New Thoughts (02/19/12-02/25/12)
Before I get into the passage itself, there is this matter of two Philips that I need to resolve at least to my satisfaction. That there are two is clear enough. We know of Philip the Apostle, primarily from John’s account, and we know of Philip the Deacon, also known as Philip the Evangelist from Luke’s account of the first years of the Church. The real question would seem to be which of those Philips we are looking at in Acts 8. I had rather assumed that this would clearly be the Apostle Philip, this being the Acts of the Apostles, and all. But, then, we also have the stoning of Stephen, another of the first Deacons of the Church.
What raises this question for my consideration is the fact that the two encyclopedias I happened to reference in regard to Philip’s background both attribute all of these activities to Philip the Deacon rather than Philip the Apostle. Neither chooses to indicate on what basis that determination is made, although I did come across some comment as to there having been debate as to which was to be understood at some period of Church history. Fine. So, the question I first need to ascertain the answer to is whether anything in Acts 8 would force one to take the view that this is the deacon.
Well, let’s look at the immediate sequence of events we have in that account. Back in Acts 6:5, we read of those seven who were appointed as the first deacons of the church, of which Stephen gets primary position, and also the added accolade of being a man full of faith and Holy Spirit. This is rather a natural reaction, I should think, to his having become one of the first martyrs of the faith. But, Philip is immediately after Stephen on the list. Followed by the other five, about whom it seems we hear little beyond their appointment. From this, Luke moves on to the account of Stephen’s martyrdom, noting both his powerful preaching, of which we are given a lengthy example in Acts 7, and his performing of signs and wonders (Ac 6:8). Acts 8 opens with a note about Saul’s participation in Stephen’s death, and about the general persecution of the church that accelerated in that time, leading many (Ac 8:4), to be scattered out from Jerusalem’s dangers, who were preaching as they went.
It is on this note that the action switches to Philip. What we are told is that Philip (whichever one we have in mind) went to Samaria first, preaching to amazing effect. This episode closes with the comment that “When the apostles in Jerusalem heard about it they sent Peter and John to come pray for them to receive the Holy Spirit” (Ac 8:14-15). If there is anything to suggest that the Philip we have in view here is the deacon, it would seem to be this comment that the Apostles sent from their own number to support and confirm his efforts. That Luke does not say the ‘other’ apostles is a point in favor of this view. But, he does qualify it. He says, ‘the apostles in Jerusalem’. It’s certainly possible he meant nothing more by this than that the Apostles had not been chased from that city by the persecutions. On the other hand, he could as easily mean to indicate a particular set of those eleven men who had remained, whereas others might well have gone out from Jerusalem already.
One thing that seems pretty clear is that Peter and John were ranked highly in the nascent structure of the Church, together with James. It is also clear that in these earliest days Peter and John had become something of a team, often if not constantly together in ministry. Given the contrast we have between the prominence of these two even during the years covered by the Gospel, and the relative obscurity of Philip in that same period, it is not necessarily unreasonable to suppose they might have gone out in support of a fellow Apostle, as easily as they would go on behalf of a deacon. The cause of their journey was that the Holy Spirit had not yet fallen upon these Samaritan converts, for which these two particularly prayed.
If we presume some sort of Apostolic mandate that requires that line of accession from the Apostle in order to impart this gift of the Holy Spirit, then that would certainly suggest that the Philip who preached was not an apostle. But, on what basis is any such mandate formulated? If, on the other hand, this happened to be a particular concern for these two Apostles, more so than the others, they might choose to follow up even on another Apostle’s efforts, and we needn’t suppose that other Apostle would find it offensive. Why should he? It’s not about him. It’s about God’s kingdom moving forward. If Peter and John felt it critical that those entering the kingdom have this gift, so be it. Philip’s specialty may just have fallen into a different area of work.
