And he went out, bearing his cross, to the place called [place] of a skull, which is called in Hebrew, Golgotha;
The trial is over, and the Lord walks out of the city carrying His own cross to a place named after a skull. John alone tells it that way, and both the name of the place and the direction of the walk carry meaning.
Other accounts describe Him being taken away by His enemies. John's wording puts the movement in the Lord Himself, and one writer reads this as deliberate on John's part.
When he describes the going out to Golgotha, he is the only witness who says, "He went out, bearing His own cross, to the place called The Place of a Skull." The other records tell us His foes led Him out, and John tells us this too, for that was the height of their guilt. But He went out — that was the triumph of His love. He went out; do we not see the majesty of that lonely Man, with thorns on His head and a cross on His shoulders? He was not driven out or dragged out, but in obedience to His Father's command He went out to lay down His life and to take it again.
The same detail is read as a sign of who was actually directing events.
Notice it says, "He went out." He was in control from beginning to end; He was leading, even though He had to carry that awful cross on the road to the place of execution.
In Luke, Simon of Cyrene carries the cross behind Jesus. Commentators read this not as a clash with John, but as two stages of one journey.
Several features stand out in John's Gospel, fitting his theme. In general, we may say they suggest the divine dignity of our Lord... So we see Him bearing His own cross. This in no way contradicts the fact that they compelled Simon the Cyrenian to bear it after Him. From Mark we would judge that our Lord was bearing His own cross at the start of the journey to Golgotha. On the way they met Simon coming in from the country, took the cross from our Lord, and put it on him.
Some say the Lord collapsed under the weight. One writer rejects that, and gives Simon's part a different sense.
The Lord alone is spoken of here as bearing His cross. As they went, we read elsewhere that they made Simon carry it after Him (Luke 23:26). This had to be shown: in one sense believers are identified with Him in the bearing of His cross — not bearing God's judgment, but bearing the world's rejection. John however focuses all attention on the blessed Son of God Himself. Note too that nothing in the account suggests the weight of the cross was too much for the Lord, as some have said. That is only human imagination.
The name came from the shape of the rock. The picture it makes still matters.
The place got its name from the odd shape of the rock, but it is significant for all that! A skull speaks of the humbling end of all man's power and glory. In some living man it may once have held as brilliant and powerful a brain as ever existed; and it has come to this! The Son of God accepted the judgment of death as from man's hand. He went to bear it in a place that pictured the end of all man's glory.
He did not simply end up there.
First, He comes, bearing His cross, to Golgotha, the place of a skull — the place of the kingdom of death... For this the Lord sought it. Here His love to men brought Him. Only He could lift this burden from them, and for this He must come Himself under it.
The men who arranged this death were not the ones giving it its meaning.
The injustice of Pilate and the frenzied hatred of the Jews could not have brought the Lord of glory to Golgotha. "He went forth bearing His cross." He offered Himself without spot to God... That "hence" had been reached at last, and without hesitation or haste He went out bearing His cross.
The Lord died in an outside place. One writer turns that into a question for us.
He took the outside place, and His voice falls on our ear from there. Do we listen to it? Do we understand it? Should we not think more seriously about the place where Jesus died? Should we be content to reap the benefits of Christ's death, without seeking fellowship with Him in His rejection? God forbid! "Let us therefore go out to Him outside the camp, bearing His reproach." There is immense power in these words.
- Out. John alone says He went out — not driven, not dragged, but moving under His Father's command to lay down His life.
- Out carrying. He bore His own cross. Simon carried it later on the road — no contradiction, but a picture of believers sharing His rejection, not His judgment.
- Out to a skull. Golgotha pictures the end of all human power and glory — the place where death reigns.
- Out in love. He sought that place; only He could lift the burden of death from men, so He came under it Himself.
- Out to Him. He took the outside place, so the call is to go out to Him there. We share His reproach, not just the benefits of His death.
where they crucified him, and with him two others, [one] on this side, and [one] on that, and Jesus in the middle.
John reports the crucifixion in one short line: a cross in the middle, a condemned man on either side. Commentators press three questions on it — why the centre place, why two criminals, and what that middle position means now and forever.
John gives the other two men no name and no story. Mawson sees that silence as deliberate, and reads the middle place as a preview of a greater one.
Other Gospels tell us about the "two others"; but it was not given to John to do so — he had eyes only for Jesus. The criminals were there, but they were incidental. Jesus was in the middle. He was the centre of that scene, the centre of man's scorn and hatred. In a day still future He will be the centre of God's throne, the object of God's infinite and eternal approval, and of the worship of a multitude that no one can count.
The line-up was planned. Mawson describes the search behind it.
That morning they searched the prison cells of Jerusalem for the most degraded criminals the city held. They led them out to die along with Jesus. These men had been guilty of appalling crimes. That is why they chose them to hang one on His right hand and the other on His left. That is why they put Him on the centre and highest cross. They meant to proclaim by their well-considered and malicious plan that He was the worst of the three. So they heaped shame on Him, adding the deepest insult to the deepest injury.
Kelly sees the robbers on either side as part of the insult, and the sign over the cross as God's answer to it.
They crucified Him there with unusual indignity, a robber on either hand, since a robber had been preferred to Him. Yet God took care that even there the inscription on the cross gave Him a fitting testimony, whatever Pilate's motive: the despised man of Nazareth was the Messiah.
Men meant it as degradation. Prophecy had announced it centuries earlier:
Another fulfilment of Scripture: "he was numbered with the transgressors" (Isaiah 53:12).
Friends dying beside Him could have blurred what His death accomplished. Mawson finds a mercy hidden in that cruel choice.
But I am glad that they took men like these, and not James and John, as His companions that day. In this the devil showed his lack of foresight, and here he was outwitted. Suppose they had crucified James and John, one on His right hand and the other on His left. Then people would have said that these two were helping Him to finish His work of redemption... These murderers who hung with Him could have no hand in the work He was doing. They were suffering for their own crimes; He, the sinless One, for yours and mine.
Mackintosh reads the two men beside Him as a picture of the whole human race, sorted by one test.
The two thieves represent the two great classes that divide mankind. This division runs from the days of Cain and Abel down to this very moment. God's Christ is the one great, all-deciding test in every case. Every shade of moral character, every level of society, every caste, class, sect and party the human family has ever split into, or ever will — all of it comes down to one crucial point: "In or out of Christ." The difference between the two thieves is simply the difference between the saved and the lost. It is the difference between the Church and the world — between the children of God and the children of God's great enemy.
The world's lowest place could not remove Him from the position that belongs to Him.
Christ was willing to humble Himself to that lowest point, obedient to God, even to death. What death? The death of the cross: the most shameful, painful, horrible way of execution that ever existed. Yet the Lord Jesus must always be the Centre, whether in heaven or on the earth; and so even on the cross He is in the centre. How great He is! Though in utter shame, He is great; that is how John always describes Him, in His greatness. Notice that it says, "He went out." He was in control from beginning to end.
- Centre by malice. They chose the highest, middle cross to say He was the worst of the three — a planned insult, not a coincidence.
