than the word "heaven." He was the way to the Father, just as the Father was revealed in Him. So they knew the Father's house.
How could they know a place they had never seen? Thomas said they could not:
Thomas contradicts this outright: "Lord, we do not know where You are going, and how can we know the way?" But Thomas was badly mistaken. They knew where He was going by knowing Himself. In Him they had learned everything that gave character to the place. If I wanted to know your house I might get to know it without knowing much about you, but in the things of God it is otherwise. We know divine things by knowing divine Persons. The way to get to know the place is to get to know the Person who is in the place.
So what makes that house worth going to?
I am going to the Father's house, and you shall be there too. And what makes the blessedness of the Father's house? The Father being there, and brothers and sisters there. We do not think about the place or the state in connection with the Father's house, though there are these as well. The great thing to our hearts is the Person there — the object in the house — the Father. No one can go to the Father "but by Me." If I know the Father, I know where I am going. It is He who makes it a home to me.
They had been with Jesus a long time, and Philip still wanted to know the Father:
Philip thought that if only he knew the Father, he could know the Father's house. Jesus says, "Have I been with you so long, and you still do not know Me, Philip? Whoever has seen Me has seen the Father." Every trait of the blessedness of the Father's house shone out in the Person and ways of the Son here below. The heart that knows the Son knows the Father too, even the feeblest baby. It is no matter of attainment; the Lord Jesus would start us with it.
The Lord credits them with knowledge they had not yet felt:
God always treats us according to what He has really given us, treating us as though we had realised it all. So in John the Lord says, "And where I go you know, and the way you know." They did know HIM who was truly the way to the Father. Yet Thomas objected, "We do not know the way," because they had never realised it.
One writer names the cause: "Then, as always, overlooking His glorious Person is what left them bewildered." (William Kelly)
Thomas's mistake carries a lesson about how to handle words of Christ we cannot yet follow:
What Thomas should have done was not to sit in judgment on the words of his Master. He was only trading words with the Lord. Instead of saying what he did, he should have asked, "Well, Lord, and what next?" and so taken the place of a learner. It makes a wonderful difference which place we take. Are we receivers from Him, or judges of what He says?
- Person, not place. We know divine things by knowing divine Persons. Know the One who is there, and you know the place.
- Person as destination. He was going to the Father's presence, not to any place that earth is part of. The Father makes that house a home.
- Person seen already. Every trait of that house shone out in the ways of the Son in front of them. To know the Son was to know the Father.
- Person overlooked. They lost sight of who He was. They had the knowledge, but had never realised it.
- Person to be trusted. Thomas judged his Master's words instead of asking, "Well, Lord, and what next?" — the difference between a receiver and a critic.
Thomas says to him, Lord, we know not where thou goest, and how can we know the way?
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Jesus says to him, I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father unless by me.
Thomas had just admitted he did not know where his Master was going, so he could not know the road either. The answer he received was not a set of directions but a Person — and with it a claim that shuts out every other route to God.
Thomas assumed that knowing a destination meant knowing facts about it. One writer points out that he already had what he said he lacked, because he had the Lord Himself:
But Thomas was mistaken, for they knew where He was going by knowing Him. In Him they had learned everything that gave character to the place. If I wanted to know your house, I could get to know it without knowing much about you. But in the things of God it is different. We know divine things by knowing divine Persons. The way to become acquainted with the place is to become acquainted with the Person who is in the place.
A road only matters where people are lost. One commentator traces the need back to the moment sin entered. Sin turned the world into ground with no path:
A way is a great gift, especially through a wilderness which by its nature has no way. Eden, or unfallen creation, had no way either; but then it needed none... But sin came in, and death with it, the forerunner of judgment. Everything was changed into a wilderness. Men wandered in every direction, all of them away from God and hopelessly wrong. It became a wilderness-world, an empty place with no road... Now there is a road, for Christ is the Way. He is the only sure Way for the worst of straying sinners. He is the open way for the lost, whom He came to seek and to save.
To be the truth is to be more than a truthful teacher. The same writer explains that Christ shows two things at once: God's own nature, and the true pattern of man:
Further, He is the Truth, the full expression of everyone and of everything as they are. He tells us in His own Person what God is; He shows us the Father, being Himself the Son. But He, not Adam, shows us man. Adam, no doubt, shows us falling or fallen man; Christ alone is man according to God... Moreover, as He shows us holiness and righteousness, so also He brings out sin in its true colours.
The three titles are not a list of equals thrown together. One commentator shows how each title answers a new problem. The last one gives man the power to receive the first two:
The Lord shows Thomas his mistake. He assures him that He Himself was the Way, and that only through Him could anyone come to God. And not only that; He was also the Truth — the revelation of God. But man was dead and could not receive the truth. So He was the Life as well, the life men needed in order to receive it. Everything man needed was found in Him.
The verse names a destination, and it is a Person, not simply heaven. This connects the answer back to the Father's house spoken of a few verses earlier:
We will notice first the beginning of it all, the way to the Father... No way but through Him — through His blood — the new and living way now opened for us into the holiest of all, the very presence of God. This links back to verses 1 to 3. Those who have access to the Father through Him also have entrance to the Father's house.
The little word "the" carries the weight of the whole verse. One writer presses each title in turn to show what the wording rules out:
"No one comes to the Father except through Me," said the Son of God. "I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life." This shuts out every effort of man apart from the Son. It shuts out man even at his very best. The Son is the Way, not simply a way! The Son is the Truth, not simply a portion of it! The Son is the Life, not simply a partial display of it.