While hardly a conclusive argument, the one thing I find arguing against this Philip of chapter 8 being the deacon, is that when Luke returns to that man later in the book, he is very specific about which Philip he means (Ac 21:8-9). Here, he is identified specifically as Philip the Evangelist, one of the seven. That one of the seven does seem to point us back through the chapters to that early appointment of the first deacons. And, there is certainly some bit of coincidence in that the account of Chapter 8 leaves Philip in Caesaria, which is where we encounter this later evangelist.
So consider the general flow of events we have in Acts, in terms of who is center stage. We have Peter and John as early focal points. We come to Chapter 6, and hear of the issue leading to the appointment of those seven deacons, and learn of Stephen’s martyrdom, largely by way of introducing Saul into the picture. We have that brief account of Philip, and then we come to Saul’s Damascus encounter, after which things focus almost exclusively on Paul’s story.
Is there a progression here that might suggest one Philip over the other? That we have this note regarding Stephen’s martyrdom is certainly suited to the progression from those first prominent Apostles to the rise of Paul. He introduces Paul into the picture, and is also worthy of honor given his death. And, assuredly, Philip is shown next in the rank of those deacons, so if we were considering how those appointments were confirmed by outcomes, it would make sense to see Philip’s story told next. But, it would also make sense to find at least some cursory mention of Prochorus, Nicanor, and the rest, if this were the purpose in Luke’s setting forth of events.
It does not seem that this is the case, however. It seems that he is more intent on showing the general development and progress of the Church. From that perspective, we might view Stephen’s story as showing the growth of the Church in Jerusalem, and Philip’s as showing its first steps outside of Judea, both in the person of the Ethiopian eunuch (who was, after all, in the city to worship God), and in the active preaching in Samaria. Then, we move to Paul’s story, which takes the Church empire-wide. Does this support one Philip over the other?
In short, I am seeing nothing in this account that would require one to suppose either man. It could be the apostle. It could be the deacon. It might be best to see if there’s anything written by the early fathers of the church that might clarify… Iranaeus, in his Against Heresies, takes up the question of Apostolic teaching on the person and godhead of Jesus in Chapter 12 of Book 3 of that work. Here, he lists Philip in the immediate company of Peter and Paul. He raises the case of the Ethiopian eunuch, which would certainly suggest that he counted that Philip as being the apostle. Later, in Book 4, Chapter 23, he again raises this matter of Philip’s encounter with the eunuch as an example of the Apostles building upon the work of the Patriarchs and Prophets.
Tertullian, in On Baptism, speaks of Philip’s baptism of the eunuch in Chapter 18. That chapter is introduced by a point concerning those “whose office it is” to administer the sacrament of baptism. However, this is preceded by a description of those bearing the power of this particular office in Chapter 17. Therein, Tertullian advises that the power rests first with the bishop of the church, but also on such presbyters and deacons as he should authorize. So, it would seem there is nothing conclusive to be said from this material.
There is another text from Hippolytus which describes the seventy Apostles. Here Philip is listed between Stephen and Prochorus, which would certainly seem to speak of him as one of the seven deacons, and this specifically assigns to him the baptism of the eunuch. In a separate place, he speaks of the Apostle Philip, noting that he preached in Phrygia, and was crucified in the time of Domitian. Novatian also appears to count the baptizing Philip as being the deacon. Let it rest as settled, then, or sufficiently so as to deserve no further attention at this time.
Here, in John’s Gospel, there is no question as to which Philip we are observing, and what we observe of him makes a fitting segue from Thomas. Thomas expresses his doubts about what Jesus had just said (Jn 14:5), noting the improbability that they could know how to get to an unknown destination. Philip is responding in turn to the response Jesus gave to Thomas. You say that as of now we’ve seen the Father, well, then, show Him to us, Jesus! If this is the moment, make it so. At a most basic level, and in keeping with one of John’s motifs in this Gospel, this demonstrates a complete missing of the point. But, then, we would have fared no better had we been there, honestly.
