I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman.
On the last night before the cross, Jesus takes up a picture the Old Testament had already made famous: a vine planted and tended by God. He puts Himself at its centre. Who is the vine now, who are the branches, and what is the Father doing with them?
The subject shifts between chapter 14 and chapter 15.
In John 15 Jesus looks at His disciples as in the world, with the privilege and responsibility that go with it, not in their new place and state before the Father, which was the theme in John 14. There He gave them His place before the Father. Now they are identified with Him in His place before the world.
The word "true" points back to a vine that failed. The eleven disciples listening had grown up on that story.
The Lord introduces the subject of fruit-bearing with the words, "I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser." Such words would have sounded strange to the Eleven. The Psalms and the Prophets had taught them to think of Israel as the vine. Psalm 80 had spoken of Israel as a vine brought out of Egypt. Isaiah, in the song of the Beloved about His vineyard, uses the vine to picture the love and care Jehovah had spent on Israel. Jeremiah speaks of Israel as "a noble vine." But Israel had brought forth no fruit for God. Isaiah mourns that they produced only "wild grapes." Jeremiah complains that the "noble vine" became "the degenerate plant of a strange vine." In the same way Hosea speaks of Israel as an "empty vine," only bringing "forth fruit to himself," but nothing for God.
(These Old Testament phrases follow an older translation. The ESV renders Jeremiah 2:21: "you have turned degenerate and become a wild vine.")
The disciples expected the Messiah to be Israel's finest product. He says something else.
Israel would have thought Him the best branch in the vine, but no — He is the Vine and they are the branches.
The two vines work in opposite directions.
With Israel as the unfruitful vine, the branches had to supply the fruit to the vine, not the vine to the branches. Israel had been put under the law, which demanded a response but gave no power to meet its claims. In the case of the true vine, it is the blessed Lord who supplies the sap and strength and vitality that are needed.
Notice what the image rules out, and what it is actually about.
The scene of the parable is obviously earth and not heaven; we do not think of a vine and a vinedresser in heaven. The figure is very distinct. It is not the Head and the members, but a tree and its branches. And the subject of the parable is as distinct as the parable itself: it is not eternal life, but fruit-bearing.
The same distinction cuts through an old dispute between two schools of interpretation.
Clear as these words are, bias has misunderstood them. Calvinists and Arminians each twist them to fit their own scheme. Both start by assuming that the picture of the vine means union with Christ, or membership of His body. But this Gospel never teaches His body, and no one teaches it but the apostle Paul. Scripture teaches union in other places, not here. Here the subject is communion. Union is a settled fact in the spiritual realm, on the basis of Christ's death and by the power of the given Spirit. But communion is conditional, and so may or may not exist, since it depends on abiding in Christ.
Everything turns on who is tending the branches.
Here is the Father bound in this responsible office of love. He cares for the branches according to that love, and according to the character of the stock of the Vine in which they are. How beautiful that this office rests in the Father's care! Notice too the sureness of the work of the vineyard. There may be many vinedressers, but the real vinedresser of the vine is the Father. It is "I," and also "My Father."
The fruit He looks for has a definite character.
The Father is seeking fruit from those who are branches in the True Vine. The fruit He seeks and values is the reproduction of the virtues of His Son. So as a true vinedresser He removes what does not bear fruit. He prunes and helps on what does, to increase still more the fruit He delights to see.
- True — the word points back to a vine that failed. God planted and tended Israel, and it yielded wild grapes. Christ now stands in that place as the real one.
- Stem, not branch — the disciples expected Messiah to be the finest branch on the national tree. He claims to be the vine itself, the one source of fruit for God.
- Supply, not demand — the old vine demanded fruit from branches with no power to give it. The true Vine feeds His own branches with His own life.
- Earth, not heaven — there is no vine or vinedresser in heaven. The subject is fruit-bearing here and now, not eternal life, and not the body of Christ.
- Father, not chance — many may claim to tend the vine, but the real vinedresser is the Father. The fruit He is after is the character of His Son showing up in you.
[As to] every branch in me not bearing fruit, he takes it away; and [as to] every one bearing fruit, he purges it that it may bring forth more fruit.
The Lord calls Himself the true vine and His Father the vinedresser. One test sorts the branches: fruit. He removes one kind and cuts the other back. Why does the same hand that removes also wound what it loves?
Commentators point to one key that unlocks the passage. Vines grow on earth, so the union in view here is an earthly one.
"Every branch in Me that bears fruit," He says. This shows that the branch must be in Him, the true Vine, if it is to bear fruit. This sentence gives us the key to the passage. The union spoken of here is an earthly union, for vines do not grow in heaven… So our union with Christ as members of His body is not what is meant here. That union cannot be broken, and it does not depend on us at all.
If every branch had real life, this removal would make no sense. Writers answer that the vine includes everyone who claims Christ's name, real or not.
True blessing and fruitfulness for God no longer depended on being children of Abraham by birth, able to call Jacob their father. It all depended on a living connection with Christ. He was the true vine here on earth… So the question of profession comes up, and with it the question of fruitfulness. A vine might have branches on it that bore no fruit. A person might claim to be Christ's disciple without the claim being real. As the vinedresser removes the barren branches of a vine, so the Father, shown here as the vinedresser, takes away those whose discipleship is not real.
Missing this difference costs more than clarity.
There is an immense difference between salvation and fruit-bearing, between being a branch of the vine and a member of Christ's body. If you miss this difference, you lose the teaching of John 15. Worse still, you put at risk the peace of conscience that belongs to those who rest on Christ and His work. When I think of salvation, I think of grace; but when fruit-bearing is before my mind, I think of responsibility.
Commentators differ on who is taken away.
There is the sad possibility that some branches, though having a living link with the vine, may bring forth no fruit. Such the Father takes away. These branches are very different from the withered branches of verse 6. Here it is the Father who takes away; there it is men who throw them out and burn them.
The vinedresser is not chasing activity in general. He is watching for something specific.
The Father is seeking fruit from those who are branches in the True Vine. It is a privilege given and jealously watched over by the Father. The fruit He seeks and values is the reproduction of the virtues of His Son. Therefore as a true vinedresser He removes what does not bear fruit and prunes and helps on what does, to increase yet more the fruit He delights to see.
Trials often come just when a believer starts to bear fruit. This verse explains the timing.
Many of the Lord's dear children are dismayed when they find themselves in trial… They overlook the blessed truth revealed to us here: pruning always follows fruit bearing. Bear even a little fruit, and you may be sure the vinedresser will not spare the pruning knife. Once, walking round an orchard, I saw a tree that had not been pruned. I asked the gardener why he had neglected it when all the others showed the marks of his care. He replied, "That tree is half dead. I have no hope of it bearing more fruit, so I do not think it worth the trouble of pruning." Another day I saw a tree cut back so hard that to my eyes it looked almost ruined. Again I asked the gardener, "Why was this?" "Ah Sir," he replied, "that is my finest tree. I look for more fruit from that tree in autumn than from any other in the garden."