- Centre by prophecy. Isaiah said He would be numbered with the transgressors. A robber on each side fulfilled it.
- Centre alone. The two beside Him suffered for their own crimes; nobody shared in the work He was doing.
- Centre as the dividing line. The two men beside Him stand for the two classes of humanity. One question separates them: in Christ or out of Christ.
- Centre forever. The One in the middle of man's scorn will be in the middle of God's throne, worshipped by a multitude no one can count.
And Pilate wrote a title also and put it on the cross. But there was written Jesus the Nazaraean, the King of the Jews.
Jesus hung between two others, and Pilate fixed a written notice to His cross. The wording he chose — a name, a despised hometown, and a royal title — turned an execution into a public claim of kingship.
Pilate had his own reasons for what he wrote. Commentators see a second hand behind his. At the Lord's lowest point, His dignity still stood in writing.
Jesus, humbled and bearing His cross, takes His place with the transgressors. Yet He who wanted everything to be fulfilled ordained a testimony to His dignity. So Pilate fixes the Lord's title to the cross: "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." Perhaps he did it to annoy the Jews. He certainly did it to carry out the purposes of God. The title carries a twofold truth: the despised Nazarene is the true Messiah.
At the cross no human voice spoke up for Him. The witness came from an unlikely source.
Here there was no human testimony. So a piece of board cried out instead. Pilate wrote it, or had it written, and it declared that the despised Jesus of Nazareth was truly King of the Jews. It is remarkable how our Lord Himself took up that title of shame. Risen and glorified, He wove it into a wreath for His brow. It is an astounding fact that JESUS OF NAZARETH IS IN HEAVEN — see Acts 22:8.
Nazareth was a name people looked down on. One writer finds glory hidden inside that lowliness.
Like Matthew, John gives our Lord's personal name. No royal dignity equals the dignity of what He was in Himself. Even His divine glory as Son of God is pleased to live in this dwelling, the lowly Jesus. Nazareth stresses that lowliness still further. At the beginning Nathanael had asked, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Here, at the cross, that despised name has a place of honour beside the title of His royal dignity.
Each Gospel quotes the notice a little differently. Writers explain this in more than one way.
Only John reports the words "of Nazareth." John tells us of the One who is the eternal Son of God, put in the place of lowest humiliation, the object of the Jews' hateful spite. The full title was likely "This is Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews." But each of the Gospel writers reports only the part that suited the character of his book. Or the wording could have been a little different in each of the three languages of the title. All mankind is represented in those three: the religious world (Hebrew), the intellectual world (Greek) and the political world (Latin). All were guilty of crucifying the Lord of glory.
Enemies tried to have the words removed. Commentators see God's hand in the fact that they stayed.
The Lord Jesus hung as the Lamb of God on the accursed tree. Over His bleeding brow the inscription stood in every language: "This is the King of the Jews." They tried to blot it out, but God would not have it blotted out. He would have the whole creation know that the cross was the title to the kingdom.
So the notice is not just an insult that backfired. It announces a King whose reign death did not interrupt.
He comes into death as King — "King of the Jews," indeed, but that in its full sense implies so much. It faces the Jew, the Greek and the Roman. It states a meaning for each one, in his own language, with a firmness His enemies try in vain to set aside. Here is God's King, affirmed in a special way — King in death as in life. His cross is from now on the very sign of His power, the royal staff under which they bow in adoring homage.
- Written — Pilate wrote the title himself. He may have meant to annoy the Jews. He was carrying out God's purpose.
- Witnessed — no human voice defended Jesus, so a board above His head said who He was.
- Worn — "of Nazareth" was a name of contempt, and the risen Lord took that very name up as His own in heaven.
- Worded — each Gospel quotes the notice differently. Writers point to the three languages, or to each writer's aim.
- Withstood — enemies wanted the words gone. God kept them there, so all creation would know the cross was His claim to the crown.
This title therefore many of the Jews read, for the place of the city where Jesus was crucified was near; and it was written in Hebrew, Greek, Latin.
John records two plain facts here. Crowds read the notice above Jesus, and three languages carried it. A Roman execution notice becomes a public announcement of who this dying man is.
John gives a simple reason for the crowd. The execution ground sat close to Jerusalem, probably near a busy road.
The title then remained unaltered, publicly declaring that the Jews had crucified their King. Many read it, for Golgotha was near the city, and probably near some thoroughfare.
Each language carried a world with it. Together they bring religion, culture and empire to the foot of the cross. (The ESV calls the first language Aramaic; the writers quoted here call it Hebrew.)
The title was written in the three main languages of that day. Hebrew, the tongue in which the Law of Moses had appeared, the language of religion. Greek, the language of Gentile culture. Latin, the language of Gentile imperialism. In this representative way the whole world was involved in His death.
The reach works both ways. The world shares the guilt, and the world hears that this crucified man is King.
These languages represented the religious, the philosophical and the political worlds. They cover everything in which man trusts and boasts. The title was written this way so that all the world might know that Jesus the Nazarene, crucified by men, is King. The chief priests rebelled against the writing. They wanted Pilate to change it, so that He might die under the title of a pretender who had made a false claim. But the writing could not be altered; penned by Pilate, yet dictated by the Holy Spirit.
The title names the town as well as the crown. That word landed differently on a Greek than on a Jew.
To stir up the scorn of a Greek, it might be enough to say that the King of the Jews hung there. That is just what Luke has recorded. What did it matter to a Greek whether the Crucified One belonged to Judaea or Galilee? But for a Jew, how it would sharpen his contempt as he read, "Jesus the Nazarene, the King of the Jews." The Nazarene! The reader may remember Nathanael's question, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?"
What Pilate meant as mockery states a double truth at once.
Pilate fixes the Lord's title to the cross: "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." He may have done it to annoy the Jews. He certainly did it to carry out the purposes of God. The title holds a twofold truth: the despised Nazarene is the true Messiah.
The Gospels do not word the title alike. One writer offers two explanations:
The full title was likely "This is Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews." Each of the Gospel writers reports only the part that best suited the character of his book. Or the wording could have differed a little in each of the three languages.
Pilate wrote for his own reasons. God used the notice to state the truth about Jesus in public.
Yet God took care that even there the inscription on the cross gave a fitting testimony to Him, whatever Pilate's motive was. The despised man of Nazareth was the Messiah. Where were the Jews if He was their King? … There stood His title, read by many, for the place was near the city. It was written in the languages not only of the officials, nor only of the polite world, but of the Jews too.
What men meant as an execution charge stands as a royal claim.
We see His title to the kingdom confirmed with full authority. The enemy would have had it blotted out, but he cannot prevail… The cross shall be the Lord's standard. The LORD will display on it the inscriptions of His royal dignity, however angry the earth may be.
- Written — Pilate held the pen, but the Holy Spirit dictated. No protest could revise what stood over the cross.
- Read — Golgotha lay near the city, on a road people travelled, so crowds read the notice.
- Reaching — Hebrew, Greek and Latin brought religion, culture and empire together; the whole world shared in His death.
- Rejected — "of Nazareth" sharpened Jewish contempt, yet it states a twofold truth: the despised Nazarene is the true Messiah.