That claim has always drawn fire. Another writer warns against softening it to escape the shame:
The Christian faith, and the gospel that proclaims it, still make this exclusive claim today. You can see it in scriptures such as John 6:68; John 14:6; Acts 4:12; Galatians 1:8-9. Some men today go to the Buddhist or the follower of Confucius and admit that their religions are ways to God. They claim only that "Christianity" offers a better way. In doing so they bring themselves close to the curse the apostle pronounces in Galatians 1:8, and perhaps under it. At the same time they escape the shame that the gospel brings. It is this exclusive claim, built into the gospel, which provokes the opposition.
- Way. Sin turned the world into a wilderness with no road; Christ is the road back, and the only sure one for the most straying of sinners.
- Truth. He shows everything as it truly is — what God is, what man was meant to be, and what sin is.
- Life. Man was dead and could not receive the truth, so Christ gives the Life that makes receiving possible.
- Father. The destination is a Person, not a place. Those who reach the Father through His blood also enter the Father's house.
- Only. He is not a way, a portion of truth, or a partial life — and that exclusive claim is exactly what the world resists.
If ye had known me, ye would have known also my Father, and henceforth ye know him and have seen him.
Jesus has been telling His disciples the way to the Father. Now He goes further: to know the Son is to know the Father, and from this moment the disciples do know Him.
The Son is not a first step towards the Father. He is where the Father is seen.
Next the Saviour lets them know that the knowledge of the Father is inseparable from that of the Son. He is the image of the invisible God. In the Son the Father is known, and this the disciples are now given to learn.
God had never made Himself known like this before. People knew His acts, but not Himself.
Before the death of Christ, God was not so revealed. Until Jesus the Son of God came, God stayed hidden behind a veil. People knew little of Him except by His acts. Then Christ revealed the Father, and made Himself known as the Son. On leaving, He promised to send the Holy Spirit to stay with us for ever. "No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father's side, He has made Him known." The Son, the radiance of His glory, has fully shown God in flesh.
Kelly names the God who now comes into view:
It is no longer a question of the Jehovah God of Israel, nor even of the Almighty, the name by which He made Himself known to the patriarchs. There is a richer display of God, and far more intimate. It was God as the Son knew Him, and was making Him known in the fulness of love and fellowship. This God would bring His own who were in the world into the conscious relationship of children, born of Him.
Darby dates the change. Judas has gone out, the cross is in view, and the Lord speaks of it as already done.
From verse 31 of chapter 13 this character of Jesus opens out. From that act He was as good as dead, and He was stating the result: "From now on you do know Him and have seen Him." He speaks as one who knows Him, and this fulness was now revealed in Him. He had been revealed in a certain sense before, as He was to Peter in Matthew 16. Yet He stayed hidden while He lived and was not yet glorified. Then the veil was torn, and the glory seen there was the glory seen in Him.
The verse gives more than access to God. What the disciples receive is the Father Himself.
We next learn the blessed truth, that by coming through Jesus we not only come to the Father, but we get the Father... The poor weak heart does not know its full blessedness in Jesus. It would pour itself into those words: "Show me the Father, and it is enough for me." Only let me know that the Father too is mine, and it is enough — it is all. And that satisfaction is close at hand: "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father." We cannot separate the two. We cannot get Jesus without getting the Father, because the Father was — and is — in Jesus.
"If you had known me" implies they had not. They had heard Him and watched Him, and still missed who stood in front of them.
The disciples, like Israel, had heard and witnessed His marvellous words and works, but never really grasped what they heard and saw.
The knowledge He asks for is not new information. It grows from time spent with Him.
"You who have followed Me, who know what kind of Person I am, who have seen My ways, who have heard My voice, who have watched My character — now everything I want to teach you about the Father is set before you in Me." It is like a child learning what its father is like in the small things of home and school.
- Missed — The disciples had heard His words and seen His works, and still had not known Him, though the Father's whole character stood before them in the Person they followed.
- Known — The Father is known nowhere but in the Son. In Him the invisible God becomes visible.
- New — Until the Son came, God stayed hidden behind a veil, and people knew Him mainly by His acts. Now Christ makes Him known as the Son knows Him.
- Given — Christ is not only the way to the Father. Through Him we receive the Father Himself, for the Father was and is in Jesus.
- Dated — "From now on" marks a real turning point. Judas has gone out, the cross is in view, and the glory hidden through His life now stands out.
Philip says to him, Lord, shew us the Father and it suffices us.
Philip's words come near the end of a long evening of teaching, after Jesus has spoken of His Father's house. It sounds like the highest thing anyone could ask for. Yet the Lord's answer carries real pain.
Philip has caught something true: that a place is only as good as the Person who fills it. One writer links his words to the Father's house the Lord had just spoken of.
Philip wanted to know more about the place. He seemed to grasp that the Person makes the place — that the Father is all the joy and blessedness of the Father's house. So he prays, "Show us the Father, and it is enough for us." What a blessing it is, by grace, to know that we need nothing else to fill and satisfy the whole being.
The problem lay in what kind of showing Philip had in mind. He wanted something his eyes could take in. The Lord was speaking about a different kind of seeing. One writer sets him beside Thomas, another disciple who also could not see past physical things.