The cutting has a target, and how we take it decides what it produces in us.
The Father chastens and disciplines us to remove everything that keeps the character of Christ from showing. It may indeed be painful, for "no discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it" (Heb. 12:11). If we take His dealings to heart before the Father, hardship will not sour us or make us bitter. It will soften us instead, so that the character of Christ is seen in us and we bear fruit.
Pruning does not only remove what is wicked. It removes what is merely spare.
A vineyard, above all, shows the need of pruning… To get the fruit that is wanted, a vine needs the knife used on it without sparing… The lesson is the need of concentration: turning all our energy into what has profit in it, and spending none on what is merely harmless. This is not legalism or strict self-denial. As we may learn from the connection here, it is what makes for happiness as well as fruitfulness.
- Vine — the picture is earthly, and it covers everyone who takes Christ's name. Being a member of His body is a separate truth, and that link cannot be cut.
- Fruitless — fruit is what shows the claim is real. The Father removes the branch that has none.
- Fruit — what He looks for is the character of His Son showing up in His people.
- Knife — pruning follows fruit. Trial is a sign of value, not of rejection. The tree left alone is the hopeless one.
- More fruit — the knife cuts away what hinders Christ's likeness and what is merely spare. It puts all our energy into what bears.
Ye are already clean by reason of the word which I have spoken to you.
The words come right after Jesus speaks of a Father who prunes fruit-bearing branches. The first thing He says to the men listening is that the pruning has already done its work in them. What does it mean to be "clean" by a spoken word, when the cross had not yet happened and the Spirit had not yet come?
Jesus does not tell the disciples to become clean. He tells them what His word has already done in them. One commentator names three places where that word did its work:
They had received His word, and knew that He came from God, though they knew the Father only in part, if at all. Yet Christ's word had worked in their souls. It had cleansed their ways. It had judged their worldly thoughts. It had exposed their sinful desires. The effect was real in their consciences… They were clean already, even before the Holy Spirit was given as power from on high.
One word links this verse to the one before it. The word has already done to these men what the Father does to fruitful branches in verse 2. Judas has gone, so this time no one in the room is an exception. The commentator below starts from an older translation, which read "Now you are clean."
"Now you are clean" is "already you are clean." The "you are not all clean" in chapter 13 refers to Judas. Here there is no exception, because Judas had gone out… He says, "Every branch in Me that bears fruit, He prunes." And in verse 3, "Now you are already pruned." It is the same word. They were clean in the sense of "pruned," only the pruning continues. It is like the man who has been bathed and needs only to wash his feet. This is the first of those washings.
This verse is not about paying for guilt. Two different needs, two different remedies — and both came from the pierced side of Christ.
The Lord came by water, speaking His Father's word, and could say to His disciples, "Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you." This word of the Lord produced moral cleansing. But something more was needed to remove their guilt, and to cleanse the stain their guilt had produced. That something more was the shedding and sprinkling of blood… John witnessed the blood and water that flowed from the side of Christ, and has put it on record.
Notice the timing. When Jesus called them clean, the cross was still ahead and Christian baptism did not yet exist. So no ceremony made them clean.
When God's word enters the soul by faith, it deals with the conscience in a purifying way. It awakens a sense of sin, and produces repentance toward God… So the Lord told the disciples, "Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you." The atoning work was not yet done. Christian baptism was not commanded or even possible. It was God's word that worked in His grace.
Being clean is not the end of the story. The same word keeps working, and it is aiming at a life that matches His own mind.
The point here is the cleansing that keeps going on right now. The Lord Jesus has you in hand. He wants to teach you. He wants to bring you up in His ways, ways that agree with His own mind and will. There are things about you that do not please Him — in your words, in your thoughts, in your ways and friendships. They are not according to His mind, and He wants to cleanse you from them. And how will He do it? He does it by His word.
If the eleven were already clean, why would the Father still cut anything away? The answer turns on who holds the knife, and why.
The Father Himself does this pruning or cleansing. So we should not see such dealing as discipline for something done wrong, where a person suffers the fruit of his own ways. It is the Father's dealing to get more fruit. The eleven were already clean by the word that Christ had spoken to them. Yet the Father would still cleanse them, to remove anything that might keep them from bearing more fruit.
- Already. Not pending, but settled. Christ's word had done its work in them before the cross, before the Spirit was given, and without any ceremony.
- Pruned. "Clean" is the same word as "prunes" in verse 2. The eleven showed what the Father does to fruitful branches.
- Water. The word cleanses morally; the blood answers guilt. Both flowed from Christ's side, and we need both.
- Ongoing. The first washing is not repeated; the daily one goes on. The word keeps dealing with our words, thoughts, ways and friendships.
- Fruit. The Father's aim in every cut is never punishment but more fruit from a branch already clean.
Abide in me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abide in the vine, thus neither [can] ye unless ye abide in me.
The Lord pictures Himself as a vine and His disciples as its branches. Two things need explaining: what it means to abide in Him, and why a branch's own effort produces nothing.
The word behind "abide" is not a special religious term. It runs through John's Gospel and is translated in several ways, all pointing to the same plain idea of staying put.
The word 'abide' is used by John very frequently. It is rendered in different ways. Sometimes it is 'remain' and at other times it is 'continue', but all having the same basic meaning.
Put into everyday language, the command asks for nearness and reliance — the same word used elsewhere of sticking close to the Lord with settled purpose.
Fruitfulness is promoted by abiding in Christ. What does it really mean to do this? It may be more easily understood if we say, "Keep close to the Lord! Draw all your resources from Him." In the book of Acts 11:23 one of the Lord's servants, Barnabas by name, urged the believers "to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose." The word "remain faithful" [older versions: "cleave"] is the same word as "abide" in the original.
The verse joins a command to a promise, and the order matters.
First, we see what alone is enough for the fruit required. It is what the very nature of a branch implies — to abide in the vine. Apart from Christ we can do nothing. If the branch does not abide in the vine, the vine — the vine-sap — cannot abide in the branch. That is why the Lord's words come in this order: "Abide in Me, and I in you." "Abide in Me" — that is the command, the responsibility; "and I in you" — that will be the assured result.
A branch does no work. It stays attached, and life flows in. The same holds for the disciple, and it holds when life turns hard.
Here the Lord insists on more. We must depend on Him and be close to Him. This is to abide in Christ… He, and He only, is the dwelling-place for the soul in this world of traps and danger, in this desert where there is no water. Make Him the resource, make Him the object. Then the sap, as it were, flows without hindrance, and the branch bears fruit. Without Him no teaching works, and all religious excitement fails. Bring Him in, trust Him, and He sustains the heart, and fruit-bearing follows — no matter what the difficulty, the pain, the shame, the opposition or the slander.
Does the word "unless" mean a believer's salvation hangs by a thread?