- Reigning — the accusation became His standard; the cross carries His royal dignity, however angry the earth.
The chief priests of the Jews therefore said to Pilate, Do not write, The king of the Jews, but that *he* said, I am king of the Jews.
Pilate has fixed a notice above Jesus on the cross, and it names Him King of the Jews. The chief priests want the wording changed — from a statement of fact into a report of a claim.
This request is the final act in a long campaign. One writer traces the chief priests through the whole Gospel and shows that this approach to Pilate is where their story ends.
They appear first in chapter 7:32, where they take the lead in trying to arrest Christ... This time they achieved their purpose. The next morning they handed Him over to Pilate, so that Pilate would condemn Him to death by crucifixion. When the governor hesitated to do what they wanted, they shouted for the Lord's death, and at last said they had no king but Caesar. They make one more notable appearance. Their purpose is carried out and the Lord is now on the cross. They come to the governor and ask him to change the inscription he had put over His head.
The two wordings are not the same. One states who He is; the other only reports what He said about Himself.
The chief priests rebelled against the writing and wanted Pilate to change it, so that He might die under the title of an impostor, a man who had made a false claim. But the writing could not be altered. Pilate wrote it, but the Holy Spirit dictated it. It stands, the unanswerable witness against the Jew.
Moments earlier the leaders had said they had no king but Caesar. The title over the cross gave the lie to that, and they knew it.
All four Gospel writers record the same central fact, "The King of the Jews." This is what the leaders want set aside. It proclaimed the plain facts, and their shame, far too clearly for the whole world... They were quite willing to have the Lord Jesus crucified, and in the heat of the moment to give up allegiance to any king but Caesar. This title grates on them, though, and they want it changed. It seemed to declare that their real king was there on the cross — which was indeed the solemn truth. Pilate gave way and wavered when the life of the holy One was at stake, and knowingly sacrificed Him to their bitter hatred; but he will not give way here. God would not allow it, and this poor puppet of authority suddenly speaks with all the finality of a true ruler: "What I have written I have written."
Their objection did not weaken the inscription. It fixed it. Whatever moved Pilate to write those words, another hand was at work.
Yet God took care that even there the inscription on the cross gave Him a fitting testimony, whatever Pilate's own motive was. The despised man of Nazareth was the Messiah. Where were the Jews if He was their King?... His title stood there, and many read it, for the place was near the city. It was written not only in the language of the officials, and not only in the language of the educated world, but in the language of the Jews too. And all the efforts of their high priests only riveted it to the cross.
What the priests could not erase stands as His claim to a kingdom.
We see His title to the kingdom confirmed with full authority. The enemy would have had it blotted out, but he cannot prevail... The cross will be the Lord's banner, and Jehovah will display on it the inscriptions of His royal dignity, however angry the earth may be.
The priests treated the title as a lie told by a condemned man. It was true — and the truth about Him goes further than the board could hold.
Pilate knew he had written the truth that day; but He was more than the King of the Jews — He was Jehovah the Saviour! Note, friend, He was not only a holy, spotless Man. That Man was the incarnate God — God manifest in the flesh, seen of angels, and preached to the world; but, sadly, the world cast Him out.
- The request. The priests do not ask Pilate to take the title down. They ask him to add that Jesus only said it — enough to let Him die branded an impostor.
- The reason. The wording said the man on the cross was their own King. That is what they had just given up when they chose Caesar.
- The refusal. Pilate gave way when an innocent life was at stake. He would not give way here, because God would not allow it.
- The result. Their protest changed nothing. It only riveted the title more firmly to the cross.
- The reach. The notice was written in the language of the officials, of the educated world and of the Jews. It told them all that the crucified man of Nazareth is King — and more, God manifest in the flesh.
Pilate answered, What I have written, I have written.
Above the cross of Jesus hung a board with His name and His crime on it. Pilate had written "The King of the Jews," and when the religious leaders demanded a rewrite, the governor who had just given in over a man's life refused to change a word.
Why the sudden firmness? One writer looks past Pilate for the answer.
Pilate gave way and wavered when the life of the holy One was at stake. He knowingly sacrificed Him to their bitter hatred. But here he will not give way. God would not allow it. Suddenly the poor puppet of authority speaks with all the finality of a true ruler: "What I have written I have written."
Commentators differ on Pilate's motive. Some read the title as payback against the men who had cornered him.
They had forced his hand in condemning Jesus, and he hit back with a public statement that the hated Jesus of Nazareth was the King of the Jews. This was the last thing they wanted to admit, which is why they protested. But here Pilate would not budge. He refused to alter the smallest stroke, and his curt answer, "What I have written I have written," has become almost proverbial.
Others point to the Roman practice behind the board and to Pilate's own conscience about the words on it.
When the Romans condemned a man to death, they always placed the crime for which he was to die over his head. Now what was His crime? That He was what He said He was. And what was He? He was Jesus of Nazareth, Jehovah the Saviour, and King of the Jews... "Pilate answered, What I have written I have written." He had the sense that what he had written was true.
Whatever Pilate intended, the last word about that board was not his.
The Lord Jesus was hanging as the Lamb of God on the accursed tree. Over His bleeding brows stood the inscription in every language, "This is the King of the Jews." They tried to blot it out, but God would not have it blotted out. He would have the whole creation know that the cross was the title to the kingdom. The inscription that Pilate wrote on the cross, and God kept there, is a wonderful thing.
The title went up in more than one language, and that choice carried weight.
These languages represented the religious, the philosophical and political worlds — everything in which man trusts and boasts. Pilate wrote the title so that all the world might know that Jesus the Nazarene, crucified by men, is King. The chief priests rebelled against the writing. They wanted Pilate to change it, so that He might die under the title of an impostor who had made a false claim. But no one could alter that writing: Pilate penned it, and the Holy Spirit dictated it.
The title said something about the nation as well as about Jesus.
Yet even there God saw to it that the inscription on the cross gave Him fitting testimony, whatever Pilate's own motive was. The despised man of Nazareth was the Messiah. Where were the Jews if He was their King?... His title stood there, read by many, for the place was near the city... all the efforts of their high priests only riveted it to the cross.
The story of that title is not over.
God, no doubt, had a purpose in all this. The nation of Israel refused to own their King then. Yet at Christ's second coming it will be their joy to know that they have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace.
- Firm — the man who bent over a life would not bend over a sentence. God would not allow it.
- True — Roman custom put the crime above the criminal's head, and here the crime was that He was what He said He was.
- Kept — they tried to blot the writing out, but God kept it there. Pilate penned it; the Holy Spirit dictated it.
- Public — the title spoke to the religious, philosophical and political worlds. All could know the crucified Nazarene is King.
- Permanent — no one could alter that writing. The cross is the title to the kingdom, and the nation that refused Him will yet own Him at His coming.
The soldiers therefore, when they had crucified Jesus, took his clothes, and made four parts, to each soldier a part, and the body-coat; but the body-coat was seamless, woven through the whole from the top.