Philip, like Thomas, cannot rise above physical things. Thomas thought of a physical place. Philip thinks of physical sight, and so says, "Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us." The Lord's reply shows that He is speaking of the seeing that belongs to faith.
Read on its own, the request sounds admirable — and this from a man who had once brought others to Jesus. But it was not a step forward.
Philip says, "Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us." To many readers this might seem an excellent wish. It comes from a man who had seen Jesus himself and had helped others who wanted to see Him. But it was sad unbelief. The Lord had just spoken patient, gracious words to lead them on.
But Philip did not doubt everything. It is worth naming what he did not believe.
The Lord's rebuke of Philip was aimed less at his unbelief about the Person of the Son, and more at his unbelief about the revelation of the Father which the Son had made. The first is bound up in the second.
Philip was asking for a separate display of the Father. He wanted Him to appear in some form other than the Son. One writer answers by pointing to the ordinary substance of Christ's life — what He said and what He did.
The Lord patiently explains to Philip that He Himself, as a Man here, gave a full and blessed display of everything the Father is. His words were the Father's words; His works were the Father's works... When they looked at Jesus the Son as Man here, they were looking at what the Father is. There is no difference between the Father and the Son.
That also settles where anyone should look who shares Philip's longing today.
It is pointless, then, to look anywhere else, or to look for something beyond what He has already made known. The Son alone gives us the knowledge of the Father, and He reveals the Father fully.
Philip spoke as though he still had ground to cover. In fact, whoever comes to Christ has already arrived — and Philip was right that the Father would be enough.
His very presence here was to declare the Father. That His own disciples still did not know the Father, after all this, wounds Him in the deepest way... If we have truly come to Christ, we have no further journey to make to reach the Father. We already have the very depth of the Father's heart laid open. And oh, what a wonderful joy it is to take this in by simple faith! Philip was at least right in saying, "It is enough for us"; and nothing less than this can satisfy us.
- Right longing. Philip was right that the Father would be enough. Nothing less than knowing the Father can satisfy anyone.
- Wrong request. He asked for physical sight, while the Lord was speaking of the seeing that belongs to faith.
- Real grief. His words were unbelief. He had missed the Father whom the Son had already revealed.
- One place to look. The Son's words and works show the Father. There is no other display of Him, and nothing beyond Him to find.
- Already enough. Whoever has come to Christ has no further journey to make. In Him the Father's heart lies open — and that is enough.
Jesus says to him, Am I so long a time with you, and thou hast not known me, Philip? He that has seen me has seen the Father; and how sayest thou, Shew us the Father?
Philip has just asked Jesus to show the disciples the Father, saying that would be enough for them. The Lord's answer points them nowhere new. It points them back to Himself, and to the years they had already spent watching Him.
Philip's question was not idle. He had grasped what makes the Father's house worth going to.
Philip wanted to know more about the place. He seemed to grasp that the Person makes the place. The Father is all the joy and blessedness of the Father's house. So he prayed, "Show us the Father, and it is enough for us." How wonderful, by grace, to have the sense that nothing else is needed to fill and satisfy the whole being.
The Lord's reply carries pain. Philip had lived beside the One sent to reveal the Father, and still asked to see Him.
The Lord's reply to Philip is an expression of pain at his lack of understanding… His very presence here was to declare the Father. That His disciples should still not know the Father, after all this, wounds Him in the deepest way… It is a tender but sad rebuke. Had Philip really not known that He was on the Father's mission? that He was Himself the love-gift of God? But we are even less excusable if we do not know it now… If we have truly come to Christ, we do not have a further journey to make to reach the Father. We have had the very depth of the Father's heart told out to us.
Philip wanted something his eyes could take in. But crowds had watched Jesus for years and saw only a workman.
The unbelieving world did not see the Son; all they saw was the supposed son of Joseph — the carpenter. Only faith could see, in that lowly Man, the only begotten Son who came to declare the Father… Abraham could tell us that God is Almighty. Moses could tell us that God is the I AM, eternal and unchanging. But neither Abraham nor Moses was great enough to declare the heart of the Father to us. None but a divine Person is great enough to reveal a divine Person.
The Lord's question — how long He had been with them — is itself the evidence.
Philip says to Him, "Show us the Father," and the Lord answers, in effect: Whom have you been looking at all the time I have been with you? Whose words have you been listening to? Whose works have you seen? Whose moral nature has been displayed before your eyes? "Whoever has seen Me has seen the Father."
That revelation happened on earth, in a life we can still watch.
The nature, character and disposition of God came to light in the Son of God in this world, and not after He ascended back to where He was before. "Whoever has seen Me has seen the Father" was what came out down here, and we do need to contemplate Jesus as He walked if we want to see this in all its fullness.
This is not only a claim about the Father. It is a claim about who Jesus Himself is.
Here the Lord expressly teaches His essential Godhead as one with the Father. No doubt distinct as to personality, as He elsewhere shows, when He says, "the Father is greater than I." But the point insisted on is that He is one in essence…
If that is so, the search for God has an end.
If we want to know God the Father, where are we to learn Him? "Whoever has seen Me has seen the Father." Have our hearts ever looked at Christ as an object and said, while looking, "I have nothing more to seek"? Just think what it is to look at the Lord in the power of the Spirit of God. In that poor despised Man you see One who was God walking on the earth. So when someone sat down beside Him and told Him his sin, he was telling it to God!
