Jesus said, “I am”
Jesus replied, “If I glorify myself, my glory means nothing. My Father, whom you claim as your God, is the one who glorifies me . . . . Your father Abraham rejoiced at the thought of seeing my day; he saw it and was glad.”
“You are not yet fifty years old,” they said to him, “and you have seen Abraham!”
“Very truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “before Abraham was born, I am!” (John 8:54–58)
Throughout history, many people have thought highly of Jesus even while dismissing the notion that he ever did anything supernatural. Thomas Jefferson was one of those people. Jefferson even edited the four gospels so that they retained the words of Jesus but excluded his miracles and his claims to be God.
“We must reduce our volume to the simple evangelists,” Jefferson wrote to John Adams. (By evangelists, he meant the gospel accounts.) He told Adams that he would “select . . . the very words only of Jesus,” adding that these words were “fragments of the most sublime edifice of morality which had ever been exhibited to man”—high praise for Jesus indeed! Yet Jefferson refused to admit that Jesus could be God.
Jefferson knew that Jesus claimed to be God. But many today who believe that Jesus was merely a great teacher or a wonderful moral example are surprised to learn that Christ never made such claims. But what did Jesus say about himself?
The Jewish people view their ancestor Abraham as the patriarch of their religion. According to their holy scriptures, God told Abraham to leave his country as well as his father and mother to travel to the land now called Israel. The Lord promised Abraham the land and told him that his descendants would be as impossible to count as the stars in the heavens.
Since Abraham lived about 2,000 years before Christ, Jesus astonished his audience when he stated that Abraham anticipated his coming. That’s impossible! they thought. Jesus was not even fifty years old, and yet he claimed to know the thoughts of one who lived over two millennia before he was born.
This is where the plot thickens. Because many of us are unfamiliar with the Jewish scriptures (what many call the Old Testament), we miss the original shock-value of Jesus’s reply: “Before Abraham was born, I am!” But Jesus’s audience knew exactly what he was saying.
When God first appeared to Moses in the form of a burning bush, Moses asked him, “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?” God replied to Moses, “I am who I am. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I am has sent me to you’” (exodus 3:13–14). One scholar explains, “The name should thus be understood as referring to [God’s] being the creator and sustainer of all that exists and thus the Lord of both creation and history, all that is and all that is happening.”
In essence, Jesus is telling his listeners that he is the One who spoke to Moses. He existed long before Abraham was born because he is the eternal, everlasting God who has no beginning or end. He simply “is.” And in case we think that we’re reading into the text something that Jesus didn’t really mean to say, John’s Gospel adds the following: “At this, they picked up stones to stone him, but Jesus hid himself, slipping away from the temple grounds” (john 8:59).
Why would they attempt to kill Jesus for making such a statement? We get the plain answer later, when they again tried to stone Jesus. He was in the temple courts when the people asked him point blank, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly” (john 10:24). Jesus told them, “The works I do in my Father’s name testify about me, but you do not believe because you are not my sheep” (vv. 25–26). Then he got their attention with a statement they couldn’t miss: “I and the Father are one” (v. 30).
At that, the crowd picked up stones to kill him. “‘We are not stoning you for any good work,’ they replied, ‘but for blasphemy, because you, a mere man, claim to be God’” (v. 33).
If Jesus’s claim is true, it changes everything. Throughout the centuries, countless people have claimed to teach us about God, but their teachings often contradict each other. Why should we believe one rather than another—or any of them for that matter? But Jesus is different. He is not merely a religious teacher or even a prophet sent by God. He tells us he is the Creator and sustainer of the universe. Our Creator came to earth in the person of Jesus so that we could know what he is truly like and not have to rely on religious speculation. No wonder people were astonished—and put off—by his teachings!
As we read the other “I am” statements in this booklet, we may be confused by the fact that Jesus prayed to his heavenly Father. How can God pray to himself? The earliest Christians wrestled with this conundrum. They knew that one of the most important teachings of Judaism was found in the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one” (6:4). In other words, there is only one God and all others are mere idols. Therefore, Jesus could not be claiming to be a second God.
The early church eventually concluded that they were dealing with a mystery beyond human comprehension. They called this mystery the “Trinity.” There is only one God who exists in three persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Throughout the centuries, many skeptics have rejected the idea of the Trinity because it seemingly defies logic. Jefferson wrote that the “paradox that one is three, and three but one, is so incomprehensible to the human mind, that no candid man can say he has any idea of it, and how can he believe what presents no idea?”