No — that is not the meaning of these words. What they teach is that the only possible way of fruit-bearing is to abide in Christ, as a branch abides in the vine. And the one evidence of abiding in Christ is fruit-bearing… It is not a question of a branch abiding in Christ today and not tomorrow. It is a question of two sorts of branches: the fruit-bearing branches and the non-fruit-bearing branches. It is a question of what claims to be for the Lord on earth, and in that sense everyone who claims His name is a branch. But if there is no living union with Him there will be no fruit, and such a branch will in the end be cast out, as Judas was.
Scripture also uses a different picture: the Church as one body joined to Christ its Head.
Heavenly grace forms that one body by the one Spirit, united to the glorified Head. There we do not hear of tearing, wounding, or cutting off… Responsibility on earth under divine government is another thing. The Vine and its branches teach that, not the unfailing heavenly relationship of the Church.
So where does abiding start? With the question of what fills your thoughts.
Is it your fruit-bearing or Christ? If it is your fruit-bearing, it is self-occupation, and as a result the fruit will be poor in both quantity and quality. But if you have learnt what He means when He says, "Apart from ME you can do nothing," and so have turned wholly to Him — the Source of your life, strength and energy — fruit will not be lacking. You abide in Him when you realise that you can't do without Him, and when you know that all you need is in Him. Two words cover it. He is INDISPENSABLE to you, and He is ALL-SUFFICIENT.
What makes abiding a habit rather than a mood?
You will abide in Him HABITUALLY when you know His love as greater than all other loves, Himself better than the brightest and best below… The secret of constant abiding in Him is simply the knowledge of His love.
- Stay — To abide is to keep close to the Lord and draw all your resources from Him.
- Order — "Abide in Me" is the command and our responsibility; "and I in you" is the assured result that follows.
- Sap — A branch bears nothing by effort. It stays attached, life flows in, and fruit comes even under opposition.
- Fruit, not safety — The vine teaches fruit and responsibility on earth, not the fear of being lost. The body joined to its Head speaks of a heavenly relationship that never fails.
- Love — Constant abiding grows from knowing His love. Watching your own fruit only shrinks the harvest.
I am the vine, ye [are] the branches. He that abides in me and I in him, *he* bears much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing.
Jesus uses a picture from a vineyard to show His disciples where fruit for God comes from. Everything depends on staying joined to Him. It raises two questions the commentators keep returning to. What is this "fruit," and what does it mean to abide?
The disciples already knew a vine — their own nation. Commentators read this verse as Christ taking its place.
The disciples were used to thinking of Israel as the vine the Lord had planted. He brought it out of Egypt and planted it in the land He had chosen... Here the Lord sets Israel aside altogether and puts Himself in the place of that fruitless vine. Christ is the True Vine, and His Father is the gardener who tends it. This is not His work in heaven as Advocate (John 13). Nor is it His coming as our Hope, to place us with Himself in the Father's house (John 14). It is His relation to His own people on earth, for bearing fruit. Christ is all.
Writers warn against mixing this picture up with another one — the church as a body joined to Christ its Head. The two teach different things.
The relation of head and body serves quite another purpose in Scripture, and we must keep the two completely separate... There it is the church seen as the object of Christ's unfailing love, until He presents it to Himself in glory. Responsibility on earth, under God's rule, is another thing. The Vine and its branches teach that responsibility, not the unfailing heavenly relationship of the Church.
If "much fruit" meant sermons, converts or visible activity, the verse would belong to a talented few. Commentators point somewhere else.
Fruit is the character of Christ reproduced in the lives of His disciples. We read in Galatians 5:22 that "the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control." These are the very qualities that marked Christ in His life here on earth... Fruit, then, is not preaching and teaching, or different forms of service. In this passage it is not even souls won for Christ through preaching. It is the beautiful qualities of Christ seen in the people who are won. Yet a person can be very active in Christian service and still show little of the character of Christ.
That definition changes who can bear fruit.
If service and work were fruit, then only those with gift and ability could bear it. But if fruit is the character of Christ, then every believer can bear fruit, from the oldest to the youngest — and it is a privilege to do so.
The verse joins two things — our abiding in Him, and His abiding in us. Writers note that one follows the other.
All the resources of the Father are in the Son, and we can only draw on those resources as we abide in Him. The Son's abiding in us is the consequence of our abiding in Him.
Another writer spells out what abiding leans on, and what pulls against it.
To abide in Him supposes not merely distrust of ourselves, but clinging to Him and counting on Him. Every influence around us is against this; every natural feeling no less so... We need Him, and we cannot do without Him for the smallest things any more than the greatest. But there is more — He also draws us by His own excellence.
The last words of the verse leave no exceptions. Commentators show how little separation it takes to prove them true.
Take any branch in the whole vine, however impressive or wide-spreading it looks. Cut it off from the main stem by no more than the thickness of a sheet of gold leaf, and it cannot produce the smallest atom of fruit. We must keep a living sense of our union with Christ. That means abiding in Him by faith in a practical way — day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Only then can we bear fruit that God accepts.
There is also a warning against turning fruit itself into the goal.
Fruit is not produced by making fruit an object, or by thinking about fruit; it is the outcome of having Christ as an object, of thinking of Him. Christ comes before fruit.
- Vine. Israel was God's vine on earth and bore nothing. Christ now stands in that place, with the Father as the gardener.
- Branch. This picture is about responsibility and fruit on earth. That is not the same as the church's unfailing union with Christ in glory.
- Fruit. Not gift, service or results, but the character of Christ formed in us. That puts fruit within reach of every believer, young or old.
- Abiding. Clinging to Him and counting on Him; His abiding in us follows ours in Him, never the reverse.
- Nothing. Separation as thin as gold leaf ends all fruit — so the aim is never fruit itself, but Christ, from whom the fruit comes.
Unless any one abide in me he is cast out as the branch, and is dried up; and they gather them and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.
Jesus has just said that a branch bears no fruit on its own; now He turns to the branch that does not stay joined to Him. The picture ends in fire, which raises an old question: can a truly saved person end there?
The vine pictures a link with Christ on earth. That link may be real, or it may be only a claim.
The Lord's words here say little about Christianity in its heavenly relations. This is not about relationship with Christ in heaven, as members of His body by the Holy Spirit — a vital relationship that cannot be broken. It is about relationship with Christ on earth, through the profession of discipleship. That profession may be real, or it may be only a claim. So the Lord speaks of two kinds of branches: those that have life and prove it by bearing fruit, and those that have no life, which are thrown out and burned.
Scripture uses another picture for the believer's tie to Christ. It works differently, and the two must not be mixed.
It hardly needs saying that the relation of head and body serves quite another purpose in Scripture. It must be kept completely separate. Heavenly grace forms that one body by the one Spirit, united to the glorified Head. There we never hear of tearing, wounding, or cutting off. It is the church seen as the object of Christ's unfailing love, until He presents it to Himself in glory. Responsibility on earth under God's government is another thing. That, not the unfailing heavenly relationship of the church, is what the Vine and its branches teach.