- Request — Philip asked for the Father because he sensed that the Person, not the place, is the joy of that home. His instinct was right. He was already looking at the answer.
- Rebuke — The reply is grief, not anger. To live beside the Son and still ask for the Father wounds Him. We have even less excuse.
- Revelation — His words, His works, His whole moral nature showed the Father on earth. That is why we still watch how He walked.
- Recognition — The world saw only a carpenter. Faith sees the Son who came to make the Father known. Only a divine Person can reveal a divine Person.
- Rest — Coming to Christ is not a stage on the way to the Father; there is no further journey and nothing more to seek.
Believest thou not that I [am] in the Father, and that the Father is in me? The words which I speak to you I do not speak from myself; but the Father who abides in me, he does the works.
Philip had just asked the Lord to show him the Father. This verse is the answer: Jesus points to Himself — to His own words and His own works. Two questions sit at the centre. What does it mean that He is in the Father and the Father in Him? And why does He say the words He speaks are not His own?
The words "show us the Father" assume that something more is still to come. The answer closes that door.
Jesus replied, "Whoever has seen Me has seen the Father." So it is useless to look anywhere else, or to hope for some advance on what has been made known in Him. We are limited to the Son for the knowledge of the Father, and in Him the Father is fully revealed.
Everything here turns on who Jesus is. Human reasoning stumbles over such a claim, and the works He did stood behind it.
Everything turned on the glory of His Person. The oneness of the Godhead was the central truth Israel had to testify to, and it was a difficulty for the reasoning mind of man, which cannot rise above its own experience. The law and the prophets had prepared the way, and so had John the Baptist's witness. But more than that, the words Jesus said were not like the words of any other man. They were no mere human things, nor independent of His Father. He had been made flesh, but never ceased to be the Word, the Son; and the works He did bore the unmistakable imprint of the same gracious One — the Father. It was He that did the works. So the disciples were called to believe that He was in the Father, and the Father in Him. Only the Divine nature can be like that. The works themselves bore witness to it, and left unbelievers without excuse.
Notice the odd shape of the sentence. He says the words are not from Himself — yet He does not go on to say that the Father speaks them instead.
I take the words that follow to be connected with these: "I am in the Father and the Father is in me." "I do not speak on my own authority." And, "the Father who dwells in me," and so on. He could not say instead, "But the Father speaks"; for the Son was the word of the Father. He did not speak of Himself, yet He could not distinguish the Persons here. He spoke the word of God; being in the Father, He spoke as the Word of God. This showed His unity with the Father — that He did not speak from Himself.
He lived here in dependence on His Father. His works were real proof of who He was, yet He traced them to the Father and not to Himself.
Religious men who were not born again said the Lord Jesus was "making Himself equal with God" (John 5:18), and they therefore sought to kill Him. He was here doing His Father's will, depending on Him, and He explained that He did nothing on His own. He did work that proved who He was: "For the works that the Father has given Me to accomplish, the very works that I am doing, bear witness about Me," He said. But again, "the Father who dwells in Me does His works." He did His works for the Father's honour and in His Name.
The verse begins with words and ends with works. He puts the two on the same level, and that says something about Him we could never say about ourselves.
Being what He was, His words were as perfect as His works... Our words often say either less or more than the truth. We are often humbled to find that we have failed to say even what we wanted to say. Sometimes our imperfect words have left a wrong, even untrue, impression behind. With Him, on the other hand, every word was perfect, and so a ray of His own glory as well as a display of the Father. We find in John 14 that He identifies His words with His works... The words were as perfect as the works, and both alike the revelation of the Father.
The next verse offers a fallback: if not the Person, then at least the works. Commentators read this as a deliberate step down to meet weak faith.
"Believe me that I am in the Father, and the Father in me; or else believe me for the very works' sake." Now, the latter surely proved that the Father was in Him... The "believe me" depended on His Person, and brought them into communion, in reliance on His word, with the Father. If they could not see that He was in the Father, and so know the value of His word as speaking the words of God, being so one with the Father, let them take the evidence of His truth from the works He did.
- Look here. Do not look past Christ for the Father. The Son is where the Father is fully revealed.
- Hear Him. His words did not come from Himself. Yet He does not name the Father as the speaker instead, because the Son is the Word of the Father.
- Watch Him. He did His Father's will in dependence on Him. He did nothing on His own, and all of it was for the Father's honour.
- Weigh both. Words and works stand together, each as perfect as the other, and both alike a revelation of the Father.
- Believe Him. The disciples were called to believe a union only the Divine nature makes possible, and the works themselves gave a witness that left unbelief without excuse.
Believe *me* that I [am] in the Father and the Father in me; but if not, believe me for the works' sake themselves.
Philip had just asked the Lord to show them the Father. The answer stays on the question of who He Himself is: believe first in His Person, and if that is too hard, believe the works done through Him.
Everything in the passage rests on who He is. That is where the reasoning mind runs into trouble.
Everything turned on the glory of His Person. The very unity of the Godhead was the central truth Israel had to testify to. Yet it became a difficulty to the reasoning mind of man, which cannot rise above its own experience. He had been made flesh, but He never ceased to be the Word, the Son. And the works He did carried the unmistakable stamp of that same gracious One — the Father. It was He who did the works. So the Lord called the disciples to believe that He was in the Father, and the Father in Him. That is a state of being only possible in the Divine nature. The works themselves gave witness to it, and left the unbelieving without excuse.