More intriguing is a certain degree of connection one finds between Philip’s desire to see the Father, and other moments in Scripture. One clear connection is to Moses, who being alone on the mountain with God requested of Him personally, “Please, Lord, show me Your glory” (Ex 33:18)! I have to say that my immediate reaction to that event is that Moses was certainly being presumptuous, and just as certainly overestimating his own purity. After all, we have it of long standing that no man can see God and live, for no man has the purity of soul to survive it. I was brought back, this morning, to the events Isaiah describes in Isaiah 6, where he is brought before God, and his immediate reaction is nearer despair than ecstasy. This was a man who knew his condition! Moses, if seen in this light, did not.
But, one must bear in mind a long established and very close relationship between Moses and God. They have been together for many a year, and God even speaks of Moses as the one to whom He speaks face to face. That is a rather singular privilege in the history of fallen man. In other words, we might do better to consider that Moses was not presenting a gross overestimate of himself, but rather a great desire and longing to bring that relationship he already enjoyed even closer, deeper. Philip, it seems to me, would be hard pressed to claim that same degree if intimacy with the Father. Perhaps, he might be able to make a case for such close relationship to Jesus, but his actions both here, and on that later occasion with the Gentiles seeking Jesus suggest no such intimacy. An intimate of Jesus, one might presume, would not find it needful to seek out another as to how they ought best to proceed, would not feel a need to be able to appeal to another’s authority in coming to Jesus.
But, we do have this connection of sentiment, “Show me Your glory!” “Show us the Father.” It is one and the same request, and it may actually share a certain amount of the same motivations, both the desire to be nearer to God, and the assurance that accrues from such a sight. That is certainly an aspect of what Philip is driving at here. He needs something real, something visceral, that he can hang his faith upon. As Jesus replies to him, and to the others, there has already been such visceral proofs in abundance. If, then, they cannot take His word for it on this final point, they should still be able to accept it based on His record.
But, Fausset adds another dimension to this whole thing, which is the connection between Philip seeking to be brought before the Father by Jesus, and those Gentiles who came to him later seeking to be brought before Jesus. “We want to see Jesus.” “I want to see the Father.” Again, there is a certain equivalence of sentiment there. There is a similar need for assurance, for the hard facts of real, physical data to bolster the faith within.
Were we to place Philip in the trappings of American tradition, I suppose we would have to make him a citizen of Missouri, the “show me” state. It’s all well and good, this stuff you’re talking up, but show me. Give me some proof. Bring on the scientific evidence for what you’re espousing. All this spiritual stuff is nice, but how are we supposed to test it? This really is not so very different from what we find in Thomas in that last encounter, where he has felt the need for physical contact with this risen Jesus before he can begin to believe there is any such risen Jesus. Visions aren’t going to cut it. Second hand reports certainly aren’t going to cut it. Such a bold statement requires solid backing. That’s the sense of it.
This is, of course, reflective at least in part of the Greek influence so prevalent in the northern regions of Israel at the time, and not all that much less prevalent even in Jerusalem. Reason and logic rule the day. We are all rational men, now, and if God would be accepted, He shall have to approach us with most rational and logical proofs of His existence. This, needless to say, is very much the state of the world we live in today. If God cannot be proved by scientific experimentation, then a great swath of the public will hold that he must be discounted as fable. It matters not that this reflects another gross overestimation of the capacity of man. It matters not that the experiments reject all that might be construed as evidence for God a priori. No proof, no God. That’s the end of it.
Is this part of what’s happening amongst the Apostles at this stage? After all, belief is getting harder and harder the nearer they come to the end. The things Jesus is teaching are becoming more and more difficult to take, even if they are understood. All this talk of death and resurrection… I mean, it’s fine in theory, and it certainly feels good to have that in our mental pocket as we draw nearer the grave. But, He’s talking about it as a very real, very immediate thing, and that’s a whole lot harder to swallow. Even with Lazarus standing there, it’s hard to really believe. The mind casts about for alternative explanations. Because the reality, if He’s right, is just too far beyond our experience.
