Verily, verily, I say to you, that ye shall weep and lament, ye, but the world shall rejoice; and ye will be grieved, but your grief shall be turned to joy.
The Lord has just told the disciples about "a little while," and they cannot work out what He means. He does not explain the words. He tells them what they will feel, and what the world will feel at the same hour.
His answer comes in picture language, not in plain speech.
So the Lord, aware of their two difficulties, first deals with the one about the "little while," though He is still speaking in figures… Sorrow now, but joy afterwards.
The same event splits the room in two.
The little while during which they will not see Him will be a time of overwhelming grief for the disciples. They will weep and lament for one dead, whose grave was the end of all their hopes on earth. The world, though, would rejoice. It thought it had triumphed over One whose presence exposed the evil of its deeds.
Their loss ran deeper than grief for a friend.
They had hung their hearts and their fortunes on Him; they had been drawn by His grace; they owned Him as the Son of God. Whatever they looked for and expected, they expected with Him. They were bankrupt, broken-hearted, dispirited. Their Lord, who was their joy, their hope, their everything, was gone!
Their sorrow does not just stop. It turns into joy. The picture the Lord uses next — a woman in labour — carries more than the idea that bad times pass.
The pain of childbirth serves as an illustration. It sets out not only the idea of joy following sorrow, but also of new life springing up. Now their sorrow was just a reflection of His sorrow. His own was so deep, and of such a kind, that Isaiah 53:11 calls it "the anguish of his soul." The previous verse predicts, "he shall see his offspring," clearly in resurrection and in glory.
Notice whose sorrow He talks about here.
How wonderful that the Lord speaks here of the sorrow of His disciples, and not at all of His own. His own sorrow was in fact infinitely deeper than theirs. Knowing all that lay before Him, He occupied Himself in tender grace with them in their sorrow. This is pure, unaffected love.
John records the day it came true.
Here we have the prediction. In chapter 20:20 we read of its fulfilment.
The resurrection began that fulfilment, but did not exhaust it.
The point in the "little while" is that the Lord is not going to be lost. As soon as God accomplishes His purposes He will come again… It came true as far as it went when He rose again, and His disciples did rejoice greatly then. But it was not limited to that… The world was delighted to be rid of Him. Yet He comes up again, and His disciples see Him and rejoice. We have not entered fully into either case. Christ is gone in one sense, and yet we have seen Him, so that we are always rejoicing. The complete fulfilment will not come until Christ returns.
The split in this verse did not end that night.
The world, which last saw Jesus on the cross, still rejoices in His absence. It wants Him no more today than when He was on earth. But once the "little while" is over, the joy of His own will be complete — a joy that no one will be able to take from us.
Another writer takes the promise as a rule for every sorrow.
God sweetens outward pain with inward peace. "Your sorrow will turn into joy" (John 16:20). God's rod has honey at the end of it.
- Little while — The disciples could not put their confusion into words. The Lord answered by telling them how the coming hours would feel.
- Two camps — The same cross brings weeping to His own and rejoicing to the world. The world thought it had beaten the One who showed up its evil.
- Turned — The childbirth picture points to more than sorrow passing. New life arrives. Their grief was a faint reflection of the far deeper anguish of His soul.
- Love first — Facing the cross Himself, He spoke of their grief and not of His own.
- Not yet full — It came true when they saw Him risen. His own hold that joy now, in a world that still prefers His absence. It is complete only when He returns.
A woman, when she gives birth to a child, has grief because her hour has come; but when the child is born, she no longer remembers the trouble, on account of the joy that a man has been born into the world.
The disciples had just heard that in a little while they would not see Him, and they did not understand it. Jesus answers with the most ordinary picture He could have chosen: a woman in labour. It shows why the cross would feel like the end of everything — and why it would not be.
The Lord does not give them a timetable. First He tells them what they will feel, and what the world will feel.
The Lord answers the hidden desire in the hearts of His disciples. They tried in vain to solve the puzzle in His words, and they were afraid to ask Him anything. He answers in two steps. First He shows them the feelings that would fill their hearts. Then He shows them the true character of His coming and His departure. Grief would fill their hearts. They were about to lose the One for whom they had left everything, and the hope built on Him was fading away. The world, by contrast, would be quite happy to be rid of the One who troubled it by the testimony of the truth.
The woman's pain arrives at a set hour, and it ends at one. The Gospel also records the moment this promise came true.
A woman in labour has anguish because her hour has come. Then a son is born, and she forgets the anguish. So it would be with them. Sorrow now, but joy afterwards, and their joy would come from seeing Him again... Their sorrow would be like a passing cloud, never to return. A joy would then be theirs that no one could take away. Here we have the prediction. In John 20:20 we read of its fulfilment.
The picture holds two ideas, not one: sorrow turns into joy, and new life begins. The disciples' grief was also a faint echo of a deeper travail.