And yet today we know that many scientific discoveries are beyond our comprehension. Light sometimes behaves as a wave and at other times like a particle. It cannot be both, but it refuses to obey the dictates of human logic. The Big Bang theory tells us that the universe had a beginning, but science reaches its limits in trying to explain either how or why. And when we measure a particle in one part of the universe, that measurement instantaneously affects its twin particle in another part of the universe, because the two are mysteriously “entangled.” Einstein called this “spooky action at a distance.” It’s humbling to realize the limits of our understanding.
In the first sentences of John’s gospel, he stretches our thinking when he describes the mystery of the Trinity in the following way, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made” (john 1:1–3).
Jesus said, “I am the bread of life”
“I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” (john 6:35)
Is there anything better than fresh-baked bread? When I was in elementary school in Dallas, we went on a field trip to the headquarters and factory of Mrs. Baird’s Bread. After we watched the dough being poured into pans on an assembly line and then cooked in an oven, we were each given a small fresh-baked loaf of bread that was still warm from the oven and covered with butter. We all thought it was the best bread we had ever eaten!
In our day, bread often accompanies the main meal but is considered optional. But in Jesus’s day, bread was the most significant part of the meal and the primary means for satisfying people’s daily hunger. Their very lives depended on bread.
To comprehend Jesus’s claim to be “the bread of life,” we must look at the setting. Earlier in John’s gospel, a large crowd had followed Jesus but had not brought food with them. Jesus was concerned for them, so he asked one of his disciples, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” (john 6:5). The writer gives us additional information: “He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do” (v. 6).
The disciple, whose name was Philip, responded: “It would take more than half a year’s wages to buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!” Then another of Jesus’s disciples spoke up, “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?” (vv. 7–8).
At that point, Jesus told his disciples to have the crowd sit down, and John mentions that the number of men (not counting women and children) totaled about five thousand. Jesus then gave thanks for the bread and fish and had his disciples distribute it to the people.
If I had been one of Jesus’s disciples that day, I would have been embarrassed to carry out his orders. How could such a tiny meal possibly feed what scholars have estimated to be over ten thousand people—especially since each family was given “as much as they wanted”? Yet John tells us, “When they had all had enough to eat, [Jesus] said to his disciples, ‘Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.’ So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten” (vv. 11–13).
How’s that for math! You begin with a small sack-lunch, distribute it to ten thousand people, and then end up with twelve baskets of leftovers. Clearly, John is claiming that Jesus performed an amazing miracle that day, somehow enabling thousands of people to be fed from only five small loaves of bread and two fish. But what is the point of the miracle? Is Jesus merely demonstrating that he can meet our physical needs of hunger and thirst?
Jesus urges us to look for a deeper meaning in his words and actions. When the people crowded around him the following day, they were likely expecting another miracle—perhaps another free meal. But Jesus told them, “Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you” (v. 27). In other words, Jesus is offering them “bread” that does far more than sustain them physically. He has the power to give them eternal life, which will satisfy their hunger and quench their thirst forever.
If we’re honest with ourselves, we must admit that we hunger and thirst for more than food and water. Many people assume that finding the right man or woman will satisfy their deepest needs. Others believe that a successful career will fulfill their inner longings. Perhaps the greatest illusion is that money, fame, and power will give us everything we desire.
But we have ample evidence that those who achieve the greatest levels of wealth, power, and fame are often the unhappiest people on earth. Sometimes those things do make us happy, but in the end they disappoint us. Even when things are going well, we feel something is missing. Our greatest mistake is seeking to fill our spiritual longings with temporary things and then wonder why we still feel empty!
My wife and I live in Florida near De Leon Springs, a beautiful park with a natural spring producing 19 million gallons of water a day at 72 degrees year-round. The park is named after Juan Ponce de León, who explored Florida in 1513, supposedly looking for the Fountain of Youth, said to restore youthfulness to anyone drank its waters. For many years the park had a fountain that flowed from the spring, and visitors could drink as much water as they wanted. None of them ever experienced eternal youthfulness.
In essence, Jesus claims in John 6 that he is the Fountain of Youth. He leaves us to ponder his statement: “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst” (v. 35).