The verse gives an alternative — "or else." One writer weighs what each route achieves. He works from an older wording of the verse: "believe me for the very works' sake."
"Believe me that I am in the Father, and the Father in me; or else believe me for the very works' sake." Now the second surely proved that the Father was in Him. But it could serve here, and did, only to prove the truth of His word — "believe me for." The "believe me" rested on His Person. It drew them into communion, trusting His word along with the Father. Suppose they could not see that He was in the Father, and so could not know the worth of His word as speaking the words of God, being so one with the Father. Then let them take the evidence of His truthfulness from the works He did.
That the Lord offers a second ground at all is worth noticing. One writer sees grace in it.
I find the grace of the Lord in this chapter 14. He has to come down to a lower testimony (verse 10). He drops the other question for the present, and comes down to words and works. "Who worked these words and works in me? What do you think of them?" If they would not receive them, they were denying His place as servant. He would not say His own words and works: "The Father who dwells in me, He does the works."
The works prove both halves of the sentence. But they prove each half in a different way.
The works of His Father done by Him confirmed all He claimed, in the fullest way. They implied the Father abiding in Him, in the power displayed. They implied His abiding in the Father, in intimacy of communion. So there was enough witness to the truth of His claims; and if they would not believe His words, they might at least believe His works.
He makes this appeal in private, to His own disciples, and He means a particular class of works.
"If not … for the very works' sake." Here it must be kept in mind that our Lord is addressing His disciples. It is His works, not as Messiah, but as Son of God.
Nor were such works bare displays of strength. What they said about God was as much part of the evidence as the power behind them.
Miracles confirmed the word, and the word was the proper and express revelation of God's mind. But miracles were also a testimony in and of themselves. They spoke not only of power but of goodness — of God working in goodness in the middle of sorrow and misery, and doing it in the most definite and distinct way.
The Lord put this question to Philip alone, then pressed the same call on them all.
"Do you not believe," said the Lord to Philip, "that I am in the Father and the Father is in Me?" Words and works both attested it. "Believe Me," He said to all, "that I am in the Father and the Father in Me." His being man in no way hindered or lowered His dignity, nor His essential oneness with the Father. It was, and is, of the greatest importance for believers to hold this firmly and with worship. The Son is God, even as the Father.
- Person first. The first call is to trust who He is: in the Father, and the Father in Him. That way of being belongs to the Divine nature alone.
- Word second. Trust His Person and His words carry their true weight. He speaks the words of God because He is one with the Father.
- Works as fallback. If faith cannot yet see His Person, the works stand as evidence of His truthfulness. They prove the Father was dwelling in Him.
- Grace in the descent. He comes down to a lower testimony rather than leave slow hearts behind. The works He points to are His Father's.
- Left without excuse. Power joined to goodness made the witness complete, so unbelief has no defence.
Verily, verily, I say to you, He that believes on me, the works which I do shall he do also, and he shall do greater than these, because I go to the Father.
Jesus is getting His disciples ready for His departure. His promise here is startling, and it raises two questions: what are these greater works, and how could anyone do more than Jesus did?
Up to this point the disciples had watched Jesus work. The double "truly, truly" signals a shift.
Here the Lord stops speaking of His words and works, which the disciples had enjoyed while He was still with them. He passes on to the new and deeper experience of His power after His departure to the Father. The words "Truly, truly" mark the change — words generally used to introduce some fresh truth. So the Lord reveals to His amazed disciples a new truth. After His departure the believer in Jesus would do the works that Jesus had done in person, and, more surprising still, would do greater works.
The verse itself gives the reason, and it says nothing about the quality of the workers.
The Lord Himself gives the answer. It sits in the short sentence "because I am going to the Father." Of course, He far surpasses all who came after Him, both in personal glory and in moral beauty. The reason for the greater works that were to follow had little to do with the servants who were used to perform them. Rather, the greater works flowed from the glory of Christ. They reflected that He was no longer on earth, in lowliness, but glorified by and with the Father.
Commentators point to what happened once He had gone and the Holy Spirit had come.
And more than this, the day was coming, as stated in verse 12, when the disciples would do similar and even greater works. That was because He was going to the Father, which, as we have learned in John 7, meant the coming of the Spirit… Before His death and resurrection the Lord was restricted (Luke 12:50). But once that was done and the Spirit given, He could work freely by the Spirit through His disciples. No day in the Lord's ministry saw 3,000 souls converted, as on the Day of Pentecost. Nor did His labours cover the mighty circuit "from Jerusalem and all the way around to Illyricum," as Paul's did.
Even in outward signs, the servants did things the Master never did in person.
…the power that would clothe the believer, and enable him to do not only what they had seen Jesus do, but greater things still in honour of His name. And this came true to the letter. We never hear of the Lord's shadow healing the sick. No cloths were taken from His body to cure disease or drive out demons. And that is not to mention the crowds brought in far and wide by the preaching of the apostles. What greater proof of divine power than to work as He Himself did, and yet more by His servants!
Some claim this promise as a licence for ongoing healing ministries. One writer answers that claim directly, notes where Scripture is silent, and points to spiritual works.