Jesus responds with a certain note of incredulity. We’ve been together three years, Philip, and you still don’t really know Me? In this case, I am inclined to take that particular sense of knowing that Vine brings out, that this is a matter not only of knowing the material, but also recognizing its value and importance. Do you still not realize the significance if Me? Do you not value Me? In another sense, we are looking at experiential knowledge. Philip has been with Jesus pretty much from the first moments of His ministry. Of all the Twelve, he has had the longest association with Jesus. He has had the greatest possible benefit of experience in establishing what he knows about Jesus, about Messiah. He has been there with the others, hearing Peter say, “You are the Son of God,” and he nodded at the observation, rejoiced at the confirmation Jesus gave to this truth. “And still, you don’t really know Me?” Still he doesn’t grasp the full significance of what he knows. None of them do. Arguably, few of us, if any do.
But, notice the motion of Jesus’ words here. He moves from what Philip should surely have known based on past history with Jesus, to the belief that should result. Don’t you believe that I am in the Father and He in Me? In this case, the question is asked with the expectation of a positive response. We could append an ‘I know you do’ to it, for Jesus is not asking doubtfully here, but by way of reminding Philip of what he does know, getting him to think about what that knowledge implies. Of course, arriving at belief, we are very near to faith. In many ways, the two are synonymous terms. This, in turn, points to one of the realities of faith that lost on many: that faith is built upon evidence, not in spite of the total lack of evidence.
This is the progression that Jesus is establishing in these verses. You know Me. You have witnessed Me, seen My doings, heard My words, observed in Me an absolute consistency between what I teach and what I Myself do. They are one and the same. And this has led you to the belief to which that evidence points, that I am in the Father and He in Me. Nobody, as you easily recognize, could do even the half of what you have seen Me do, except the Father was with him. Really, you’ve even done some of these things yourselves. You’ve cast out demons. You’ve healed the sick. You know beyond any possible doubt that these were not powers you had inherently, but were things done with a very real experiencing of that abiding presence of the Father. You know these things, Philip! Yet, you’ve failed to take this last, very logical step.
So, we arrive at that which Jesus is quite sure His disciples already know and accept: that He and the Father are ‘in’ one another. But, in bringing out this point, He is really making clear what He had said just prior to this: “As of this moment, you know the Father and have seen Him.” Again, the NASB, along with many others, take that as being ‘from now on’, but it makes far more sense to see it in its more proper, ‘as of this moment’ meaning. As of this moment, you have seen Him. How? You’ve been seeing Him all along, because He who as seen Me has seen the Father! That’s the significance of them being in One Another. You cannot possibly see Jesus without seeing the Father, because, as He had said earlier, “I and the Father are One” (Jn 10:30). He’s made this point repeatedly. “He who observes Me observes the One who sent Me” (Jn 12:45).
The knowledge has been there. The understanding, on the other hand, takes a bit more prodding. Take what you know. Take what that knowledge has led you to believe. Now, take the implications. Follow the thought. Add two and two, and you must see what the meaning is: As of this moment, you are being given to understand what you have been witness to, God on earth, Father manifestly presented to your sight in His Son. Now you get it. But, there’s more! So much more! And, even though I explain it to you now, you still won’t really understand it until things have taken their course, until the great turmoil of the next few days has subsided, and you have that undeniable evidence before you by which to establish your faith more certainly.
Oh! How wonderful that our Savior does not leave us to trust in the unknown and unknowable! How wonderful that He Who created us as rational beings created us in His image, and having created a rational being, He does not then demand that we pursue an irrational course back to Him. No! The belief that He engenders in us is a belief based solidly on the evidence. It is based upon our own experience of Him. Oh, we may not have the advantage of a Thomas or a Philip, where we could reach out and touch Jesus, could sit around a campfire sharing dinner and discourse with Him. But our own experience of Him is no less real, no less immediate, no less confirming.