The Lord had been saying "you" to the eleven disciples in front of Him. Here He switches to "anyone" — "a man" in older translations — and the switch matters.
He has been addressing the Eleven as true branches of the vine, and He will address them that way again. But in the word of warning He changes from "you" to "a man"... Should a real believer then fear that this might be his own end? The wording of verse 6 clearly shows that none of the Eleven were in view. Suppose the Lord had said, "If you do not abide in Me." Then there might be some excuse for the serious mistake that a real believer could be lost after all — a child of God today, a lost soul tomorrow. But the Lord's language was guarded.
Notice who handles the dead branch. It passes out of the Father's own hands.
In the picture the Lord uses, the vinedresser does not deal with the dead branch Himself. Others deal with it. So the Father does not deal with the fruitless and therefore lifeless professing Christian. Under the government of God, those who carry out His judgment deal with him. And here the branch is not "taken away" but "thrown away," "withers," "thrown into the fire," and "burned."
Why does the branch dry up? Its supply has stopped.
Withering follows, because the sap of the divine Spirit is withdrawn. That sap flows to believers through their vital union with their great Head. Note the contrast. A branch in Him is fruitful and productive. Thrown out as unfruitful, it then withered by itself.
One seat at the table was empty as Jesus spoke. Commentators point to the man who had left it.
There was an empty place at the table. Judas, the twelfth, had just left. He was already on his way to the high priest's palace, working out how many pieces of silver he would sell Jesus for — and Jesus knows it.
Two schools of thought pull this verse in opposite directions, and both bend it.
Since Christ is the only source of fruit, to abandon Him is fatal. So it was with Judas... The Calvinist is afraid he will compromise his doctrines of grace. The Arminian is eager to press his advantage on the side of falling away. So the first tends to dodge the solemn warning of personal ruin and final judgment given here. The second argues that the passage means a saved soul may be lost after all.
Such a person may look like a follower. Something else is missing.
It was someone who had come out from the world and had followed Christ. But there was no attraction of heart, no power of faith, and therefore no dependence on Christ; and this is the sentence the Lord pronounces on all such people, whether in that day or in any other.
- Abide — the frame. The vine pictures a visible link with Christ on earth, tested by fruit. The body of Christ, formed by the Spirit, is a different tie, and it cannot be broken.
- Abide, or wither. Cut off from the source, the branch dries up on its own — no supply, no fruit, nothing left.
- A changed word. The Lord switched from "you" to "anyone" so no true disciple could read his own doom into the sentence.
- Judas, the sample. The empty seat shows what an unreal branch looks like: outward following, but no attachment of heart and no dependence.
- A warning kept whole. Commentators here reject both dodges: the fire is real judgment on empty profession, and no true believer is in view.
If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will and it shall come to pass to you.
The Lord has been speaking of the vine and the branches. Now He gives a promise so wide it can unsettle a reader. Everything depends on the two conditions He sets first, and on what they do to the person who asks.
The verse has a sequence, and the sequence is the teaching. Prayer comes third, not first.
Here the larger subject is how vital it is that Christ's words abide in us: "If you abide in me, and my words abide in you." First comes the person, then the expression of His mind. Prayer follows: "ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you." Prayer does not come first, for it must not take the place of Christ, or of understanding His mind. Christ Himself is the prime object. Then come His words, forming the heart fully according to His thoughts and will. Last comes the going out of the heart to the Father, resting on both Christ and His revealed mind, with the assurance attached that it would come to pass for them.
The first condition is dependence. To abide in Christ is to keep leaning on Him, and the branch shows how complete that leaning is.
Here the Lord insists on more — the necessity and the importance of dependence on Him, of intimacy with Himself. This is to abide in Christ, and His word is, "Abide in me, and I in you." This is not sovereign grace to the sinner. It is His call to the disciple. So His abiding in us, as a matter of daily communion, depends on our abiding in Him. "As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me." Outwardly nothing is simpler than this fact. Inwardly nothing is surer in our experience than that it works the same way. He, and He only, is the dwelling-place for the soul in this world of snares and danger, in this desert where there is no water.
The second condition goes deeper. His words settle inside a person and reshape what that person wants.
What, then, is meant by having His word abiding in us? Here it means nothing less than that His words should have found their home in our hearts, and in such a way that they have formed our thoughts. Or rather, because they fill us with divine thoughts, they have produced the mind of Christ in us. So the very desires we express in prayer are only the expression of His own mind and will. That is why He can say, "ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you."
When Christ's words direct the will, the promise puts God's power behind a life of obedience.
There is one more element in John 15:7, "and my words abide in you." My mind and will are directed by Christ's words. The words of Christ abide in me. That being so, I ask whatever I wish and it will be done for me. Divine power is at my disposal if I am directed by Christ's will, if what He says is what I am doing and nothing else. We ask whatever we wish when these words have power in us. This is not asking wrongly, as in James. If He answers such a prayer, it is in discipline. Still, it is an immense thing, if I am doing God's will, to have God's power at my disposal, to be able to wield His power in the path of obedience.
Many ask and do not get what they prayed for. One writer finds the answer in what the asking here covers.
This is often a puzzle to many of us, for we often ask and do not get what we pray for. The difficulty vanishes when we see that the asking here is not for ourselves or our affairs, but for what concerns His interests and His testimony on the earth. The Father and the Son had put their affairs into the disciples' hands. In these chapters the disciples are seen as being in that business, so that their prayers and asking serve the interests of the business, if we may venture to speak that way.
Commentators differ on how far to narrow this. Others treat the promise as covering the full range of a believer's requests, insisting the double condition already guarantees the prayer is right.
This is sometimes spoken of as a lower kind of prayer, but the slightest examination of the terms our Lord uses will dispel the misunderstanding.
- Person first. Christ comes first, then His words, then prayer. Asking never takes the place of either.
- Abide means depend. Abiding is daily dependence on Christ and closeness to Him. It is His call to every disciple, as the branch stays in the vine.
- Words reshape wanting. When His words make their home in us, they form the mind of Christ in us. Then the desires we voice in prayer already express His will.
- Then power is at hand. If His will directs us, God's power is at our disposal on the path of obedience. Asking wrongly is the opposite, and He may answer that only as discipline.
- Aimed at His interests. The asking here concerns His interests and His testimony on the earth, not our own affairs. That explains much unanswered prayer.
In this is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit, and ye shall become disciples of mine.
Jesus is teaching His disciples with the picture of a vine and its branches. Verse 8 gives the result of that picture: fruit that brings the Father glory, and proves the branch a real disciple.
The word "fruit" does not mean what most of us assume. One writer asks what it is and answers from the life of Christ:
What then does the Lord mean when He speaks of fruit? May we not say that fruit is all that in our lives which is agreeable to God? It follows that only that which is of Christ in us can be for the Father's delight. We may therefore say that fruit is the character of Christ reproduced in the lives of His disciples. We read in Galatians 5:22 that "the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control." These are the very qualities that marked Christ in His path down here. They called forth the Father's expression of pleasure, for the voice from heaven said, "This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased." So fruit is not simply preaching and teaching. It is not activity in different forms of service. In this passage it is not even souls won for Christ through the preaching. It is the beautiful qualities of Christ seen in the souls that are won.