The travail of childbirth serves as an illustration. It pictures joy following sorrow, and it also pictures new life springing up. Now their sorrow was simply a reflection of His sorrow. His sorrow was so deep, and of such a kind, that Isaiah 53:11 calls it "the travail of His soul" [the ESV reads "the anguish of His soul"]. The verse before that predicts, "He shall see His offspring" — clearly in resurrection and in glory. They could not share His atoning sufferings, yet they were dimly sharing His sorrow.
Hours from the cross, the subject on His lips is their grief.
How wonderful that the Lord speaks here of the sorrow of His disciples, and not at all of His own sorrow, which was in fact infinitely deeper than theirs. Faced with all that He knew lay before Him, He occupied Himself in tender grace with them in their sorrow. This is pure, unaffected love.
If the travail is the cross, the birth is the resurrection. What came out of the grave was not just Jesus restored. A whole new order had begun.
Deeper things are in view here, for the resurrection of our Lord is the birth of the new creation... So we may clearly see that our Lord's tomb was the womb of the new creation, and His resurrection its birth. This introduces a new order where all is joy, and into which sin can never come.
The Lord barely names His death here, yet the promised joy rests on it. Commentators read that joy in stages: real at the resurrection, held now, complete when He returns.
Nothing is more striking than the way the Lord avoids bringing in His death as such here. No doubt it underlies everything, and the joy would have been poor indeed without His infinite sorrow on the cross... This was certainly true when He rose after His brief absence, and it will be fully proved when He comes for them, never to part again. He illustrates it by the most familiar of all pictures of sorrow turning into joy. Even now His resurrection is a joy that no one takes away. What will it be when He comes to receive us to Himself?
That "little while" also reaches into our own day.
The point in the "little while" is that the Lord is not going to be lost. As soon as God's purposes are accomplished He will come again... We have not entered fully into either case. Christ is gone in one sense, and yet we have seen Him, so that we are always rejoicing. The entire fulfilment will not come until Christ returns.
- The hour. The woman's pain comes because her hour has come — sorrow with a set beginning and a set end, not a permanent state.
- The travail. Their grief was a faint reflection of His own — the anguish of soul Isaiah 53:11 foretold, which He alone bore.
- The birth. The tomb was the womb of the new creation. His resurrection is the child born, and it opens an order into which sin can never come.
- The forgetting. The joy does not just balance the anguish; it makes her forget it — a passing cloud, never to return.
- The keeping. Their joy began when they saw Him risen. It is theirs now, and its full measure waits until He comes again.
And ye now therefore have grief; but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no one takes from you.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And in that day ye shall demand nothing of me verily, verily, I say to you, Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give you.
The Lord is close to His death, and He tells the disciples that their whole way of coming to God is about to change. Two questions sit inside it: what is "that day," and what does it mean to ask the Father in Jesus' name?
"That day" is not the far future. It is the day opened by His resurrection and His going above, and it has already come.
This, it seems to me, is what the Lord tells the disciples will follow His resurrection and departure — "in that day." It is a day that has already come: the day of grace, not of glory. We share in glory only so far as we enter in through Him, Who has gone above and sent the Spirit from there to be in us.
The verse uses two different Greek verbs, and the older English translation flattened them into one.
The passage that has suffered most from the loss of this distinction in the King James translation is John 16:23. It looks as if prayer to the Father in the name of Christ replaces prayer to Christ directly. But the 'ask' (erotao) in the first part of the verse points back to John 16:19: "Jesus knew that they wanted to ask (erotao) him." Here the word carries its ordinary classical sense of 'question.' It does not mean 'prayer' at all. The Lord is leading their hearts on from His death to the dawn of a new and endless day in His resurrection. Then they would have no more questions, and every difficulty would be solved... Now they would be able to 'ask' (aiteo) the Father in His name. They would come before the Father in the value of His name as they never had before, left here to represent Him where He had been rejected.
Commentators differ. Some limit the first "ask" to questioning. Kelly sees a wider change: where they take everything, not just their questions.
The Lord is signifying a great change. Until now they turned to Him as their Messiah on earth for every difficulty — not for questions only, but for all they might want day by day. Now He would bring them into access to the Father, as the accepted Man and glorified Saviour on high. Until we know redemption, and grace sets the soul in righteousness, even believers are afraid of God and hide, as it were, behind Christ.
Some read the first half of the verse as shutting the door on praying to Christ Himself. The words themselves answer that.
So when the Lord said, "In that day you will ask nothing of me," He was not forbidding prayer to Himself. He was telling them that in a day soon to come they would no longer be questioning Him. He would not be here for them to question. He would be at the Father's right hand, and the Holy Spirit would be here to guide them into all truth.
The phrase carries weight far beyond words tacked on at the end of a prayer.