Jesus hung on the cross. The soldiers got on with business as usual: dividing up the clothes of the man they had just nailed there. John alone records that one item defeated them: a tunic with no seam. In that small detail he shows two things: how poor the Son of God became, and how exact God's word is.
The men at the cross were collecting what executioners always collected.
The soldiers were busy with His garments. This was the usual perk of executioners. They did not know that they were fulfilling the prophetic word written ten centuries earlier. The cross and everything connected with it had been under God's eye all along. David wrote by the Spirit about the events surrounding it, the way a historian writes past history. Four soldiers, it seems, were on duty at the cross, and the garments were divided into five lots. But who would get the fifth? That was a coat woven without a seam throughout. To divide it would ruin it. So they cast lots for it.
One writer sets the soldiers' small profit beside God's care for His Son.
The soldiers in charge of the execution thought of nothing beyond their small perks. But God's eye was on His Son now as always, and He had taken care in His word to mark it. One of the clearest psalms about the Messiah (Psalm 22:18) predicted, a thousand years beforehand, that the soldiers would take the Saviour's garments — in words that fit no one but Him. He is the object of Scripture, though unbelief does not see it and has a will against it... See with what interest the Holy Spirit watched every detail of His suffering, and of how men behaved in that hour. We should watch it too. God did not count Him less worthy because men made Him the object of such insults. The very smallness of these details bears witness to how accurate and real the prophecy is.
These clothes were not spare property. They were everything He owned.
A man's coat was his own. Even if he handed it over as a pledge during the day, the law of Moses said it must come back to him at night. These clothes the soldiers gambled for were the Lord's only possessions. Even these they took from Him. How poor He became for our sakes!
Why does John mention the seam at all? One writer reads the coat as a symbol, and sets it against the first clothing man ever made for himself.
We cannot help thinking that this detail is here because it carries a symbolic value. Everything about our Lord, both in His Person and in His work, was of one piece, woven throughout without a seam. With man in his fallen condition it is otherwise. The fitting symbol for man and his work is the fig-leaf apron Adam and his wife turned to after they sinned. They sewed fig leaves together. Anyone who knows the shape of a fig leaf will realise how many seams there must have been. Theirs was the patchwork apron; His was the seamless coat.
The words "from top to bottom" turn up again in the other Gospels — in a scene John leaves out.
In that coat Jesus appeared before men — the symbol of His perfection — and it was not to be torn. It is striking that only John speaks of this coat. He tells us it was "woven in one piece from top to bottom." Unlike the other Gospels, he leaves out any mention of the temple curtain that was "torn in two, from top to bottom." Everything about the Lord testified that He came from above and was above all. And the blow that set aside the old order of things at the hour of His death came from above too.
Another writer notes what the Lord's own hands never did to a garment.
The German writer Bengel points out that our Lord never "tore" His garments in sorrow. Job, Jacob, Joshua, Caleb, Jephthah, Hezekiah, Mordecai, Ezra, Paul and Barnabas all did. The seamless robe pictures His perfect righteousness. Human hands now stripped it from Him, so He took the place of a criminal.
What one soldier won by lot, others have seen as a picture of what God gives away.
It is one perfect, consistent whole — not to be torn. The one to whom God assigns it must have it whole or not at all. In sovereign grace, God provides this robe of a perfect righteousness for everyone who will receive it. This robe is Christ Himself.
- Unaware — The soldiers were only claiming an executioner's perk. By doing it they completed a prophecy written a thousand years before.
- Unwatched, yet watched — Nobody at the cross was tracking these details. God had tracked them since David wrote them down.
- Unowned — His clothes were His only possessions, and men took even those; this is how poor He became for us.
- Untorn — The coat had no seam, so dividing it would ruin it. His Person and work are one piece, unlike man's patchwork.
- Undivided gift — You cannot take a righteousness like that in pieces. You receive it whole or not at all, because the robe is Christ Himself.
They said therefore to one another, Let us not rend it, but let us cast lots for it, whose it shall be; that the scripture might be fulfilled which says, They parted my garments among themselves, and on my vesture they cast lots. The soldiers therefore did these things.
The soldiers at the foot of the cross were doing what executioners always did. They split the clothes of the man they had just crucified. One coat could not be cut up, so they gambled for it instead. Only John pauses here to say that Scripture had recorded this small scene a thousand years earlier.
The men dividing the clothing had no interest in Jesus beyond their pay. Yet their action is what proves who He is.
As the soldiers divide His garments among themselves, they become unknowing witnesses to the glory of His Person. For He is the One about whom this was foretold a thousand years before: "they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots" (Psalm 22:18). "So the soldiers did these things" — and fulfilled the word of God.
The prediction reads like a report of something already over.
The soldiers were busy with His garments, the usual perk of executioners. They had no idea that they were fulfilling the prophetic word written ten centuries earlier. The cross and everything connected with it had been under the eye of God even then. David wrote by the Spirit of the events surrounding it, as a historian writing up past history might have done.
A quarrel over clothing looks like the smallest thing happening on that hill. Its smallness is the point.
The soldiers in charge of the execution thought of little beyond their meagre perks. But God's eye was now, as always, on His Son, and He had taken care in His word to mark it... He is the object of Scripture, though unbelief does not see it... See with what interest the Holy Spirit watched every detail of His suffering, and of man's behaviour at that hour! We should watch it in the same way. God counted Him no less worthy for being made the object of such insults. To make these things known beforehand mattered more than anything. The smallness of the details named bears witness to the accurate reality of the prophecy. He is the proved Messiah as well as the rejected one.
For the soldiers, casting lots simply settled who got what. In Israel the lot carried a very different meaning.
They divide among themselves the garments they have stripped from Him. They cast the lot — which in Israel was sacred to the Lord (Proverbs 16:33) — to decide who owns that seamless priestly robe. That robe marks Him out as what He is, "the Mediator between God and men," the One on whom all blessing for man depends.
John alone tells us how the coat was made. Commentators read the garment as standing for the man who wore it.
This seamless robe reminds us of many things. It seems first of all to suggest the perfection of the Lord in His humanity. It was the garment most closely associated with the person... His perfect character, like His robe, was woven throughout and seamless. It was the product, may we say, of a life that had only one motive. In this way His robe stands for Himself, for the perfection of His Person.
Set that beside the first covering human beings ever made for themselves:
Everything about our Lord, both in His Person and in His work, was of one piece, woven throughout without a seam. With man in his fallen condition it is otherwise. The fitting symbol for man and his work is the fig leaf apron that Adam and his wife turned to after their sin. They sewed fig leaves together. Anyone who knows the shape of a fig leaf will realise how many seams there must have been. It was elaborate patchwork. Theirs was the patchwork apron; His was the seamless coat.
The law of Moses protected even a poor man's coat. Jesus kept nothing.
A man's coat was his own. Under the law of Moses, even if he handed it over as a pledge during the day, the lender had to give it back at night. These clothes the soldiers gambled for were the Lord's only possessions, and even these they took from Him. How poor He became for our sakes!
The men who nailed Him down walked away wearing what He had worn. The exchange did not end there.