Verse 12 has been a difficulty to many… Christian Scientists and extreme faith-healers claim that He meant His actual works of healing. They say Christians should do the same works now, and even greater works. But how could a believer do a greater work than the raising of Lazarus from the dead? The promise that the believer "will also do the works that I do" came true right after the day of Pentecost. Peter's shadow healed the sick, the lame man was healed, demons were driven out, and the dead were raised. Were these miracles to continue to the end of the age? Scripture nowhere states that this should be the case. The "greater works" are spiritual works. The thousands saved at the start of this age, and the preaching of the gospel far away among the Gentiles with its gracious results — these are the greater works.
The next verses show how believers draw on this power.
So the Lord had guaranteed a solemn and cheering promise. His going to the Father would in no way stop and dry up the mighty stream of gracious power in which He had worked here below. … He now follows this up and explains it by the place He gives to faith at work in prayer. From now on prayer would have its fullest character in His name — the name of the One who had glorified the Father to the uttermost.
- Cause — "Because I am going to the Father" is the hinge of the verse. The greater works flow from Christ's glory, not from the quality of the workers.
- Gift — His going meant the Spirit's coming. What was restricted during His time on earth could now flow freely through His disciples.
- Reach — The greatness is one of scale. Three thousand converted in a day; the gospel carried from Jerusalem to Illyricum; signs never seen while He was here in person.
- Guard — Scripture nowhere promises that such miracles continue to the end. The verse is not a charter for modern healing claims.
- Access — The promise runs on into prayer. Asking in His name draws on the same power.
And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, this will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son.
On the night before the cross, Jesus gives His disciples something they have never had: the right to use His name in prayer. The promise sounds boundless. Yet two things shape it — the words "in my name," and the goal of glorifying the Father in the Son.
Commentators note when this privilege begins.
Here, for the first time, we read of prayer in His name. When He gave the disciples the prayer of Matthew 6, He did not tell them to ask in His name. In John 16:24 we hear from His own lips that this was something quite new: "Until now you have asked nothing in my name." The prayer of Matthew 6 was prayer to the Father. It was the pouring out of the heart to God by someone who knew he was God's child. But prayer in His name was unknown until Christ made atonement by His blood.
The phrase is not a closing formula tacked onto whatever we happen to want.
So it matters greatly to find out what the words "in my name" mean. They cannot mean simply saying the words, or ending our prayers with "through our Lord Jesus Christ." That would tie the answer of prayer to a mere formula. Even between people, no one may use another's name without his consent and authority. In the same way we cannot use the name of Christ in our prayers without His warrant — a warrant we must find in His own Word. And we have that warrant for every prayer the Holy Spirit stirs in us. With it we come before God with all the authority of Christ Himself, and such prayers rise with the same power as if Christ presented them Himself.
One word carries two sides. First, it shuts nothing out:
"Whatever" tells us that no subject and no area of life falls outside this promise in advance. In principle, a Christian can "ask in His name" about any issue and any situation in life. He or she just has to make sure the request does not go against God's will.
Second, the added words draw a boundary.
"Whatever" is the promise, but the words "in my name" define and limit it. As another has said: "Whatever! If it stood alone, it would be boundless, and the Lord would have opened the door to every desire of unbroken self-will among His people. But He adds, in my name. This is His limit — the barrier He sets up."
The one who is leaving promises to be the one who acts.
The disciples were to count on power that could not fail, if they sought it in His name. Jesus was no mere man, whose departure must end what He used to do when present. Though absent, He would prove Himself Divine. He was no less interested in their requests now that He had risen from the dead. Whatever they might ask, He would do, so that the Father might be glorified in the Son.
The Son acts with one aim in view: the Father's glory.
In Matthew 18, the Father would answer prayer for the honour of the Son. Here the Son will answer their prayers, so that the Father might be glorified. In every activity on earth the Son had sought the Father's glory. In His exalted place in heaven, the Father's glory would still be before Him. And how wonderful that the Father has tied His own glory to the blessing of those He has given to the Son, so that the two can never be parted. Such is the Father's grace!
Because the name carries such weight, it also sifts what we bring.
It is a real thing to use the name of Christ in prayer. When we do, the request goes up to the Father tied to all that the Son is to Him. The Lord has promised to answer such prayers, so that the Father should be glorified in the Son. What a healthy check this could be on rash and thoughtless asking! How many a prayer would never be spoken, if the one praying stopped to ask: Can I present this in that name?
- New — Prayer in Christ's name starts here. Before the cross it was unknown, even in the prayer of Matthew 6.
- Warrant — The name is not a closing phrase. It is borrowed authority, and it needs the owner's permission.
- Whatever — No subject is shut out in advance. But "in my name" is the barrier that keeps self-will from walking through the open door.
- He acts — "This I will do" is the pledge of a Lord whose absence never weakened His power or His interest in our prayers.
- Glory — The end of it all is the Father glorified in the Son, and He has tied that glory to the blessing of His own.
If ye shall ask anything in my name, I will do it.
Here Jesus is about to leave His disciples, and He hands them something to use in His absence: His own name. The promise sounds unlimited — so what does it mean to ask "in my name," and does "anything" really mean anything?
Verse 13 already gave a wide assurance. Verse 14 says it again, and one writer explains why the repetition matters:
The disciples were to count on power that could not fail, if sought in His name. Jesus was no mere man, whose departure must end what He used to do while present. Absent, He would prove Himself divine, and no less interested in their requests because He was risen from the dead. He is not content with the broad assurance of verse 13, which holds no matter what the difficulty. He repeats it in verse 14 about any particular request of theirs, and His pledge of personal action there is even more emphatic.