Jesus said, “I am the light of the world”
“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (john 8:12)
Have you ever experienced total darkness? My wife and I did a few years ago when we were touring an underground cave. The tour guide told us what was about to happen, and then suddenly all of the lights in the cave were turned off. Immediately, we were enveloped in darkness so total that we could see absolutely nothing. It was an unnerving experience! Then, at the flick of a switch, the lights came back on and we could see again. Without that light, we would never have found our way out of the cave.
Many people search eagerly for some sort of light to illuminate their journey through life. A few years ago, a pastor named Rick Warren wrote a book entitled The Purpose-Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here For? Readers around the world were so passionate about finding their life’s purpose that sales far exceeded anyone’s expectations. The message of the book was simple: God has created each one of us with a unique purpose. Warren asserts that we can only discover that purpose in Jesus Christ. He is the One who illuminates our way through life.
During an annual Jewish holiday known as the Festival of Tabernacles, Jesus claimed to be “the light of the world.” This took place in Jerusalem and was centered in the temple. According to Jewish history:
. . . four large stands each held four golden bowls; these were placed in the heavily-used Court of the Women. These sixteen golden bowls (reached by ladders) were filled with oil and used the worn undergarments of the priests for wicks. When they were lit at night (so the rabbis said), all Jerusalem was illumined. In a world that did not have public lighting after dusk, this light shining from Jerusalem’s yellow limestone walls must have been spectacular. . . . Imagine the scene! In the very court where the lighting ceremony takes place, Jesus stands beneath the sixteen lit bowls of oil and says that he is not only the true light of Jerusalem, but of the whole world!
The imagery of light and darkness is obviously important in understanding Jesus’s claim about himself. Darkness symbolizes ignorance, error, evil, and anything else that would cause a person to stumble or lose their way in life. In contrast, light symbolizes truth, goodness, and guidance from God. Jesus claims that he alone can provide the light we need to make it safely to our destination—and to our ultimate home.
Not surprisingly, Jesus’s opponents question his claim, especially since they know that light is the symbol for God’s guidance in the Old Testament. From childhood they had been instructed to sing, “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?” (psalm 27:1).
So Jesus faces a challenge. How can he prove the truth of a spiritual claim—one that only those who follow him can know experientially? Just as with the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus again authenticates his point with an amazing miracle.
In the very next chapter of John’s gospel, we read this story:
As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?”
“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”
Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man’s eyes. “Go,” he told him, “wash in the Pool of Siloam” (this word means Sent). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing. (john 9:1–7)
The blind man in this story had lived his entire life in the total darkness—the kind my wife and I experienced briefly in the cave. He had never seen the beauty of a sunrise, or the delicate design of a flower, or the faces of family and friends. But suddenly, miraculously, Jesus had given him sight. The “light of the world” had broken through this man’s darkness, enabling him to see.
We miss the deeper meaning of this man’s healing if we stop here. The blind man was given not only physical sight but also the ability to see clearly who Jesus really is. After the man had been healed, the religious leaders in Jerusalem interrogated and insulted him because he believed Jesus had been sent from God. They told him, “We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we don’t even know where he comes from” (v. 29). The man’s response was incredibly bold, especially considering the fact that he was at the bottom of the social and religious scale, while they were at the top:
“Now that is remarkable! You don’t know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly person who does his will. Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”
To this they replied, “You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!” And they threw him out. (vv. 30–34)
Jesus, too, had been rejected and insulted by the religious establishment in Jerusalem. So when he heard how the man had been treated, he found him and asked, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” (v. 35).
That’s a good question for us too.
We may have difficulty understanding Jesus’s question today if we are unfamiliar with the Old Testament. To us it seems like Jesus is not claiming to be the Son of God but rather only the “Son of Man”—an ordinary human like the rest of us. Yet that’s not the case. Jesus is alluding to the prophet Daniel, who wrote about the coming Messiah: “In my vision at night I looked, and there before me was one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven. He approached the Ancient of Days and was led into his presence. He was given authority, glory and sovereign power; all nations and peoples of every language worshiped him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never be destroyed” (daniel 7:13–14). So when Jesus asked, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” his question was loaded with meaning.
“Who is he, sir?” the man asked. “Tell me so that I may believe in him.”
Jesus said, “You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you.”
Then the man said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him.
Jesus said, “For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind.”
