The Promising Christ
Scripture Reading: John 13:31–14:31
Meditation
On the eve of his betrayal, Jesus knew that everything was about to change. In a matter of hours, one disciple—Judas—would betray him. Another—Peter—would deny him. All the others would scatter, flee, and disown him.
Soon, the only words he would hear would be those of accusing officials, denouncing religious leaders, scoffing crowds, mocking soldiers, and insulting robbers. His family wouldn’t speak. His disciples would hold their tongues. Even his Father would remain silent.
And so on the last evening that he is with his disciples—the ones that he loved and who loved him—there is urgency in every sentence he speaks. There is significance in every syllable and insistence in every intonation. He needs to speak to them and they need to hear what he has to say because all of their hearts are troubled.
“My children, I will be with you only a little longer. You will look for me, and just as I told the Jews, so I tell you now: Where I am going, you cannot come…
Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.”
In a few days, their worlds are going to be different. His disciples will know only promise. Jesus will revel in fulfillment. They will live in the reality of the everyday; he will dwell in and reign in eternity. They will be fighting off the gates of hell while he will have gone through hell and passed through the gates of heaven.
Though their worlds are going to be different, Jesus promises that he’ll always be with them, but in a different way. He might be visibly hidden from their sight but he’ll be invisibly present. Always. Never leaving. They won’t be able to see him, touch him, or walk and talk with him like they once did.
Yet he’ll still be there.
Though he’s going on ahead, he’s not going to leave them behind.
“I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.”
He’s not going to leave them alone. He won’t leave them unprotected, without support, as orphans. He’s going on ahead because, as the carpenter’s son, he has something to build. A house prepared for them!
As long as the disciples live on the earth, their lives and their homes will only be those of promise: dwellings of the now and the not yet, abodes of anticipation. But Jesus assures his disciples that, after he rises from the dead, he will be busy building, preparing, and constructing homes of heavenly fulfillment for them.
But between the promise and the fulfillment, the dreaming and the coming true, the blueprints and the housewarming, is a construction period—a time of the troubled heart.
In the in-between years, the heart yearns, longs, and wonders when real life—eternal life—will begin. In the in-between years, the spirit dreams, hopes, and prays for wholeness. Those in the in-between years know that there is something more, something unfinished, and something yet to be.
Between the promise and the fulfillment are the years when the heart is troubled. The longer the heart waits, the wearier it becomes. Jesus knows that as the heart grows weary, the memory of the promise and the Person who gave it tends to fade. And so, before he goes to the cross, Jesus promises his disciples a comforter, the Counselor.
“All this I have spoken while still with you. But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
On the eve of Jesus’ betrayal, every word is punctuated with a promise. He promises his presence. He promises the Counselor. He promises a heavenly home.
The promises are the eternal blueprints. They’re the two-dimensional renderings of a multi-dimensional reality. They only foreshadow what the house is going to look like. Fulfillment is the finished product. It’s the day the Promising Christ comes to his own, takes them to his Father’s house and says …
“Welcome home!”
Prayer
Father,
The closer your Son moved toward the cross, the more intimate his conversation with his disciples became.
His final words weren’t flippant or trite. Everything he said was measured. It was meaningful and meant to memorialize his love. Every word was punctuated with a promise: his presence, a place with many rooms, and the coming of the Counselor. This Counselor was the one who would point to, teach, and remind the disciples about your Son.
During this day, when my heart is troubled, may the Promising Christ give me his peace. I need the peace that surpasses human understanding: a peace that is beyond this world, apart from human striving, and which rests solely in the promises of your Son, Jesus the Christ.
In the name of the Promising Christ I pray. Amen
Reflection
Into what area of your life do you need the Promising Christ to say, “Do not let your hearts be troubled”?
What comfort is there in knowing that the carpenter’s son is preparing a place for you?
What promises of Christ bring you peace—peace unlike the world could ever give?
How has the Counselor—the Holy Spirit—taught you all things and reminded you of the promises and presence of Christ?
All Scripture references in the meditation are marked by italics and are taken from the Gospel reading for the day (John 13:31–14:31). Those verses quoted outside of the chosen reading for the day are noted in parenthesis. All Scripture quoted on this site is taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