Asking in the name of Christ is more than having a right through His name. It is to appear before God with all the value and authority of that name. Suppose I go to a bank and present a cheque. I ask for the value of the cheque in the name of the person who wrote it. So when I appear before God in the name of Christ, I bring my requests in all the value of that name.
The promise sounds unlimited. One phrase in it sets a limit.
There is what His name excludes, as well as what it includes. "Whatever" is the promise, but "in my name" defines and limits it. As another has said: "Whatever! On its own it would be boundless, and the Lord would then have opened the door to all the desires of unbroken will among His people. But He adds, in my name. This is His limit — the barrier He sets up."
What puts them on this new ground? Kelly points to redemption and the Spirit.
Now, He says to them, you are going onto new ground. No longer just coming to Me and asking Me, but asking the Father, and asking in Christ's name... The meaning is nothing less than this: redemption once accomplished, and the Holy Spirit uniting them to the Lord Jesus in heaven, would set them in the same position as Himself.
- The day — "That day" is the day of grace already begun: Christ glorified above, the Spirit given below.
- The gift — He replaces a Master they could question on earth with direct access to the Father.
- The name — To ask in His name is to come with the whole value and authority of that name. It is not a phrase tacked on at the end.
- The limit — "Whatever" would be boundless on its own; "in my name" is the barrier the Lord Himself sets up.
- The result — Nothing here forbids praying to Jesus. What it forbids is staying on the old ground, now that the new one puts us before the Father in the Son's own place.
Hitherto ye have asked nothing in my name ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.
The Lord is hours from the cross, and He tells His disciples about a way of praying they have never used. How could praying men be told they had asked nothing in His name, and what joy is it that only this asking can fill?
The disciples were praying men. The Lord Himself had given them a pattern prayer, and they had used it for years. So His words here come as a shock.
The Lord's Prayer always remains priceless. Yet He gave it to meet the personal needs of the disciples, and the fuller revelation of divine truth changed their condition... It seems to me a happy thought that it is our Lord Himself who tells us this. "Until now you have asked nothing in my name." What do I gather from this? That a person may use the Lord's Prayer every day, and never have asked anything in the name of Christ.
This new way of praying waited on the cross.
Here for the first time we read of prayer to be offered in His name... The prayer of Matthew 6 was prayer to the Father. It was the pouring out of the heart to God from someone who knew he was God's child. But prayer in His name was unknown until Christ's blood had made atonement. As soon as that was done, and those who believed on Him knew it, they were to offer prayer in His name. From then on His name would have a meaning for them as well as for God. It expresses all that He is in the eyes of God the Father.
The phrase means more than naming Christ as our reason for asking. We come with all that Christ is worth.
Asking in His name is not just for Christ's sake as a motive. It is asking in the value of Himself and of His acceptance. All His worth goes to the account of those who plead this way. And how precious and all-prevailing it is in the Father's eyes! How glorifying to both the Father and the Son! How humbling and no less strengthening to the saints themselves! It is the title of every Christian now; none ever enjoyed it before.
Such asking makes sense only because He is gone. It is the language of people who stand in for someone absent.
Someone has said it well: "Requests made in the name of another are understood to mean taking to yourself his claims, his merits, his rights to be heard." By His own words, the Lord gives this privilege to those who are in relationship with Himself by faith. Asking in the name of Christ was something new to the disciples. Like everything else in these talks, it comes out of the Lord's departure. Asking in His name assumes that Christ is absent.
"Until now" points to a turning point. One writer says that day is not still ahead of us.
"In that day you will ask in My name." This refers to the saints' day, when the Lord is with the Father and the Comforter is here. It assumes that redemption has put the saints here below in the place the Son of Man held when He was on earth. So the full value and power of His Name avails with the Father.
Some would narrow this promise. One writer tests that narrowing against the joy the Lord attaches to it.
Some say His name covers only part of the believer's prayers. They say it does not reach his personal needs or circumstances, and that believers may go to God about them, but not in Christ's name. The Lord's words fit badly with a claim like that. How would all this fit with the direction, "Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full"? Such a chilling claim would quench anything like fullness of joy. That narrow interpretation would bring regret instead of joy.
The joy is not measured by the size of the answer.
What makes their joy full is not the thing they receive. It is the proof they get through it that they have their Father's heart and ear. The Father, not the gift, does this for them, filling up their joy.
So the confidence to ask comes from the Name itself.
While He was with them, of course they had not asked in His name: now they are encouraged to find such delight in that name that they ask with firm, holy confidence for what will honour that name. In this their joy would be full.
- The cause. No one could pray in His name until Christ's blood made atonement. The cross opened it, not a formula.
- The gift. The Name carries all that Christ is worth before the Father, and every believer now holds that title.
- The place. Asking in His name assumes He is absent. We stand here in the place He held, with His claims as our own.
- The reach. The promise is wide. A reading that shuts our needs out of His name would kill the very joy He offers.
- The result. Full joy comes less from the gift than from the proof it brings — that we have the Father's ear.