Another writer draws the line sharply:
Fruit-bearing is more what one is than what one does. It is being something for God, not doing something for Him. Bearing fruit for God has to do with character and Christ-likeness rather than service.
The Father looked at His Son on earth and delighted in Him. The same features in believers now bring Him the same pleasure:
When the Son was in this world, the Father looked down on Him. In His every movement He found what delighted His heart. Fruit is the visible display of the features of eternal life. To us, in picture, it is the life of the vine producing its own fruit in the branches. We who abide in Him have His life so that we may reproduce His features. When we do, the Father is now glorified in the saints as He was ever glorified in the Son.
The Father Himself works with us to produce it. And the command He gives is not to bear fruit but to abide:
Not only is the fruit itself for the Father's glory, but He is glorified by His working with us as the gardener to produce this fruit. Notice that we are not told to bear fruit, but to abide in Him. This abiding produces fruit on its own.
That puts a Person, not a target, before the heart:
So it becomes clear that fruit is not produced by making fruit an object, or by thinking of fruit. It is the outcome of having Christ as an object, of thinking of Him. Christ precedes fruit.
Fruit comes in degrees, and this verse names the highest. Every degree pleases the Father, yet He works for more:
The bud is the early evidence of life in a tree. The blossom brings out the sweet fragrance of that life, and the fruit is its mature expression. So also have we these things in the believer; but there is also fruit, more fruit, and much fruit. It is the much fruit that glorifies the Father and shows discipleship. The Father watches over the disciples of Christ, just as a gardener watches and cares for the branches of the vine. He disciplines them (Hebrews 12:5-11) to remove from us everything that would hinder the life of Jesus from showing. No doubt the Father is glorified in every bit of fruit we bear, for anything that shows Christ glorifies the Father. But nothing less than much fruit is what the Father and the Son desire from every believer.
The last clause is not a threat but an appeal. It points to something we become, and the Lord uses it to draw the heart:
He would touch our hearts with another thought: His Father will be glorified when we bear much fruit. And we shall become such as He can count true disciples of His own. A precious inducement! In it He appeals to our hearts, and expects them to respond to affection so well proved.
The same fruit also speaks to the people watching:
Finally, as we bear fruit, so we shall become witnesses to Christ Himself. Showing His character, it will become clear to all the world that we are His disciples.
- Vine first — fruit is the character of Christ showing in the branch. It is not preaching, service, or even converts.
- Abide, don't strive — Christ precedes fruit; aim at Him and the fruit follows on its own.
- Father glorified — those features delighted Him in His Son. They glorify Him again when He sees them in us.
- Much fruit — every trace of fruit pleases Him. Yet He disciplines us to clear away all that holds back more.
- Disciples proved — the fruit that rises to the Father as glory also goes out to the world. It shows that we belong to Christ.
As the Father has loved me, I also have loved you abide in my love.
Jesus turns here from fruit-bearing to the love that fruit grows in. He gives that love one measure — the Father's love for Him — and then tells His disciples to stay in it.
How much does Christ love His own? He does not answer with a size. He answers with a standard.
He gives us, as the only measure of the love with which He loves us, the Father's love for Himself, His well-beloved Son. We may well say, "it surpasses knowledge." And His love never changes. It is "the same yesterday" — when He first set His heart upon us, dead in our sins — "today, and forever." Our understanding of it may change, but His love never can.
When Jesus said this, He was living a life of obedience on earth. That matters for which love He means.
This is not just the eternal love of the Father to the Son. It is divine love to one walking in this world, whose word was, "I always do the things that are pleasing to him." This love took up the disciples as they walked down here. He could put them in the same relation to Himself that He was in to His Father.
That detail shapes what we can expect. This love walks with a person through hardship.
This was a love that entered into all the sorrows of His path, all the hostility He had to meet, and the sufferings He had to endure. In the same way, Christ loves us with a love that enters into all our trials. It feels for us in perfect sympathy in all our sorrows. In our case it also bears with us in all our failures, and restores our souls when we have wandered far from Him. Whatever we have to meet, we can count on a love that never changes and will continue to the end.
"Abide" is a command, and a command can sound like a price we must pay for the love. Commentators read it the other way round.
The love of Christ rests on the way of obedience, and shines along the path of His commandments. Keeping His commandments does not create the love, any more than walking in sunny places creates the sunshine. So the call is not to seek or earn or gain the love. It is to remain in it, by continuing in the state and life to which alone it belongs.
So what does staying in it look like day by day?
If there is in us a spirit of simple obedience to Him, we abide in His love. If we do a thing because He said it, we abide in His love.
Earlier in the chapter the call was to abide in Christ. Here the wording changes.
When He had said "abide in Me," life is more prominent — that is, to depend on Him for the life by which to bear fruit. But to abide in His love emphasises that love as the dwelling of the soul. It is the warm, precious comfort of communion with One who delights in the fellowship of His own.
The next verse ties abiding to keeping His commandments. The reason given is not that love is withdrawn from the disobedient, but that a guilty heart cannot rest in it.
If we walk in disobedience we have a condemning heart, and we grieve the Holy Spirit. Then our own failures fill our minds instead of the love of Christ. But if we walk in obedience, we keep our closeness to Him, and our confidence in Him remains unbroken.
There is a plain test of whether we are living in this love. A person can keep clear of evil and still go dry.
A man may be very dry in his soul, unlovely and unloving, and yet be a separate man... Think of a Christian who becomes fault-finding, critical of others, and harsh in his judgments. He sets up his own opinions — or perhaps his own conscience — as a standard for others. One thing is certain: he has not been breathing the atmosphere of love that keeps the soul fresh and makes us patient and kind.
- Measure — Christ measures His love for us by the Father's love for Him. It surpasses knowledge. Our grasp of it can change; His love cannot.
- Manner — This is the love that rested on Jesus as He walked here. So it enters our trials, bears with our failures, and restores us.
- Dwelling — "Abide in Me" speaks of drawing life. "Abide in My love" makes that love the home of the soul, the place of communion with Him.
- Sunshine — Obedience does not create the love, any more than walking in sunny places creates the sunshine. It keeps us where the love shines.
- Freshness — Out of that atmosphere a soul turns dry, harsh and critical. In it, the soul stays fresh, patient and kind.
If ye shall keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love, as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love.
Jesus has just told His disciples to remain in His love, and now He shows how, pointing to His own life as the pattern. Does obedience earn Christ's love, or does it do something else?
The command is not to get the love but to stay in it. Hamilton Smith quotes words he approves:
The love of Christ rests on the way of obedience, and shines along the path of His commandments. Keeping His commandments does not create the love, any more than walking in sunny places creates the sunshine. So we are not told to seek or earn or gain the love. We are told to remain in it by continuing in the state and life to which alone it belongs.