I look back on those few days during which God finally and fully got hold of me, and this is assuredly my story. I may not have experienced and encountered Him in some physical, or scientifically validated way. I don’t know too many scientists who would accept voices in the head as a valid premise for proof. But, the proof that followed was, at least to my satisfaction, of a logical, reasonable sort. As with algebra and geometry, there are those matters that one cannot prove directly, theorems that must be accepted. But, even these are accepted based upon a preponderance of proof by application. We accept, for example, the identity theorem because all of that body of mathematics which builds upon that theorem holds together with logical consistency. One doesn’t arrive at some equation that requires setting aside the identity theorem in order to obtain solution.
So, too, with sound theology. One doesn’t arrive at a theological Truth that must be set aside in order to attain to other aspects of theological Truth. No! Theology, if it is sound and accurate, will hold together with logical consistency. It will never insist that something is true except when. So it was with my first encounters with God. Two theorems offered, and three days of events that served satisfactorily to prove those theorems by evidence of their application. In the two decades or so since, I have yet to encounter anything that requires me to modify that view. Both still hold, although I admit to having great difficulty holding onto one of them in practice. What were those two? Well, first and foremost was, “Accept that I am God.” Second, and in my case critical to establishing the first, “there’s no such thing as coincidence.” It wasn’t until years later that I came to recognize that second theorem as a definition of Providence. And, yes, it is hard to look at the entire course of life and maintain that as one’s understanding.
But, it’s not hard due to the theorem being incorrect. It’s hard because there are so many times when we would just as soon accept events as being coincidental. It’s hard because we don’t always want to deal with the implications if that theorem is completely and absolutely True. Why, if there’s no such thing as coincidence, then nothing is coincidental, which can (probably should) lead one to suppose that everything is fraught with significance. Every least aspect of my day, from being down with a cold a week before a speaking engagement, to the time I woke up this morning, to whether I floss, none of it’s coincidence. The people who just happen to be at the grocery store when I drop in? No coincidence. The particular clerk manning the checkout? No coincidence.
Here’s the thing, though: If none of it’s coincidence, then all of it is important. All of it is orchestrated by the God Who Is, and He is not a frivolous or capricious God. If He has orchestrated it, it is for a reason. There is, perhaps something we are expected to be learning from events. There is, more likely, something we are supposed to be contributing to events. Every one of these coincidences of the day present us with another possibility that here is one of those good works that were prepared for me beforehand, in order that I might do them. But, it’s the rarest of occasions when we, at least when I actually view the events of the day in that way.
Returning to the text, and to the intended flow of these notes, there is, as I have said, a reasonable progression, from knowledge, to belief, to application. As of now, you have seen the Father. You were seeing Him all along, but you had only arrived at belief. Now, with this bit of explanation, belief can move to application. If I am in Him and He is in Me, then it necessarily follows that He who as seen Me has seen Him. And here’s the more marvelous thing (which will be coming up in further exploration of applying this Truth): The same will be said of you! It shall be that they who see you have seen Me, for it is just as true that you are in Me and I am in you (Jn 14:20). That’s may not have the eternal significance of knowing Father and Son are One God. But, on a personal level, it’s got more immediate application, doesn’t it?
It draws me back to that aspect of Aaron’s attire described in Exodus 28:36-38, which I know I’ve commented on before, and indeed, brought up as part of last week’s Sunday School lesson. I speak of that gold label that was hung upon the frontal of his headgear, that golden inscription of, “Holy to the Lord”. I still recall the first time I had cause to stop and consider that passage, and the idea that to wear such a label upon one’s head left one unable to do other than represent that Lord to whom one has been set apart.
This is, of course, our fundamental calling in life, to stand forth as God’s representatives, to live in a fashion that doesn’t leave us embarrassed at the thought of suggesting that to see us is to see Jesus. But, how few of us would willingly advise others in our church to do as they see us doing! Maybe we could come up with some aspects of our daily routine we think they would be well advised to adopt, certain moments in our day when perhaps we really reflect the ways of our Lord. But, there are vast swathes of the day that would hardly befit any such suggestion. Sadly, it seems we have come to accept that this is only normal, and not some terrible failure on our part. The reality is that if Paul could be so bold as to suggest such a course of action to his charges, “Do as you see me doing,” then surely we ought to be equally capable of suggesting that same course of action for those we know.