His enemies, the men who nailed Him to the cross, received His clothes. And so for His naked creature He has provided the robe of righteousness by His death on the cross.
- Woven beforehand. Scripture recorded this scene ten centuries early. Men out only for their own gain proved who Jesus is without knowing it.
- Woven in detail. The tiny scale of the detail is the evidence. God's eye was on every insult, and He counted His Son no less worthy for it.
- Woven by God's hand. Men throw a lot to leave things to chance. In Israel the lot was sacred to the Lord, so He held the one thing the soldiers thought was random.
- Woven without a seam. The coat they could not divide answers to a life with one motive. Fallen man's own covering is seams and patchwork.
- Woven for us. They stripped Him of His last possession. By His death He gives the naked creature the robe of righteousness.
And by the cross of Jesus stood his mother, and the sister of his mother, Mary the [wife] of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Jesus therefore, seeing his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, says to his mother, Woman, behold thy son.
In the middle of the work of redemption, the dying Saviour turned His attention to His mother. His words from the cross raise three questions. Why did He say "Woman" instead of "mother"? Why John, and not her other sons? And why does Scripture say almost nothing about her after this?
Notice the contrast of scale. The One the whole universe depended on stopped to arrange a family matter.
On the cross is the eternal Son of God, the perfect Man, the King of the Jews. He is carrying out the work of redemption which God's purposes had decreed from all eternity. The whole universe depended on Him, yet as Man He was enduring every possible suffering. At such a moment we see Him giving close attention to one small detail. Nothing will make Him forget the love and respect He always had for His mother.
The word can sound cold to modern ears. Writers point out that it was His normal way of addressing her, and that He used it elsewhere with clear warmth.
He spoke that way to the Syrophoenician woman when He praised her faith (Matt. 15:28). The angels spoke that way to Mary at the tomb: "Woman, why are you weeping?" So did the Lord Himself on that occasion (John 20:13, 15)... Would anyone think He ought to have called her mother? Do we have a single instance of His ever addressing her that way? He spoke of her as His mother, but never, as far as we remember, addressed her so.
There is a second detail in the wording. The writer of the Gospel calls her "His mother," while the Lord calls her "Woman."
Mary was the mother of Jesus, and this favour from God led Gabriel to greet her as blessed among women. But, as we have seen, natural family ties could make no claim on a life of complete and perfect separation to God. And now that the Lord's death was near, even this tender and close tie was about to end... This teaches, beyond all contradiction, that nothing will ever take away, in its own sphere, the honour God gave Mary.
Earlier He had not recognised her as His mother. At the cross that changes, and one writer explains why.
During His service here on earth, He did not recognise His mother. His human relationships were really not in question. He was the bearer of the divine word in this world, the expression of that word in His Person, and nothing else. He was set apart from everything for this. Now that His divine ministry has ended, He recognises this relationship. Not as a link with the Jews — that was over — but as human affection... Now that His service is finished, His affection is free, and He shows it.
This cuts against the idea that holiness means suppressing natural feeling.
There they stood by the cross in the time of His rejection. There the Lord shows how far strict self-denial falls short of the truth... Yet eternal interests, taken up like this, do not erase or dishonour nature or its relationships according to God. The Lord marks that here in the most solemn and touching way: He commends John to His mother as her son, and Mary to John as his mother — a loving trust honoured from that hour.
Mary had other sons. One writer points to why John was chosen instead: "John 7:5 tells us, 'For not even his brothers believed in him.' How much stronger is the spiritual relationship than the natural!" (L. M. Grant). Another writer looks at what John's presence meant to the Lord.
Who can tell the comfort it must have been to Him in that dark hour to see John there!... The Lord was able to trust John now, and could commit a precious legacy to him. John was faithful to the trust. And He wants to trust us too, to have us as friends He can rely on... Imagine the Lord saying to you, "I want you to care for some who are precious to Me. I want you to look after My interests on earth while I am away."
After this scene, Scripture says almost nothing more about Mary.
Here, apart from one mention in the first chapter of Acts, we part with Mary. She is not named in the later books, and in all the teaching of the letters she has no place. She remains for us in the word of God a simple woman rejoicing in God her Saviour — a stone in the temple to His praise, and with no temple of her own.
- Love that notices. While He accomplished redemption, He gave close attention to His mother. Nothing made Him forget her.
- Love that speaks with care. "Woman" was His usual way of addressing her, and He used it elsewhere with warmth. The Gospel writer, not the Lord, uses the word "mother."
- Love that is free at last. During His service, natural ties made no claim on Him. With that service finished, His affection is free, and He shows it.
- Love that entrusts. John stood by the cross, and the Lord gave him a precious legacy. He still looks for friends He can trust with what is precious to Him.
- Love that keeps its place. God honours Mary in her own sphere, and then Scripture falls silent about her: a stone in the temple to His praise, with no temple of her own.
Then he says unto the disciple, Behold thy mother. And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.
From the cross the Lord looks at two people standing near Him: His mother and the disciple He loved. He joins them together in a new bond. The words are few. The question they raise is large. How can a man dying on a cross still be thinking about who will care for His mother?
Earlier in this same Gospel, at a wedding in Cana, Jesus refused His mother's prompting because His hour had not yet come. One writer sets that moment beside this one and finds no contradiction.
Through all the sorrows of the cross, the human tenderness of the Lord shines out. The fact that, at the beginning of His path, He would allow no interference from His mother in His heavenly mission (John 2:3-4) does not stop the Lord from caring for her earthly needs. So now He commends her to the care of one who, above all others, was trusting in the love of Jesus — the disciple who could lean on Jesus' breast and who five times describes himself as the disciple whom Jesus loved.
Through His public ministry the Lord kept His mother at a distance from His work. That distance had a reason, and it ends here.
During His service here below, He did not recognise His mother. His human relationships were not really the question. He was the bearer of the divine word in this world. He was the expression of that word in His Person, and nothing else — separated from everything for this. Now that His divine ministry has ended, He recognises this relationship. It is not a link with the Jews, for that was over. It is human affection. He commits her to John, the disciple He loved. Always turning her away was not a lack of natural affection, but faithfulness. Now that He has finished His service, His affection is free, and He shows it.
Some conclude that devotion to God means treating family bonds as unspiritual. This scene answers that.
But perfect human affections were there. The work He took up in communion with the Father had filled His heart and lips and hands with the higher object, to the glory of God. Yet eternal interests, taken up like this, do not erase or dishonour nature or its relationships according to God. The Lord marks this here. He commends John to His mother as son, and Mary to John as mother, in the most solemn and touching way — a loving trust honoured from that hour.
Mary is not merely handed over; she is given something. And John is not merely told a fact; he is given a duty.
There are two things in these words of our Lord that can be plainly grasped. First, He gives Mary, in her loss, comfort and an object. The beloved disciple knew the Lord's mind as no one else could, for he had laid his head on the Lord's breast. From now on he was to be as Mary's son. Mary might take him to her heart in a new way, as given to her by the Lord Himself. Second, He transferred His own earthly relationship to John when He said, "Behold, your mother!" He singled out the disciple whom He loved to fulfil all the loving responsibilities such a relationship involves. In a word, the Lord committed Mary to John's care. From then on John was to look after her and provide for her with a son's affection.