So which side can change? One writer notes what the verse does not say:
So far as we walk in a way that pleases Him, we abide in Christ's love, and the heart is always going out to Him. It does not say His love abides, for that never changes.
The word "commandments" here does not point back to the law. It covers the whole body of what Christ said and was:
"His commandments" are not the tables of the law, but the various communications by which the Lord has shown the perfection of His divine Person. The words, the precepts, and commandments that came from His mouth were the expression of the life He lived here on earth. They now become the light that directs that life in us. The law says, "Do this, and you will live." On that footing no one has obeyed. But Christ, who was the life, obeyed. Being in Christ through grace we inherit this position. We receive from Him a life freely given, which places us and leads us in the path of obedience. Christ who obeyed is our life.
So none of His words can be skipped: "I must take in every word, or I may have something wrong in my mind by leaving out" (J. N. Darby).
The second half of the verse points to Christ's own experience. The love He speaks of is not the love the Father had for the Son in eternity, but the love that surrounded Him as a man walking a path of obedience:
It is not here simply the eternal love of the Father to the Son. It is divine love to One walking in this world, whose word was, "I always do the things that are pleasing to him." This same love took up the disciples as they walked here on earth. He could put them in the same relation to Himself that He was in to His Father... He gives Himself as our example: "just as I have kept My Father's commandments and abide in His love." I need not say how He remained in it! ... If there is in us a spirit of simple obedience to Him, we abide in His love. If we do a thing because He said it, we abide in His love.
What happens when a believer walks the other way? The love does not stop, but the enjoyment of it does:
If we walk in disobedience we have a condemning heart, and this grieves the Holy Spirit. So we are taken up with our own failures and not with the love of Christ. But if we walk in obedience, we stay close to Him, and our confidence in Him remains unbroken. An obedient child lives close to his father in happiness, and enjoys the love that belongs to a son with his father. A disobedient child still knows his father loves him. But he does not enjoy that closeness, which is the privilege of every obedient child.
Carelessness and obedience lead to two different outcomes:
The result is this. Where there is carelessness in one who belongs to Christ, in a living branch of the vine, the Father as the gardener prunes him in judgment. Where habitual obedience is found, there is habitual enjoyment of Christ's love.
Christ knew that enjoyment first — "His full enjoyment of the Father's love which He found in keeping His commandments" (The Christian's Friend).
- Sunshine, not wages. Obedience never creates Christ's love; it walks you into the sunlit place where that love shines.
- Love fixed, enjoyment variable. The verse never says His love abides on condition — it says we abide. What changes is our side, never His.
- Commandments, not tablets. These are Christ's own words and life. They are not a law code that offers life in return for performance.
- His path, then ours. He kept the Father's commandments as a man in this world and stayed in that love. He walks the road first, then calls us onto it.
- Ending in joy. Steady obedience means steady enjoyment of His love — the same enjoyment of the Father's love that He knew Himself.
I have spoken these things to you that my joy may be in you, and your joy be full.
Jesus has just spoken of the vine, of fruit, and of remaining in His love. Now He gives His reason for saying it. The joy He names is His own — not something handed to His disciples from a distance.
The verse opens by looking backwards. What Jesus has just described is the very ground of His own gladness.
"These things" — what things were the source of Jesus' joy? First, to be the true Vine that never failed to bring forth fruit to the Father. Secondly, to walk in perfect obedience to His will and so to have a perfect plea for intercession for His people. Thirdly, to abide in His Father's love by keeping His commandments. He would share that joy with us; He would have us as full of joy as He was Himself.
"My joy" is not Christ's pleasure in His disciples. It is the joy He tasted Himself, as a man living in dependence on His Father.
The Lord here speaks of what He had proved as a man on earth — love and joy. He knew His Father's love as the obedient One who kept His commands. He knew joy for Himself as the dependent One in this world. For it is not Christ's joy in them that He speaks of, but the joy that He, as the obedient and dependent man, had known. Christ gives us His peace in chapter 14; His joy He would have us know in chapter 15. Here we get a little glimpse of the Lord's inner life while in humiliation.
Older English versions read "remain in you." Commentators say the better reading is "be." That one word changes how you hear the promise.
It is generally accepted that we should read "be" instead of "remain" in this verse, and even brief thought will show that the change gives the better sense. "Remain" implies the disciples already had the Lord's joy. "Be" means the Lord's aim in these words was that they might share in it, and this is what He says.
This joy does not come from things going well. It sits alongside sorrow.
In outward circumstances He was the Man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. But He always walked in the inward joy of the Father's love, and of the glorious prospect before Him... The Psalmist could say, "You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound" (Ps. 4:7). The world's joy depends on good circumstances. The believer's joy is that inward gladness of heart that finds its springs in the unchanging love of the Lord... In these verses the Lord speaks of "My love," "My commandments," and "My joy," and these marks follow in beautiful order. The Lord's unchanging love is over all. Walking in obedience to His commands, we shall abide in His love. Abiding in His love, we shall taste His joy.
The timing sharpens it. He said this with His deepest sorrow just ahead of Him.
This is indeed wonderful. So soon there was to be the fulfilment of the words of Jeremiah's Lamentations (Lam. 1:12), "Is there any sorrow like my sorrow?" — yet the Lord speaks to His disciples of His joy. His sorrows came from His devotion to His Father, and from His great love for His own. But He found His joy in the Father, and in finishing the work the Father had given Him to do.
Christ gives in a way no one else does. He does not hand something over and lose it. He brings His people inside what He enjoys Himself.
Christ gives "not as the world gives." The world may give generously sometimes, but it has finished with what it gives. Christ gives by bringing His own into what He is enjoying Himself. Take glory: "The glory that you have given me I have given to them." Take joy: "that my joy may be in you." Take peace: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you." Take love: "you loved them even as you loved me."
The second half of the verse names the aim: joy filled up to the top, and of one particular kind.
He had no joy from the world. He had perfect joy in the Father. His joy was in bringing forth fruit to the Father's glory. He is showing us how, in fruit-bearing, we can have joy and blessedness down here. "That your joy may be full." That is what He wants us to have — fulness of joy; and it is not from the world, but the kind of joy He had... This is how it is for the heart that walks with Him and abides in Him. If we have joy, it is His joy. If it is reproach, it is His reproach.
- Source. "These things" points back to verses 1–10 — the vine, the obedience, the abiding — the springs of Christ's own joy.
- Substance. The joy offered is "My joy": the gladness He knew as the obedient, dependent man, drawn from the Father's love, not from His circumstances.
- Transfer. He gives it as He gives peace, love and glory — by bringing His own inside what He enjoys.
- Order. His love comes first. Obedience keeps us in it. Abiding in that love is where we taste His joy.
- Fulness. The aim is not a trace of joy but joy filled up, of His kind — spoken by a man about to face sorrow like no other.
This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
No one has greater love than this, that one should lay down his life for his friends.