[02/23/12] Jesus, in describing His relationship with the Father, uses a phrasing which has certainly become familiar to us, given its frequency in these chapters of John. However, it is a familiarity that may not necessarily convey any real meaning, or at least not a precise meaning. I speak of this matter of being in each other. What exactly does He mean by saying He is in the Father and the Father is in Him? Clearly, it cannot mean that each is inside the other, for who then would remain outside? The Greek term translated here is en, which Zhodiates notes is what lies between a relationship of eis and a relationship of ek. All three concern motion or progress, eis describing motion toward or into, and ek motion away from or out of. En describes that state of rest that lies between, a state of remaining, thus being in. It can also, in the matter of personal relationships such as are described here, indicate a state of being before, in the presence of.
This definition would certainly suit the usage Jesus makes of the term. I and the Father are always in each other’s presence. Likewise, it would continue to suit for the relationship He assigns to His disciples, that they are likewise always in His presence, and He in theirs. “Wherever two or more of you are gathered…”
There is another sense of the word, however, that might also suit. It is a particular sense of en that brings to mind aspects of the words Gabriel spoke to Mary regarding this Son she would bear (Lk 1:26-37). It is not the same term that led to this consideration. However, the significance is similar. On that occasion, it seems to me it was either the upon of epi, or perhaps the overshadowing of episkiasei that brought the point to mind. But here in en there is a similar sense. Zhodiates notes it as being indicative of that by which one is surrounded or encompassed. Thayer considers it as that to which one is ‘inherently fixed, implanted, or with which [he] is intimately connected’.
This significance goes well beyond merely being in the presence of, although that reality certainly remains. I am ever in His presence. Think of David’s words, “Where can I go from Thy Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence?” (Ps 139:7). He proceeds to answer that there is no place, even the grave is no escape. The prim and proper part of my thinking chimes in with the question of how I could ever desire to make such an escape, but the realist part of me knows that I often seek to at least convince myself that I have. But, en forces me back to the reality. Admittedly, this reflections belongs more properly to the next section of this study. But, I’m here, and so is the thought, so I shall proceed.
I’m thinking forward to John 14:20 in this case. “In that day you shall know that I am in My Father, and you in Me, and I in you.” I would note that this does not in any way imply that the reality of that situation will not persist prior to ‘that day’, only that the full realization of it shall finally arrive. Indeed, we who have been called of the Father are in this very relationship with Father and Son every moment, consciously or not. Thus, this significance of en really bears consideration.
This is the question, the affirming question that Jesus asks Philip. You believe I am in Father and Father in Me, yes? Now, invest that ‘in’ with the full power of the term, (and I shall note that there is no verb whatsoever in that descriptive clause. There is no am.) I in the presence of Father, intimately connected to, implanted in, and inherently fixed in that state. The Father likewise in the presence of Me, intimately connected to, implanted in, and inherently fixed in that state. Even without benefit of a verb, the unchangeable constancy of that relationship comes through. Think of it! An unbreakable connection, fixed in this intimate relationship, directly in each other’s presence!
Applied to the immediate passage, this is the implication of, “If you’ve seen Me, you’ve seen the Father.” It would be impossible not to, for We are never apart. We surround each other, encompass each other. We are inherently fixed in this intimate connection. It is thus impossible, as I have said on many occasions, for Me to do or say anything other than what I see Him saying and doing. I might note that the opposite could be held to apply, too. It is impossible for these two Persons of the Trinity to disagree in any slightest detail.
Before I move on to the second half of verse 10, I really must explore how that reality ought to inform our existence when we bear in mind that Jesus declares to us that we share this same relationship with Him. The privilege inherent in that thought is overwhelming! I, this lowly man of exceedingly questionable virtues, am inherently fixed in intimate connection with Jesus! I am surrounded and encompassed by Him, and somehow, in ways unfathomable to me, He is likewise surrounded and encompassed by me, for the connection He establishes is bidirectional. This is in no way suggesting that I am His equal. Not by a long stretch! No, but His thoughts are ever on me, even as they are ever on each one of His adopted siblings.