John was the one who had leaned on Jesus and the one still standing at the cross when others had gone. That closeness has a consequence others draw out for every reader.
And now see what came of John's faithfulness... Who can tell what comfort it must have been to Him in that dark hour to see John there! ... The Lord was able to trust John now; He could commit a precious legacy to him. And John was faithful to the trust. And He wants to trust us, to have us as friends He can rely on. What privilege could be greater than that? To have the Lord say to you, "I want you to care for some who are precious to Me. I want you to look after My interests on earth while I am away."
Mary leaves the cross as a woman who needs a home. What the rest of Scripture does not say about her matters too.
He commends His mother, standing by His cross, to the care of His beloved disciple. The spiritual link counts for more than the natural one, even while the natural one is recognised... She is surely blessed among women, through her connection with the human nature of our Lord. But the Spirit of truth came to make known the full body of Christian truth, and in it Scripture says nothing at all about her. That silence overturns the whole structure of Mary-worship. She remains for us in the word of God a simple woman rejoicing in God her Saviour — a stone in the temple to His praise, with no temple of her own.
- Trust given. The Lord hands over what is precious to Him, and He hands it to the disciple who stayed close and stayed near the cross.
- Trust timed. While His service demanded it, He kept His mother at a distance. Once He finished the work, His affection was free and He showed it.
- Trust honoured. Higher, eternal interests do not erase natural family ties — the Lord Himself names John son and Mary mother.
- Trust received. The Lord gives Mary comfort and an object. He gives John a son's responsibilities, and John takes her into his home.
- Trust, not worship. Mary needed a home, and John gave her one. Her honour is real, and Scripture's later silence about her leaves no room for worshipping her.
After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were now finished, that the scripture might be fulfilled, says, I thirst.
Jesus has hung on the cross for hours, and now He says two short words about His own body: "I thirst." He speaks them knowing His work is done, which raises the question of why He spoke at all, and what He was thirsting for.
The verse says He knew "that all was now finished." Those words point to a mind fully awake in the middle of torture.
In this verse we get another of those flashes of all-knowing insight that mark this Gospel. A few verses earlier we saw the soldiers fulfilling Scripture, though completely unaware that they were doing so. Now we see Jesus Himself in that dark hour, surveying the whole field of prophecy. He knew that of all the predictions about His death, only one had still to come true. In Psalm 69 David had written, "In my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink." A small thing in itself, but every word of God must come true in its season. In that hour of suffering He rose above His circumstances. He not only saw the one thing still missing; He also spoke the words that brought it about at once. No mere man could have done either the one or the other.
Pain alone did not open His mouth.
In the temptation He had refused to meet His own need apart from God's word; man lives by every word of it, He said. Now, on the same principle, He makes His need known — not so that it would be met, but so that Scripture would be fulfilled. He does not fulfil it Himself. He can trust God for that. He only gives voice to His distress, and once spoken, that distress brings the fulfilment about. The terrible thirst of crucifixion is upon Him; but that is not enough to force the parched lips to speak.
Commentators differ over where the words about fulfilling Scripture belong in the sentence.
Some ask whether the clause "that the Scripture might be fulfilled" belongs with "all things are now finished," or with "I thirst." Respected names can be listed on both sides. We would rather connect it with "I thirst." All that the Lord had to suffer of insult from man, and the forsaking of God, was over. But a scripture had spoken of giving Him vinegar, or sour wine, to drink (Ps. 69:21). Was that to be left unfulfilled? No.
The cry is evidence of a body that felt everything crucifixion does.
I think sometimes we forget that the Lord suffered physically, probably as no other could suffer. He never used His divine power to relieve His human suffering. When He cried, "I thirst," we see the suffering Man — the suffering Man in His perfection, stating plainly that He suffered.
There is an irony in the One who gives eternal life asking for a drink — and an ugliness in what men handed up to Him.
After the three hours of darkness, knowing that all was perfectly accomplished, the Lord Jesus said, in fulfilment of Scripture, "I thirst." He who gives the water of eternal life has Himself, in accomplishing the will of God, deeply thirsted. But men gave Him no water. They gave Him vinegar instead, meaning to add bitterness to His sufferings. Earlier they had mixed gall with vinegar, but He would not drink it, because that drink would dull His senses (Matt. 27:34).
One writer presses the cry further and asks what answered it.
Did not ten thousand times ten thousand angels break through the crowd of His enemies? Did they not refresh Him with purer water than the spring at Bethlehem? No, there was no answer to that cry from heaven. And what of men? Will they relent? Surely His thirst then was more than physical — He thirsted for a love that answered His own. There was no help from men. Their answer to the deepest need of His heart was vinegar, the sourest thing that earth can produce. The challenge comes to each one of us: what shall be our answer to His thirst?
- Knew. Dying, He surveyed all prophecy about His death and saw that one line only was still outstanding.
- Obeyed. He spoke not to get relief but so that a written word would stand; the fulfilling He left to God.
- Thirsted. The thirst was real. He never used His divine power to soften His human suffering.
- Vinegar. Heaven sent no rescue and men handed up sour wine — He had already refused the drug that would have dulled the pain.
- Answer. Behind the physical thirst one writer hears a longing for love. The world still offers vinegar. Each reader must decide what to give.
There was a vessel therefore there full of vinegar, and having filled a sponge with vinegar, and putting hyssop round it, they put it up to his mouth.
Jesus says, "I thirst," and the drink is already within reach. Commentators ask why John records so small a detail, and why the One who refused a drink earlier now takes this one. (Older translations render the drink "vinegar"; the ESV calls it sour wine.)
One writer asks why the Lord spoke of His thirst at all, and points to what was already standing ready.
All that the Lord had to suffer of indignity from man and the forsaking of God was over. But a scripture had spoken of giving Him vinegar, or sour wine, to drink (Ps. 69:21). Was that to be left unfulfilled? No. He was thirsty, the common effect of crucifixion, and so the Lord said, "I thirst." He was truly a man, and He felt what a man feels. And provision had been made to meet such a want. A vessel with the sour wine, the drink of common soldiers, was there. A sponge was at hand, and a stalk of hyssop was in readiness.
Matthew records a drink the Lord refused. John records one He took. They were not the same drink.
In Matthew's account it was the stupefying drink given to prisoners before they suffered. This the Lord would not drink. Whereas in John, the Lord, while on the cross, fulfils a scripture... He honours Scripture, and to fulfil a word that had not yet come true, He says, "I thirst." "And they filled a sponge with vinegar... and put it to His mouth." He did drink the vinegar then. But here in Matthew, on the contrary, "when He had tasted it, He would not drink" — He wanted no relief from man.
One writer sets this drink apart from two earlier offers.
When He was first crucified they offered Him wine mixed with myrrh to deaden the pain. He refused that. Luke tells us (23:36) that the soldiers offered Him their sour wine in mockery. But now it was not in mockery, but to relieve His thirst, that one ran, dipped the sponge in the wine, and gave Him to drink.