The Lord speaks these words on the night before the cross. He has just told His disciples to love one another as He has loved them. He names the furthest point love can reach, then goes there Himself.
Human love has a ceiling, and He names it. Yet one writer says the love of God went far past that ceiling. He also ties this love to obedience.
Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. The love of God in Jesus went far beyond this. It has to stand alone, and it is right that it should. We ought to lay down our lives for the brothers and sisters, as we are taught elsewhere. But what is that worth if our hearts do not go out day by day to the common needs and sufferings of God's children? The Lord at once binds love up with obedience, without which it is only self-pleasing.
His death has more than one side. Here the Lord holds it up as something we are meant to copy.
Such was His love that He could lay down His life for His friends. Here He does not present His death as the sacrifice that pays for sin, which could be no pattern for us. He presents it as the highest expression of love for one's friends. These verses hold a whole history of love: the Father's love to the Son, the love of Jesus to His people, and the love of His people to one another. Each stage is both the source and the standard for the next.
He says "friends," not sinners. One writer draws out what that friendship means.
This is a completely different thing from laying down His life for sinners. Here it is for His friends. It shows the intensity of His love: I sacrifice Myself for him. He does not say, I am your Friend, but we are His friends. He was the Friend of sinners when He gave His life for them. We are His friends when we enjoy His confidence... If I have a friend, I tell him what is on my mind, even things that have nothing to do with him. I share all my thoughts with the one who is my friend.
Some go further and use this verse as a step towards the greater wonder that He died for enemies. Another writer warns that a much-loved hymn, though true in itself, turns the Lord's words around:
No one can boast of greater love / Than dying for a friend; / You for Your enemies were slain, / What love can compare with Yours?... The thought expressed in the hymn is quite different from the Lord's thought in John 15. In the hymn we think of ourselves as His enemies, which is the exact opposite of "You are My friends."
One writer sets this verse beside another word of the Lord in the same Gospel. Together they show His love running in two directions at once.
In John's Gospel, two statements from His own lips show how He expressed His love to God and love to man... He expressed love to His Father and love to His friends in full, when He laid down His life for them both. On the one side for the Father's glory and on the other for the need of His own.
The verse sets a standard for us. So how do we keep it when no one is asking us to die?
"By this we know love, that He laid down His life for us." If you want to know what love is, look here. This was love indeed. "And we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers and sisters." The same life that we live by was in Him. Should it not show the same love? He may not often ask us to lay down our life for our brothers and sisters. But are there not plain, simple, common ways to test that love every day? My brother may be in need. It is no use talking about being ready to die for him if I at once shrink back from meeting his ordinary, and maybe urgent, need.
- Ceiling. Laying down your life is the furthest love can reach among people. The love of God in Jesus went far beyond it and stands alone.
- Pattern. Here His death is not the sacrifice for sin, which no one could copy. It is the highest expression of love for one's friends.
- Friends. He speaks of those He has taken into His confidence. He shares with them what is on His heart.
- Both directions. The one act expressed love to the Father for His glory and love to His own for their need.
- Daily. The standard is proved not in dramatic death but in whether we meet a brother's ordinary need today.
Ye are my friends if ye practise whatever I command you.
On the night before the cross, Jesus has just named the greatest love a person can show: laying down your life for your friends. Now He says who those friends are, and He adds an "if" — is friendship with Christ given, or proved?
Obedience is not a second step after love here. One writer also marks out what the verse is not about:
The Lord at once binds love up with obedience, without which it is only self-pleasing, with nothing of Him in it or before the soul. "You are my friends if you do what I command you." He is not speaking of reconciling enemies, but of why He calls us His friends. Obedience is the character and the condition. He treats us as friends according to His perfect love, for He lets us into His secrets instead of merely pressing our duty. In principle this is the cherished privilege of the Church — to know His mind, and to read the tangled web of human life by it. But in practice we must be constant in obedience, or the privilege is a bare title and not a living reality.
Everything hangs on that little word. One writer reads it through the ordinary experience of close friendship:
We all know how the sweetest and most tender relationships and feelings are the easiest to disturb and break. "You are my friends, IF you do what I command you." The life, with its relationships and intimacies, is ours, but we can well understand the meaning of the IF. None of us cares to tell everyone his secrets; we keep them for our intimate friends. But someone may show by his ways that he undervalues his friend's confidence. This may grieve that friend, and, in the very nature of things, the intimacy stops. Distance takes the place of nearness.
What does Christ trust a friend with? One writer answers from ordinary life:
He is treating them with perfect confidence. He treats the true disciple with the confidence of being His friend. Otherwise He would be betraying His Father's confidence in telling His secrets. If I go to a person on a matter of business, I simply tell him my business and have done with him. But if I go to a friend, I can tell him everything on my mind, even what does not concern him at all. I do this because I have full confidence in his love and his interest in what concerns me.
This trust is not a private comfort. It gives the friend a job to do in a hostile world:
One more thing goes with this in verse 14: "You are my friends if you do what I command you." How unspeakable the privilege! To be treated not as servants who receive their orders and nothing more, but as the trusted friends of Christ! He tells them His mind — all that He has heard from the Father. So they keep it in a world that has seen and hated both Him and the Father, and it shapes them as witnesses for Him.
One man long before showed what such friendship looks like. God let Abraham, the ancestor of Israel, know His plans in advance:
How beautiful it is to see an example of true friendship in Abraham. The Lord said, "Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do? For I have chosen him, that he may command his children and his household after him to keep the way of the LORD by doing righteousness and justice," and so on. Abraham was trustworthy. It is as we do what our Lord has commanded that we continue in His love, and, like Abraham, we become trustworthy.
One writer presses the verse as a personal test, and names what it costs:
But can He trust us? Are we really His friends? "If you do what I command you." This is the proof. Not doing what we think, but what He commands. And He has said, "If anyone serves me, he must follow me." There is no such thing as knowing the Master's mind apart from the intimacy of communion. This involves separation from this world and its ways, and nothing but His love can draw us to Himself. As He draws us in this way, our hearts will close against every other voice. In the quiet of His presence we shall learn His secrets and receive His commands.
- Trust given. Christ laid down His life for His friends. Now He asks the other half of the question: can He trust us?
- Trust conditioned. The "if" sets the terms of nearness. Obedience is the character and the condition of friendship.
- Trust confided. A servant gets orders; a friend gets the Master's mind, everything Christ heard from the Father.
- Trust modelled. God told Abraham His plan because Abraham was trustworthy. Obedience makes us trustworthy too.
- Trust spent. Friends do not keep His mind to themselves. They carry it as witnesses in a world that hated Him.
I call you no longer bondmen, for the bondman does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things which I have heard of my Father I have made known to you.
On the last night before the cross, the Lord gives His disciples a new name: not servants, but friends. The change turns on knowledge — a servant stays outside his master's plans, but a friend hears all the Son heard from the Father.
The title is new, and it sits inside a series of names the Lord gives His own. One writer traces the sequence.