Some Pharisees who were with him heard him say this and asked, “What? Are we blind too?”
Jesus said, “If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains.” (vv. 36–41)
I still have a vivid memory of the night I became a Christian. I was a senior in high school and had grown up in a family that never went to church, read the Bible, or prayed. In some ways my conversion experience could be compared to that of the blind man, who had lived his entire lifetime in darkness. My life lacked meaning, purpose, and significance. I had always professed some kind of vague belief in God, but he seemed remote, unapproachable, and about as real as Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.
But that night everything changed. When I accepted Jesus as my Savior and Lord, the light of God’s reality suddenly flooded into my heart and mind, and I realized that an entirely new dimension of life had opened up to me. I didn’t yet know how profoundly this gift of sight would change me, but I went home knowing that I would never be the same again.
Jesus said, “I am the gate”
“Very truly I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who have come before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep have not listened to them. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (john 10:7–9)
Many people who live in an urban or suburban environment have only seen sheep in a petting zoo. But in Jesus’s day, shepherds and sheep were common sights, and John’s original readers would have been familiar with sheep herding. They would also have been aware of the many Old Testament references to God as the shepherd of Israel, including the well-known twenty-third psalm, which begins with the words, “The Lord is my shepherd.” So the imagery of this “I am” statement and the next (“I am the good shepherd”) would have been very familiar to Jesus’s audience.
He begins by describing a typical first-century sheep pen and the way it functioned for both shepherds and sheep:
Very truly I tell you Pharisees, anyone who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of his sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice. (john 10:1–5)
A few years ago, a friend of mine invited me to join him and twenty-five others on a tour of Israel. On one of our first stops, we visited a sheep pen. If I had heard the words “sheep pen” prior to this trip, I would have imagined an enclosure made of either wood or metal. But in Israel the most common material is stone, and therefore the enclosure we saw that day was made of large white rocks piled on top of each other to a height of about three feet. This is the type of pen that Jesus’s readers would have seen in first-century Israel.
At sundown sheep were led into this enclosure to protect them from predators and thieves. Some sheep pens, including the one Jesus describes, were large enough to house more than one flock. For security, there was only one gate into the pen. A watchman, who was a hired hand, only allowed certain shepherds and sheep to enter that gate. If anyone tried to come into the pen at night by climbing over the wall, it was clear that he was a thief and a robber, not a legitimate shepherd. In smaller sheep pens, the shepherd himself would sometimes lie down at the entrance to the pen, becoming a human gate that protected the sheep from all intruders.
Surprisingly, Jesus does not begin this story by describing himself as the “good shepherd” but rather as the “gate” into the sheep pen. He thereby claims to be the one and only way into the pen—a theme he will repeat in some of his other “I am” statements. Only those sheep and shepherds who come through Jesus can experience the benefits of his promise: “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (v. 10).
I first heard that promise the night I became a Christian, when someone read to me from a booklet that told me, “God loves you and offers a wonderful plan for your life.” That was followed by the quote from John’s gospel, “‘I came that they might have life, and might have it abundantly’ [that it might be full and meaningful] (john 10:10).”
I would never have thought of Jesus coming to give me abundant life. Like many who had never read the first-century accounts about him, I imagined that he came to make sure I kept a bunch of rules and stayed out of trouble. Or, possibly, he came to make sure I went to church regularly, and that I spent most of the rest of my time praying and reading the Bible—all of which sounded completely boring and the opposite of the life I longed for!
Imagine my surprise when I learned that Jesus didn’t come to make me a religious fanatic but rather to give me a full and satisfying life. He promised to give me everything I truly wanted, and that caught me off-guard.
I’m not suggesting that Jesus doesn’t care about how we live. His analogy of the gate, the shepherd, and the sheep makes that clear. Jesus’s sheep are identified by two key characteristics: (1) They realize that a full life, both now and eternally, can only be found in Jesus, and (2) his sheep know his voice and follow him. Following Jesus involves not only believing in him but following his teachings, especially those related to loving God and loving others. But these commands aren’t intended to enslave us but rather to liberate us by transforming us into the loving, relational people God intended us to be. As we will see in the next section, the Good Shepherd truly cares about his sheep.
Jesus said, “I Am the Good Shepherd”
“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (John 10:11).