Hyssop is not a random twig. It runs through the Old Testament wherever blood or water is applied.
Hyssop has a large place in Scripture. They dipped a bunch of hyssop in the blood and put it on the lintel and the two doorposts on the Passover day (Ex. 12:22). They dipped hyssop in running water at the cleansing of the leper (Lev. 14:4-6)... David, in agony of soul, says, "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean" (Ps. 51:7)... It has a wonderful meaning in Scripture, connected with man's littleness.
The same writer looks at what those hands held out, and how the Lord took it.
They gave the Lord Jesus a sponge of vinegar on the end of a bunch of hyssop, on the day of His death, while He was suffering to put away sins. That hyssop spoke of the lowest and most degrading thing in nature. Yes, they could taunt Him with the bunch of hyssop in the hour of His agony... and Jesus, in the grace of His heart, received it, and said, "It is finished."
Thirst was voiced aloud to people who had watched Him suffer for hours. What came back is treated as their verdict on Him.
They answer Him with vinegar, the sourest thing the earth can yield, and they fulfil the Scripture which says, "They gave Me also gall for My food, and in My thirst they gave Me vinegar to drink" (Ps. 69).
The same writer turns this into a question for the reader.
There was no help from men for Him. Their answer to the deepest need of His heart was vinegar — the sourest thing that earth can produce. The challenge comes to each one of us — what shall be our answer to His thirst? Shall we pour out to Him the sweet wine of undivided hearts, hearts that have been won by His great love? The world still gives Him vinegar.
A sponge, a stalk, a mouthful of sour wine — the scale of the thing is the argument.
This last thing cared for looks small, and that smallness is absolute proof that no scripture at all could be treated as unimportant. Christ's authority confirms and certifies the entire body of Old Testament prophecy. He had said before, "Scripture cannot be broken"... Here, in the intense sufferings of the cross, we see how completely He owned it and was guided by it.
The same writer adds that He did not arrange the fulfilment Himself. He spoke, and it happened.
He does not fulfil it Himself. God can be trusted to take care of that. He gives voice to the distress, and once it is spoken it brings about the fulfilment... He only says, "I thirst." Then the unsympathetic hands around His cross offer the vinegar, and the prophecy is fulfilled.
- Thirst — Crucifixion brought terrible thirst, and He said so. He was really a man, feeling what a man feels.
- Two cups — The stupefying drink offered earlier He refused; He wanted no relief from man. This one He received, because a Scripture waited on it.
- Hyssop — The plant of the Passover doorposts and the cleansed leper, the sign of man's littleness, lifted the sponge to His mouth.
- Vinegar — The sourest thing earth can yield was man's answer to His need. What will we give Him instead?
- Finished — The smallest unfulfilled word mattered enough to be spoken for. Having received the vinegar, He said, "It is finished."
When therefore Jesus had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished; and having bowed his head, he delivered up his spirit.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
The Jews therefore, that the bodies might not remain on the cross on the sabbath, for it was [the] preparation, (for the day of that sabbath was a great [day],) demanded of Pilate that their legs might be broken and they taken away.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
The soldiers therefore came and broke the legs of the first and of the other that had been crucified with him;
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
but coming to Jesus, when they saw that he was already dead they did not break his legs,
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
but one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and immediately there came out blood and water.
A soldier's spear was the last thing done to the body of Jesus. John stops his story to insist that he saw what came out — so why did this small detail matter so much, and what do the blood and water mean?
John's care over this one detail is the first clue to its weight.
It is a historic fact recorded by the Apostle John (19:34) that a soldier pierced the side of the dead Christ, and "at once there came out blood and water." The Apostle pauses to confirm it in a solemn way, as a personal eyewitness (John 19:35). We might conclude that he attached very special importance to it, even if there were no further reference to it anywhere.
The blood and water came from a body that was already dead. One writer sees a deliberate sign from God in that.
It was really from the dead Man. God furnished this supernatural sign of a work belonging to the incarnate Son of God alone; and the Spirit of God thought it so significant for His glory and man's reconciliation as first to record it in the last Gospel, and then to apply it to us in the Epistle before us.
Could there be a physical cause behind it? One writer weighs a suggestion others have made, and finds it points the same way.
The separation of the liquid blood into blood and water showed that death had taken place: it is never so except after death. Some think the water here was what fills the sac in which the heart sits. Breaking that sac, they say, is what produces a broken heart. If so, then whether it was broken by the convulsions of sorrow or pierced by the spear, death must have taken place.
Blood and water flowed together, but they are not the same thing, and their order matters. One writer notes how often the second of the two gets forgotten.
Strange to say, this water is almost dropped out of the faith of Christendom, though it occupies quite as large a place in the Word, both in doctrine and in type, as the blood — the last for propitiation, the first for purification. The blood is the ground of everything before God, and is therefore put first in John 19:34. In 1 John 5:8 the order is that of their application to us.
Propitiation is the sacrifice that satisfies God about sin. Purification is the cleansing of a person's life.
The two also work in different ways. One is settled once. The other is needed every day.
In that way the blood of Christ is applied to us by God once and for all; the water is used by us for daily, hourly cleansing. Ephesians 5:26 tells us plainly what the water is: "the washing of water with the word." This is cleansing for the Christian, who already has a standing before God because of the blood. The blood is the atoning aspect of the death of Christ. The water is the death of Christ presented to the believer in a practical way, leading to the cleansing of his ways and habits.
Nothing made the soldier use his spear. Jesus was already dead. Yet what came out of the wound answered the very act that made it.
The wretched soldier knew he could insult the meek and lowly Jesus without any consequence, and in that cowardly weakness he pierced His side with a spear. By that disgraceful act he let out the water and the blood, which was able to cleanse even someone like him. Here God revealed His heart — what He is to the sinner — and this is our salvation.
No one can say what moved the soldier. But his spear served a purpose that prophecy had already fixed — and left a mark that outlasted the grave.
Was it a thoughtless act by the man who did it? Was it out of contempt for the King of the Jews? Who can now say what moved the man to use the spear? But we know that in that act provision was being made for the fulfilment in a coming day of the prophetic words of Zechariah (12:10). And John calls attention to this. The mark of that spear thrust also remained after His resurrection (John 20:20, 27). Will it not be a mark by which the remnant of His people will recognise Him when He returns?
- Witnessed. John stops the story to say he saw it himself. He attached very special importance to this one detail.
- Death. The blood and water came from a body already dead. It was God's sign of a work that belongs to the Son of God alone.
- Blood. Listed first, because it is the ground of everything before God. It makes propitiation, and God applies it to us once and for all.
- Water. Listed second here, first in John's letter. It cleanses a life by the Word, and the believer who already stands secure through the blood uses it every day.
- Grace. The last insult man could offer opened the wound that cleansing flowed from. It was enough even for the soldier who made it.
And he who saw it bears witness, and his witness is true, and he knows that he says true that ye also may believe.
John stood close enough to the cross to see a soldier drive a spear into the side of Jesus, and blood and water came out. Here he stops the story to affirm the truth of what he saw. His reason is plain: "that you also may believe."