Translations differ here. Some include the word "me," and one writer traced why:
In John 14:14 the "Englishman's Greek New Testament" gives a footnote reading, "If you ask Me anything." One of the latest Greek lexicons (Nestle) puts the word "Me" in the text itself.
Asking in the name of Jesus was new, and it belongs to the time when He is no longer here.
This mighty power was available for faith expressing itself through prayer in His name. As one writer has truly said: "When you ask in the name of another, you take his claims, his merits, and his right to be heard as your own." The Lord, by His own words, gives this privilege to those who are in relationship with Himself by faith. It was something new to the disciples to ask in the name of Christ. Like everything else in these discourses, it grows out of the Lord's departure. Asking in His name assumes the absence of Christ. The phrase "ask in My name" occurs five times in these discourses.
One writer tests the phrase against ordinary life:
It could not mean simply saying the words. It could not mean ending our prayers with "through our Lord Jesus Christ." That would tie the answer to a mere formula. Even in human dealings, you cannot use another person's name without his consent and authority... In the same way we cannot use the name of Christ in our prayers without His warrant, and we find that warrant in His own Word.
One writer measures how wide the promise runs:
When I appear before God in the name of Christ, I present my requests in all the value of that name to God. That is why our Lord says, "If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it" — because it is the joy of the heart of God to grant every request presented that way. The promise is absolute, with no limit at all. The reason is simple: no one could ask in the name of Christ for anything that went against the will of God.
That width still has a guard:
This does not mean an automatic system or a "self-service shop." It is not a mechanism for reaching our human or even selfish goals. If a small child reaches for a knife, of course his parents will not give it to him. But if he comes hungry, they will feed him.
The answer has an aim beyond the one who prays:
The glory of the Father is bound up in the Son's response to the poor feeble cry of His people. Wonderful to say, the Son heightens that glory by the gracious way He takes up our "whatever." What tremendous encouragement to pray. "I will do it," He says, for no object lower than the glory of the Father.
One writer turns this into a test before we pray:
It is a real thing to use the name of Christ in prayer. In that case the request goes up to the Father in connection with all that the Son is to Him... But what a healthy check that could prove on rash and thoughtless requests! How many a prayer would never have been spoken, if the one praying had only stopped to ask himself: Can I present this in that name?
- Name given. Asking in Christ's name is a privilege that starts with His departure — it means coming with His claims, His merits, His right to be heard.
- Name honoured. The words are not a closing formula; using someone's name needs his authority, and Christ gives ours in His own Word.
- Name wide. "Anything" excludes no area of life, because nothing truly asked in that name can run against the will of God.
- Name guarded. The promise is not a vending machine; a Father who feeds a hungry child still refuses him a knife.
- Name glorified. The Son answers for one purpose above every other — that the Father may be glorified in the Son.
If ye love me, keep my commandments.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And I will beg the Father, and he will give you another Comforter, that he may be with you for ever,
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it does not see him nor know him; but ye know him, for he abides with you, and shall be in you.
Jesus has just promised another Helper, and here He gives Him a name: the Spirit of truth. Two questions follow — why can the world not receive Him, and what is the difference between the Spirit being with the disciples and in them?
The title links the Helper to what the Lord had just said about Himself — truth set before us in Christ, then truth put inside us:
The Comforter is also the Spirit of truth. Truth, together with grace, "came through Jesus Christ" (John 1:17), and He is the truth, as we have just seen, set before us outside ourselves. The Spirit of truth is now to come, living in the saints, and so bringing truth inside them.
The Lord does not say the world will not receive Him. He says it cannot:
It is not that the world does not receive Him; it cannot receive Him. He is not put before the world as a testimony to accept or refuse. He brings the world the testimony of a heavenly Christ — the One they rejected, for all the Father's grace. The world has no capacity to receive Him. It only receives what it sees and knows, and it neither sees nor knows Him whom the Father has sent.
There is a plain reason behind that. The Son came in human flesh; the Spirit never did:
The Spirit of truth! Could I expect a world of falsehood to receive Him? No… The Holy Spirit never came in a human body. What the world sees it is prepared to believe. What it does not see it refuses to believe… He was not put before the world as an object for it to receive.
The Lord never says the disciples see the Spirit. He says they know Him:
Men of the world are not born of God, so they are bound entirely to the material world. It does not say that we see Him, but it does say we "know Him." Something is already in our souls that is the Spirit's own work, and as He makes His home in our hearts as the Comforter, we are conscious that He is there — we "know Him."
The verse ends with two promises, not one:
Here it is a special possession of the Spirit. His personal presence is something only the Christian has… It is the privilege of the believer here below, and of no one else: "for he dwells with you and will be in you." The Spirit does not just give them a passing taste of blessing; He dwells with them. And more than that: He does not only dwell with them — "He will be in them." There is this double truth: the dwelling with, and also the being in.
Both halves came true on one day — Pentecost, when the Spirit came — and each has its own line of teaching in the letters that follow:
This was fulfilled at Pentecost. In Acts 2:2 we first find that the Spirit "filled the entire house" — that is, He came to be with them. Then "they were all filled with the Holy Spirit" (v. 4). The first we find in 1 Cor. 3:16-17 and 2 Cor. 6:16: "you are God's temple" — one temple, not many. The second in 1 Cor. 6:19: "your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you."