But, it is the implication that I must needs drive home for myself. The implication of that intimate and fixed relationship, as it applied to Jesus, and which He stresses, is the impossibility, given that connection, that He could ever do otherwise than what the Father does. The implication for me ought to be the same. I ought to be so thoroughly and constantly aware of Jesus all around me, ought to be so deeply connected to His thoughts, that I could not even think otherwise than to pursue His course. I surely ought not to be able to take action on those personal whims of mine that are absolutely opposed to His views. And yet…
Paul faces this quandary dead on. The whole center of Romans looks squarely at this conundrum. My flesh at war with my spirit, and it seems the flesh keeps winning the skirmishes. What to do? Oh, thanks be to God, there is Jesus! He is here, hallelujah! And so, in Galatians 2:20, we find that most marvelous statement. “I have been crucified with Christ! It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me! This life of the flesh that I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me, Who delivered Himself up for me!” Oh! Such marvelous words! I live by faith in the Son who loved me. Nay, who loves me still and forever!
It shall doubtless continue to bewilder me to the end of my days how it can be that a perfectly holy God can tolerate the likes of me in His presence, let alone in this intimate relationship. And yet, His word to me is that He does. I live by faith in the Son who loves me! Even so, my heart today would like very much to be more consistently aware of His nearness, more conscious of His awareness of my every thought, even those thoughts creeping in just now, thoughts that have no place in the heavenly minded. Oh, this anguish of soul! Oh, for that day when all is complete and the weakness of this temporary housing left behind!
Yet, I shall cling to that great confidence Paul provides. What to do? “Thank You, God, for there is Jesus! He is all around me. He encompasses me. He loves me! And therein shall my soul find hope and rest, for I know I am ever in His presence, and I know (because He has said so) that I shall one day be even more immediately in His presence, and in that day I shall be made as He is, and thereby fit to be in such proximity!” Praise be to God! Who could imagine such a thing? And yet, this is my story.
Looking at the second half of verse 10, there is that curious construct that the NET, if I remember correctly, made note of, that Jesus speaks about His words, but ascribes them to the Father’s works. This is, indeed, a rather disconcerting progression of thought. But, it leads us to an interesting conclusion, does it not? My words are not My initiative, but Father’s works. It wouldn’t seem unreasonable to take that as making His initiative the result of Father’s works, leading to His words. This is in keeping with Paul’s observation to the church in Philippi. “It is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure” (Php 2:13).
This is the result that comes of relationship Jesus describes. We are en one another, and that intimacy of connection goes so far as to give our Lord entrance to our thoughts; not only entrance, but directorship over our thoughts. We are not automatons in this, which is why I would not consider Jesus as removing His own initiative entirely from the process in what He says here. It’s not Father’s works directly to Jesus’ words. It’s Father’s works guiding, shepherding Jesus’ initiative so that He can willingly do what suits in pursuing Father’s good pleasure, which leads to speaking those words He has been given to speak. It is not that the will of Christ is overridden by the will of the Father. The will of Christ is to be wholly in accord with the will of the Father, so the guidance provided by the Father is most thoroughly appreciated and solicited.
This is our condition as well. As Jesus says later, we are in Him, and He in us. We have this same relationship to define our days as He has with the Father. Or, at least we have the potential. It is possible for us to be as submitted to and desirous of His will as He was submitted to and desirous of doing precisely as our Father desired. The degree to which His choice was to submit His will to the Father’s is caught in some of the more relaxed translations. I particularly liked the way the God’s Word translation phrased this. “The Father, who lives in me, does what he wants.” The Message doesn’t do too bad a job either. “The Father who resides in me crafts each word into a divine act.” I might quibble with that last conclusion a bit. He doesn’t need to transform Jesus’ words ‘into a divine act’, for the whole thrust of the thing is that His words begin as ‘a divine act’.