The disciples of the Lord Jesus were greatly favoured in being called His friends. Earlier He had spoken of them as His sheep, and in resurrection He would call them His brothers. But now He says, "No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you." Great as the privilege of being servants of the Lord was, this place of friendship was higher, for it brought them into nearness and intimacy with the Son of God, where He made known to them the most wonderful secrets it is possible for men to know.
Being called friends does not cancel service. Writers note that the same men later gladly call themselves servants of Jesus Christ.
The Lord treats His own not only as servants, whom He gives directions. He treats them as friends, whom He tells His secrets. He can say, "All that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you." The disciples were indeed servants of Jesus Christ (2 Peter 1:1; Jude 1; Rom. 1:1). But they were more than servants, they were friends, and, if "the privilege of being servants is great, that of being friends is greater."
The same writer traces what a servant misses and what a friend receives.
The servant, as such, "does not know what his master is doing." He only knows the task given to him, and he gets only the direction he needs to carry it out. The servant whom his master treats as a friend knows more. His master tells him the secret purpose behind the work. And there is more. A friend is someone we tell our own affairs to, knowing they will interest him deeply, though they do not touch him directly.
That pattern had appeared once before, with Abraham, whom Scripture calls the friend of God.
When Abraham was on the mountain with the Lord, the Lord said, "Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?" He was the friend of God, and God took him into His confidence. And the Lord Jesus says the same thing of us... So the whole mind of God — all that He is for man — has been told out in Christ, and by the Spirit now given.
What makes this friendship unlike any other is who is speaking.
Their right to all this high privilege rests on this — the Son is their prophet. The Son Himself has spoken to them, and He is "the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of His nature." He says, "All that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you." Israel never stood in such privilege as this. God spoke to Israel in many measures and in many ways through His prophets. But their prophets were not the Son. They did not come from the bosom of the Father.
The wonder is not only what is told, but that He should tell it at all.
Obedience was the order, but He recognised them as friends. Then He makes known His mind. He tells them all that He had heard from His Father. What friendship! What friend is there to whom we could tell everything?... How the secret of the Father's love must be in Him, and on us too, that we should be the confidants of all that the Father makes known to Him!
The verse just before this one attaches a condition to the name.
The Lord at once ties love to obedience. Without obedience, love is only self-pleasing, with no thought of Him before the soul. "You are my friends if you do what I command you." He is not speaking of reconciling enemies, but of why He calls us His friends. Obedience is the character and condition.
The same writer warns that we can keep the title and lose the reality.
He treats us as friends according to His perfect love, for He lets us into His secrets, instead of merely pressing our duty... It ought to be the treasured privilege of the Church to know His mind this way, and in principle it is. By His mind we read the tangled web of human life, and even the world's changing fortunes. But in practice we must be in earnest and constant in obedience, or the privilege stays a bare title instead of a living reality.
What He tells His friends, He trusts them to keep.
How unspeakable the privilege! He treats us not as servants who receive their orders, and that is all, but as the trusted friends of Christ. He tells us His mind — all that He has heard from the Father. So we keep it in a world that has seen and hated both Him and the Father, and it shapes us as witnesses for Him.
- Servants — a servant gets his task and no more. He does not know what his master is doing.
- Friends — a friend learns the purpose behind the work. He even hears affairs that do not touch him directly. God dealt so with Abraham, and Christ deals so with His own.
- Secrets — this friendship carries everything the Son heard from the Father. No prophet before Him came from the Father's bosom, so Israel never stood in this privilege.
- Condition — obedience is the character and condition of the place. Without it the title stays a bare title.
- Witness — His friends keep what He tells them, and live it out in a world that hated both Him and the Father.
Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and have set you that ye should go and [that] ye should bear fruit, and [that] your fruit should abide, that whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name he may give you.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
These things I command you, that ye love one another.
In His last words before the cross, the Lord comes back again to one thing: His disciples loving each other. But why does love need a command, what love does He mean, and why say it just before warning them the world will hate them?
The phrase "these things" looks back over the whole conversation. All of it has one destination.
"These things" that the Lord has been speaking about began with the love of Christ for His own. Their end is to bind the disciples together in love for one another. So we can appreciate how fitting the Lord's words are.
He repeats this command more than once.
As a reminder of how closely love among the disciples is bound up with these things, the Lord repeats His command in verse 17 that they love one another. The Lord knew in advance how much His people would need this word through their history. So He gives this command no fewer than three times in these closing words before He suffered.
The command was first given earlier, and here it returns with a pattern attached.
The Lord had laid it down in John 13 as a new commandment that marked them out. Here He repeats love to one another, following the pattern of His love to them. How pure and unbounded that love was! Do we believe this is His will for us? Do we love as if we believed Him and valued His love?
The command has a specific object.
Love is the great command the Lord lays on His disciples — the love of each other. It is not the general moral duty of loving one's neighbour, but the mutual love of Christians, with His own love for them as the standard. The nature of the case rules out the love of God that went out to them in their guilt, hostility, and weakness. At that time they were objects of sovereign grace. They were now born of God and therefore they love; for love, since it is of God who is love, is the energy of the new nature. Whatever else the Lord may command, this is His commandment: He loved them, and would have them love one another in the same way. So Paul told the Thessalonians that he did not need to write to them about it. Young as they were in the things of God, they were taught by God to love one another (1 Thessalonians 4:9).
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So how far does this love have to reach?
Loving one another is of the greatest importance, along with the truth. This does not mean loving only those who think alike. Least of all does it mean loving only those who agree on some small and outward point. It means loving those who are Christ's, despite ten thousand things that try our nature. And it is safeguarded here by a measure: loving one another as He loved us. He delights in love that goes as far as death.
The very next sentence turns to the world's hatred.
Our Lord commands love as the bond between His disciples. That command gains force from the world's hatred. Love circulating inside, hatred pressing from outside: this is the situation He has in view as the result of His rejection and death. Let us take this to heart. All through the centuries the tendency has been to reverse this. As the hearts of believers stray into loving the world outside and courting its favour, coldness, division and even hatred find a place inside.
Inside that boundary, love runs in more than one direction.
Verses 17 and 18 show a remarkable contrast: love inside the circle, hatred from the world outside. Christianity, in the true sense, is a love circle. You have the Father loving the Son, and the Son loving the Father. You have the Son loving the disciples, and the disciples loving the Son. You have the Father loving the disciples because they loved Jesus. You have the disciples loving one another… Here is a love circle, and through grace, though we are few and weak, we are in it.
- Destination. Everything He has said in these last words was heading here: love binding His own together.
- Repetition. He commands it three times in these final words, because He knew how much His people would need it.
- Source. This love is not a general duty toward everyone. It is the energy of the new nature in those born of God.
- Reach. His own love sets the measure. So it reaches all who are Christ's, not only those who think alike, and it goes as far as laying down life.
- Setting. Love inside the circle, hatred outside it. When believers court the world's favour, coldness and division creep in.