Commentators differ over "He dwells with you." A common reading takes it of Christ Himself, already with them as He spoke. One writer calls that a mistake:
I have not the least doubt that the interpretation of John 14:17, though very common, is a mere blunder. "Dwells" is the same word as "abide" in verse 16. Christ the Comforter would not "abide" with them as He then was, nor was He "with" them. The other Comforter would abide "with" them, and "be in" them.
The promise waited on two things: the work of redemption finished, and Christ glorified at God's right hand:
The Spirit could not come until Jesus was gone… Redemption had to be accomplished, and Christ had to be glorified as man at God's right hand, before God could give such a gift to the saints. The work is done, Jesus has gone, and the Comforter is here… How much real unbelief there is about the personal presence of the Divine Spirit! Many today pray for His outpouring, or for a fresh baptism, while others fear He will leave them because of their shortcomings and failures. But He is to be with us for ever, and the righteous basis for that is the sacrifice of Christ.
- Named — He is the Spirit of truth: Christ is the truth before us, and the Spirit brings that truth inside us.
- Refused — the world cannot receive Him. It has no capacity for Him, it lives by what it sees, and He never came as an object for it to look at.
- Known — believers are never said to see Him, only to know Him. His work in the soul makes us conscious that He is here.
- With — He filled the house at Pentecost: the saints together are God's temple.
- In — then He filled each one: your own body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, and, resting on the sacrifice of Christ, He stays for ever.
I will not leave you orphans, I am coming to you.
Jesus is about to leave His disciples. He knows how His going will feel to them — like children who lose the one person nobody can replace. His answer is a promise, not advice. He will not leave them desolate, because He Himself is coming to them.
The force of the verse lies in the picture Jesus chose. One writer starts with the disciples who first heard it, then draws out why kindness from others could never be enough:
The Lord spoke these words to His bewildered and sorrowful disciples, and they had a very special meaning for them: they were to see Him alive from the dead. They did see Him; they looked with wonder on His wounded hands and side. But they are also good and true words for us... Think about the words, "I will not leave you as orphans." This is what they mean: I will not leave you desolate, forlorn, lonely, and uncared for. It is all that and more. Others may care for an orphan, and care very tenderly, but the heart cries out for the love of relationship. "I want my mother" is the cry that breaks from the heart of the bereaved child. I will not leave you crying out like that for Me, said the Lord, I will come to you.
The same writer turns the word into a description of what we are in ourselves, apart from Christ:
An orphan is one who is without a protector or guide, without help or resource... we are orphans, defenceless and destitute, if we do not have the Lord. Well, to a company of nobodies such as we are, the Lord says, "I will come to you." And then we have everything, and we glory in the Lord.
Earlier in the chapter Jesus promised to come again and receive His own to Himself. Verse 18 sits in a different setting. He has just spoken of the coming of the Holy Spirit. Several writers read the two promises as distinct:
In John 14:3 we have the Lord coming again in person to take His own to be with Himself. In verse 18 we have His spiritual coming to us now. Before that second promise, and to prepare for it, He tells of the coming of the Holy Spirit (verse 16).
One writer names which coming is meant, and how far it stood from what the disciples were hoping for:
But the Lord said, "I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you." He does not mean here His future coming, but the gift of the Spirit. So He would comfort them while He was away... Nothing could be further from what they thought and expected of the Messiah of Israel, seen by every eye.
This question is old, and writers have never all answered it the same way. Kelly lists them:
Tholuck, Meyer, Luthardt, Godet, Plummer and Charles also take this "coming" as the Holy Spirit. Zahn, following Augustine, understands it as the coming spoken of in verse 3. Ewald and Weiss take it here of the Lord's appearance to His disciples after His resurrection.
Another writer reads the promise as covering three stages:
He would not leave them as orphans, but would come to them: first in person after He rose, then in spirit, and at last in person from heaven. Their eternal life would depend on nothing but its flowing from Him. Could they be joined to Him any more closely?
Kelly ties the promise to the life the Lord Himself lives:
"I will not," He says with emphasis, "leave you as orphans" (that is, by leaving them); "I will come to you"... Community of nature is taught here... "Because I live, you also will live." Nothing can be more intimate than this.
One writer reads the promise as made to the gathered company, and names what opens the door to Him:
Christ comes to the company of those on earth who have shut the door on the first man — that is, on themselves. "I will not leave you [the company] as orphans; I will come to you." (John 14:18.) He comes to that company whenever He can, and whenever they make room for Him in this way.
Another writer sets that beside a later promise, made to the believer standing alone:
Earlier the Lord had promised His presence to His own together... now the promise is to the individual believer. So often down the centuries, and in these last days, devoted saints of God have found themselves isolated and alone because of their faithfulness to Christ. If others desert them, or if they cannot meet with other believers, they can still have the companionship of Christ.
- Orphaned. The word means desolate and unprotected. That is what we are in ourselves — no guide, no help, no resource.
- Not abandoned. Kindness from others cannot answer an orphan's cry. Only the One the heart cries for can, and He promises to come.
- How He comes. Most writers tie the promise to the gift of the Spirit. Others read it of His appearances after the resurrection, or of His return in verse 3. On this, commentators differ.
- What He brings. Not just comfort while He is away, but shared life: because He lives, His own live.
- Where He comes. To the gathered company that makes room for Him, and to the believer left standing alone.