We are inspired by acts of heroism and bravery, especially when they involve the ultimate sacrifice: a combat marine throws himself on a grenade to save his buddies; a soldier pushes a young girl out of the way of a military truck only to be struck and killed himself; one of six survivors of the crash of Air Florida Flight 90 repeatedly hands a helicopter life-ring to others rather than being rescued himself and then disappears below the surface of a freezing lake.
In John chapter 10 Jesus describes himself as the good shepherd who sacrifices himself in order to save his sheep. He tells his audience about himself and his relationship to his “sheep”:
I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me—just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep. . . . The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life—only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again. This command I received from my Father. (vv. 14–18)
Notice that Jesus is not just saying that he is willing to die for his followers. Instead, he predicts the fact that he will both die (“lay it down”) and rise from the dead (“take it up again”). We know from the four Gospels and from other historical documents that Jesus was crucified by the Romans. This was a horrible form of execution in which a person was nailed through his hands and feet to a wooden cross and left to die. Jesus knew that this form of death awaited him. But he also knew it was not forced on him (“no one takes it from me”) but rather was voluntary on his part (“I lay it down of my own accord”).
Why would Jesus willingly endure such a cruel and inhumane form of torture and execution? He states that he does it “for the sheep.” New Testament scholar Gary Burge writes: “To die ‘for’ (Greek hyper) the sheep is significant. Throughout the Fourth Gospel this word is used almost exclusively in a context of sacrifice, usually describing Jesus’s death on behalf of others (e.g., 6:51; 10:11).” The Jewish people to whom Jesus was speaking offered animal sacrifices at the Temple in Jerusalem in order to receive forgiveness for their sins. Jesus knew his death was the only sacrifice that would truly accomplish what animal sacrifices merely symbolized.
We would be mistaken, therefore, if we viewed Jesus as someone who simply died a martyr’s death or whose life was tragically taken from him. Jesus himself contradicts such a view. Instead, he voluntarily sacrificed his life for his followers, his “sheep,” so that they could receive God’s forgiveness for their sins.
We are also mistaken if we imagine that Jesus’s death is the end of the story. Each of the four gospels records the fact that Jesus was resurrected—or came back to life—the third day after his death. He was seen not only by his closest followers but also by over 500 people (1 corinthians 15:3–8). Jesus predicted this outcome when he claimed that God had given him not only authority to lay down his life but also to “take it up again.” This is the theme of the next section.
Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life”
“I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” (john 11:25–26)
Jesus spoke these words to a woman named Martha after the death her brother Lazarus, who was one of Jesus’s dearest friends. He tried to comfort Martha in her grief by assuring her: “Your brother will rise again” (11:23). Martha assumed that Jesus was referring to the resurrection of the dead at the end of time, and so she replied, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day” (v. 24). But Jesus had something more immediate in mind.
Likewise, Martha viewed this future resurrection as something distant and remote. But she completely missed the fact that the true source of life and resurrection was standing right in front of her. Jesus boldly states, “I am the resurrection and the life”!
Shortly after graduating from seminary, I was asked to speak at the funeral of a man named Frank Nelson, who was the father of a dear friend. I had never spoken at a funeral before, and I decided to use this passage from John’s gospel. While preparing my message, I discovered that Jesus is actually making two significant claims, although they are closely related.
His first claim is “I am the resurrection,” which he explains by saying that “the one who believes in me will live, even though they die.” Many people today believe that when they die they will live eternally as disembodied spirits. But that notion comes from ancient Greek culture, not from the Bible. I assured those at the funeral that even though Frank Nelson had died, he would one day be resurrected from the dead, and his body and spirit would be rejoined forever. His new body, however, would not be like the old one, which was subject to decline, disease, weakness, and death. Instead, as the apostle Paul explains, “The perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality” (1 corinthians 15:53). Our current bodies are not fit for eternity. But our resurrection bodies will be immortal and imperishable.
Jesus’s second claim is that he is “the life,” which he explains by adding, “Whoever lives by believing in me will never die.” To those attending the funeral that day, Jesus’s statement that those who believe in him will never die must have seemed hollow—even cruel. Frank Nelson had believed in Jesus, and yet he had died and was lying in a casket right in front of us.