One writer notes how much this eyewitness left out of his account, and what he chose to keep in.
From a dead Saviour flow the tokens of an eternal and perfect salvation — the water and the blood. The one cleanses the sinner; the other makes expiation for his sins. The evangelist saw it. His love for the Lord makes him glad to remember that he saw Him like this right to the end; he tells it so that we may believe. … How many things John witnessed which he did not relate! The cry of grief and of abandonment, the earthquake, the centurion's confession, the story of the thief — all these took place before his eyes. He kept his eyes fixed on his Master, yet he does not mention them.
Another writer names who else stood behind the record, and how long John carried what he saw.
We are sure that John never did nor could forget those sights. They stayed with him as an unforgettable, ever-present memory through the eighty years he lived after them. He often spoke of them, and at last wrote them down for our good. But it was not only a strong human memory that carried the record. The Holy Spirit also had His part in it (John 14:26).
His solemn words guard the fact everything else rests on: He truly died.
But the Evangelist fixes our attention on the result of that cruel deed — "at once there came out blood and water." In verse 35 he solemnly affirms that his record is true, so that faith may spring up in the reader. It is to this that he refers. First, this piercing of His side showed everyone that death had truly taken place. Second, it shed His blood. To see how important that is, we need only recall that "without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins" (Heb. 9:22).
What John saw becomes the ground of teaching in his first letter, where the Spirit Himself steps forward as witness. One writer names what the water, the blood and the Spirit each answer to in us.
The historical fact behind the teaching is the one recorded in the Gospel, John 19:34. The next verse draws special attention to it, as recorded by John who saw it… Here, instead of putting that inspired witness forward, the Spirit takes this place. He is the greatest of all present witnesses for Christ. To take "the water" here as baptism is as childish as taking "the blood" for the Lord's Supper — which everyone admits is childish. Purification, propitiation, and power answer to the three. All of them flow to us in the death of Christ, the Son of God, or as a result of it.
Writers differ on how the blood and water came out. One allows a medical explanation while leaving room for a direct act of God.
Some say there is a sac near the heart that releases a large amount of water, but only in cases of extreme suffering. That, of course, is unusual. But on the other hand this may have been entirely a miracle of God. 1 John 5:6 comments on the blood and water, indicating its spiritual significance. Blood is for the judicial cleansing from the guilt of sins. Water, on the other hand, speaks of the moral cleansing that the word of God brings about in new birth.
Another rules out any natural cause, and corrects a popular idea about how Jesus died.
We look for no natural cause to account for this strange result of the piercing. It is said that the Lord died of a broken heart, and the blood and water were the proof of it. He did not die of a broken heart, He lived with a broken heart, but His death was unique. He yielded up His life, and the blood and water from His side was as unique as His death.
None of us were there. That is why the verse exists.
God has made a full revelation of Himself. He has shown men what He is. But when He did it, we were not there to see. If that revelation is to reach us and bless us, and if we are to believe and understand it, we must have a true record of it — a record inspired by God. And that is what we have here. … What was it that he saw? The Son of God hanging dead on a cross, with blood and water flowing from His wounded side. That was a great sight, and God commends it to our special attention.
- Witness. John left out the earthquake, the centurion and the thief. He kept his eyes on his Master, and records the pierced side.
- True. His memory carried the sight for eighty years, but the record is not memory alone — the Holy Spirit had His part in it.
- Dead. The spear proved to everyone that He had truly died, and it shed His blood.
- Flowing. From a dead Saviour come water and blood — one to cleanse the sinner, the other to make expiation for his sins.
- Believe. We were not there to see, so God gave a true record of what an eyewitness saw — so that we would believe.
For these things took place that the scripture might be fulfilled, Not a bone of him shall be broken.
Soldiers came to break the legs of the crucified men, but they found Jesus already dead and left His bones unbroken. John sees this as the fulfilment of a command God gave in Egypt centuries earlier — but why do the bones of God's Son matter so much?
Israel kept the rule about the Passover lamb for generations. Nobody knew why it mattered. One writer explains what that command had been waiting for.
He was the true Passover Lamb (1 Corinthians 5:7). So the rule about that lamb referred to Him. God gave Israel a special command for preparing their Passover lamb: "Neither shall you break a bone of it" (Exodus 12:46). Why He gave that command to the people in Egypt was not clear at the time. Israel kept many, many Passovers after that, and always kept the rule. Yet the reason for it remained a mystery. Now it was discovered.
The rule was not just a detail of ritual. God gave it because of who the lamb pictured.
No bone must be broken, because the lamb was a picture of Christ. So John says, "These things took place that the Scripture might be fulfilled: 'Not one of His bones will be broken.'" (John 19:36.) Christ, then, was clearly in the mind of the Spirit in the Passover lamb. And it is a great blessing for us, as we read the account, to share His own thoughts and see nothing but Christ.
The soldiers had orders and no reason for mercy. What stopped them was not their own restraint.
We may be sure the soldiers would have broken the legs of the Lord just as willingly as those of the thieves. But they could not. The restraining hand of God was there, for the Scripture had said, "Not one of His bones will be broken."
C E Stuart explains what God had in view when He gave that command in Egypt, and what the soldiers never guessed.
God, it was now shown, had been looking forward in that command to the death of His Son, who would give up His life, no man taking it from Him... Those Roman soldiers, in what they did not do, did not know that they were carrying out the mind of God.
Crucified men usually took a long time to die. Jesus did not, and one writer asks why.
It was unusual for a crucified man to die so soon... One reason for it is seen in the second passage. It was written, "Not one of His bones will be broken." Through the predictions of His prophets, God had graciously set a stamp on every step of the path His beloved One was to walk. This showed how much He loved to consider all those steps of His Son's lonely way. It also showed how much He wanted to give every possible confirmation to those who would draw near to Him through Jesus.
Commentators read the bones as more than anatomy.
The bones are the framework of the body. They speak of the basic truth about His person, which stayed unchanged and unbroken right through His dreadful sufferings.
The Passover lamb was not only killed. It was eaten, and eaten whole.
Of the Passover it was said, "You shall break no bone of it"; the lamb was to be kept whole. So too with the true Passover Lamb, a bone was not to be broken. It is the whole Christ, who gave Himself up for us, on whom we feed and will feed for all eternity.
Commentators differ on how far the picture reaches. Some keep it to the Person of Christ. One writer extends it to the church as His body. Its unity, he says, "is as much in His keeping as is her justification, acceptance, and eternal security." Against every hostile influence, "the body of Christ is one and its divine unity can never be broken." (C. H. Mackintosh)
- Written — God gave the command about the lamb's bones in Egypt for a reason nobody could see. The cross revealed it.
- Kept — the soldiers were willing to break His legs, but God's hand held them back; His life was given up, not taken from Him.
- Timed — He died sooner than crucified men usually did, so God's word about His bones held true to the letter.
- Whole — His unbroken bones speak of a Person whose inner framework never gave way.
- Ours — that undivided Lamb is the One believers feed on now and for eternity.
And again another scripture says, They shall look on him whom they pierced.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.