But Jesus was not claiming that those who believe in him would never die physically. Clearly, our bodies will die and will need to be raised from the dead. Instead, Jesus was focusing on the moment of death, when we draw our last breath and then die. I have always wondered what that moment will be like, and to be honest it is somewhat frightening. My father-in-law, who is now deceased, once said: “Everyone wants to go to heaven, but no one wants to die to get there.” I agree!
Yet Jesus tells us in advance what we might expect, and his words are full of encouragement and hope. Even though our bodies at that final moment will die, everything else we are—whether we call it our spirit or soul or personality—will not die. Instead, we will make a transition from life in this world to life in the next. And in that very important sense, we will never experience death. A famous preacher who lived in the Victorian Era once said, “Someday you will read in the papers, ‘D. L. Moody of East Northfield is dead.’ Don’t you believe a word of it! At that moment I shall be more alive than I am now.”
At the funeral of Lazarus, Jesus didn’t merely claim to be “the resurrection and the life,” he proved it. He walked to the tomb where his friend’s body had been for four days, and asked that the stone covering the entrance to the burial cave be removed. “Then Jesus looked up and said, ‘Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.’ When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, ‘Take off the grave clothes and let him go’” (john 11:41–44).
Jesus said, “I am the vine”
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing” (john 15:5).
My wife and I once toured several vineyards in northern Michigan. We visited Chateau Grand Traverse, Chateau Chantal, Bowers Harbor Vineyards, and others. The common feature at each vineyard was row after row of lush vines that were loaded with grapes.
Vineyards were also a common feature in Israel during the time of Jesus. In fact, they were so important to Israel’s life and culture that in the Old Testament the Lord called Israel his vineyard:
The vineyard of the Lord Almighty is the nation of Israel,
and the people of Judah are the vines he delighted in. (isaiah 5:7)
In Jesus’s “I am” statement in John 15, he picks up this imagery with one important twist: He declares that he is the one true vine and that only those branches connected to him will produce fruit. This is a radical departure from Israel’s past. Previously, one became a faithful Jew by being circumcised and by committing to follow God’s law. Now Jesus claims that God’s true chosen people are those who believe in Jesus and who remain connected to him. Of course, it includes those within ethnic Israel who follow Jesus, but it also opens the door to everyone else.
Jesus promises that those who “remain” in him will “bear much fruit.” What kind of fruit does he have in mind? He clarifies this later in the chapter when he explains, “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (15:12–13). In other words, Jesus doesn’t measure someone’s life by how much money they accumulate, how high they climb the corporate ladder, or how famous or powerful they become. A life of sacrificial love for others is the clearest evidence that we really believe in Jesus and follow him. By his life and death, he showed us how to live. His love for us fuels our love for others.
This is significant. Throughout history, some so-called followers of Jesus have committed atrocities in his name, such as the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, the Salem witch trials, supported slavery and segregation and even supported torture. Yet such behavior is the exact opposite of what Jesus describes in this passage. Those who truly believe in him will be known by their love of others. In fact, we will follow Jesus’s own example of sacrificial service.
Most of us will not literally die for others the way Jesus did, but the author of the Gospel of John explains, “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth” (1 john 3:16–18).
Those who focus on the negative aspects of Christian history overlook the fact that followers of Jesus have protected the most vulnerable among us, founded countless hospitals and orphanages, created ministries of charity and compassion, worked to abolish slavery, and were at the forefront of child-labor laws.
Jesus also adds, “Apart from me you can do nothing” (15:5). As we watch the news each day, we can’t help but be alarmed at the state of the world. We see reports of violence in the streets, terrorists who target innocent victims, corrupt dictators who abuse human rights and deprive their people of humanitarian aid. Such tragedies are nothing new in human history.
While there are complex explanations for these global crises, there is one primary explanation. People who rebel against their Creator cannot live the kind of life he desires, because they are cut off from the Source of life and love. Jesus both assures us and warns us: “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
Jesus said, “I am the way and the truth and the life”
“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (john 14:6).
Christians are often criticized for claiming that Jesus is the only way to God. After all, there are billions of non-Christians in the world. Are we really so narrow minded and bigoted that we think these people will be excluded from heaven just because they happened to be born in the wrong country or have been taught the wrong religion?
Rabbi Schmuley Boteach summed up the feelings of many when he said, “I am absolutely against any religion that says that one faith is superior to another. I don’t see how that is anything different than spiritual racism. It’s a way of saying that we are closer to God than you, and that’s what leads to hatred.”
Those who make such objections have a point. If Jesus is merely one more religious teacher out of countless others, then his claim would be absurd. How can one person have a monopoly on the truth or proclaim his “way” as the only way to God? After all, humans are finite and fallible, while God is infinitely greater than our small minds can comprehend.
But if Jesus is, in fact, God himself, that puts his claim in an entirely different light. An infinite being has the ability to say with certainty whether there is one God or many, and whether there are multiple ways to know him or only one. Jesus doesn’t say that he merely speaks the truth; he claims to be the embodiment of Truth. He doesn’t say he can give life; he tells us he is the source of Life itself. And he doesn’t say he is one pathway to God among many; he asserts he is the only Way.
Earlier in John’s gospel, Jesus made this claim to the Jewish people who came to hear him. They were some of the most religious people on earth. They worshiped the God revealed in the same Bible that Jesus read, and they were passionate about obeying his commands. Yet Jesus told them, “You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life” (john 5:39–40). Later, he told the same audience: “If you do not believe that I am he, you will indeed die in your sins” (john 8:24).
Consider this somewhat imperfect analogy: The movie Braveheart described the exploits of William Wallace as he led the Scottish people in rebellion against Edward Longshanks, the king of England. As Wallace’s victories became more numerous, his reputation grew exponentially. Then one day he came to lead some Scottish warriors into battle who had never met him.
He announced to the soldiers, “Sons of Scotland! I am William Wallace.” But one incredulous warrior exclaimed, “William Wallace is seven feet tall!” “Yes, I’ve heard,” Wallace replied. “Kills men by the hundreds. And if he were here, he’d consume the English with fireballs from his eyes, and bolts of lightning” (laughter from the soldiers). “I am William Wallace! And I see a whole army of my country men, here, in defiance of tyranny. . . Will you fight?”
Suppose they had replied, “We will not follow or fight for you. We will wait for the real William Wallace to appear.” Do you grasp the absurdity of that situation? There was no other William Wallace. And if they didn’t follow him, then their wait for another would be delusional.
In a similar way, the people of Israel had read about God in their scriptures, but now he had shown up in person. It was ludicrous to think that they could reject him and still claim to follow the God they had only read about.
On the same evening when Jesus made the claim, “No one comes to the Father except through me,” he added, “If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him” (14:6–7).
One of his disciples named Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” Jesus answered: “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?” (vv. 8–9).
Jesus was not displaying arrogance nor was he trying to foster “spiritual racism.” He simply stated the truth. There is only one God, and he became a man in the person of Jesus. As Jesus walked this earth, he showed us what he is really like and gave us the opportunity to truly know him. We can wait for another to show up who is seven feet tall and has fireballs in his eyes, but there is no other. Jesus tells us plainly, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
So what?
What are we to do with Jesus’s claims about himself? Do we even need to decide?
Jesus declared, “Whoever is not with me is against me” (matthew 12:30). In other words, neutrality is impossible. This simple fact confronted a man named Sheldon Vanauken after he had carried on a lengthy correspondence about Christianity with the great Oxford professor C. S. Lewis.
In a book entitled A Severe Mercy, Vanauken wrote that he came to the chilling realization that he “could not go back”:
I had regarded Christianity as a sort of fairy tale; and I had neither accepted not rejected Jesus, since I had never, in fact, encountered him. Now I had. The position was not, as I had been comfortably thinking all these months, merely a question of whether I was to accept the Messiah or not. It was a question of whether I was to accept Him—or reject. My God! There was a gap behind me, too. Perhaps the leap to acceptance was a horrifying gamble—but what of the leap to rejection? There might be no certainty that Christ was God—but, by God, there was no certainty that He was not. . . . If I were to reject, I would certainly face the haunting, terrible thought: ‘Perhaps it’s true—and I have rejected my God!’ This was not to be borne. I could not reject Jesus.
Vanauken decided that there was only one thing he could do: “I turned away and flung myself over the gap towards Jesus.” He wrote in his journal, “I choose to believe in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—in Christ, my lord and my God. Christianity has the ring, the feel, of unique truth. Of essential truth. By it, life is made full instead of empty, meaningful instead of meaningless.”
The same decision faces each of us. Jesus challenges us with his claim that he is God in human form, the Savior of the world, and the source of life—both now and forever. How will we respond to him?