That’s the whole point here! Jesus is in rare rhetorical form in these few verses. He is building an airtight case for faith. You have been with Me. You have seen. You’ve been privy to a constant and consistent stream of evidence. You’ve known Me as no others could. In Me, you have seen the Father you ask after. In spite of what you’ve seen and learned, you’re still not seeing the implications, so I’m telling them to you flat out. When I say we are One, I mean it! Every lesson I’ve taught you has come from Him directly. You’ve experienced it in some degree when I sent you out. You know what I’m talking about! Don’t you see where that leads, what that implies?
Now, my Charismatic background causes me to take notice of the fact that these words Jesus speaks of are not logos words, but rhema words. All the prophetically inclined suddenly perk their ears. Ooh! Rhema word! It’s the message specific to the moment! It’s that thing the Holy Spirit is bringing to mind at just the right time. Perhaps. On the other hand, perhaps we’re over spiritualizing the whole thing.
The more basic distinction between rhema and logos, as Vine points out is that logos concerns itself more with the whole body of what has been said, the full expression of thought. Rhema, on the other hand, concerns a specific point made within that body. How that should be taken in this case is of some interest. Is Jesus referring to the whole body of His teaching ministry? Probably not. That would seem more naturally expressed by logos. Is He filtering down to only those particular lessons that had been imparted to the Twelve alone? Perhaps. Although, even that is a pretty large body of teaching, and would still seem more aptly spoken of as logos. It strikes me that Jesus is being quite specific in this case, and seeks to indicate exactly that point which has been under discussion, that they have seen the Father, that they know Him ‘as of this moment’, that they have seen Him because they have observed Jesus, and most critically, that He and the Father are mutually intertwined, One.
It is the challenge of accepting all the implications of that statement that lead Jesus to go to such lengths in establishing His trustworthiness on the matter. Look at what he is saying in verse 11. Believe Me! You have got to lay hold of this point that Father and I are that intimate, that united, that inseparable. You’re going to really need this point established in your understanding if you’re to weather the next few days. If My word’s not enough for you, if you need something more than that, then look back upon the works you have been witness to, and let them serve as a foundation for trusting what I’m telling you now.
In spite of all the warnings, the foreshadowing statements, the disciples still do not appear to be fully aware of what’s coming. They still cannot wrap their minds around the possibility that Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God for crying out loud, could be killed off. The idea that this One, this Victorious Hero of Israel, would allow Himself to be defeated and destroyed is simply unthinkable. If that’s how it is, then Judas isn’t the only one who’s likely to give up on Him. Who wants to back a loser? Life is hard enough without that dogging one’s reputation on into the future.
You need to get this firmly planted! Whatever it looks like. Whatever you think you know is happening, the Truth remains: I and the Father are in each other, surrounding each other, inseparably connected by the most intimate of relationships. Even in that which must be, I am doing His will. Even in that which must be, He is doing My will. We are One. Don’t lose sight of that. Don’t let it slip from your understanding. For, as We are One, so you are one with Us. No, you are not suddenly part of the Godhead. Don’t get carried away! Leave it to the Sadducees and Pharisees to be so drunk on thoughts of power. Yet, you are so deeply connected with Us/Me that I/We shall ever be there, providing the counsel, imparting the power.
I mean, look where this goes in the next verse! It’s a favorite of the Charismatic crowd: “The works I do, you shall do also, and even greater things than I have done!” (Jn 14:12). And notice, this comes with an ‘amen, amen’ introduction. They’re being alerted. It’s like the preacher who suddenly shouts the church to attention after a period of quiet preaching. Listen up! This is the deal! If you remember one thing out of what I’m saying, this is the thing it should be! And, of course, the promises build from there, as I shall be looking at next week, I expect.
Having spoken of that odd jump from words to works, the NET offers this explanation: that “works have greater confirmatory power than words.” This, it is suggested, is why Jesus speaks not of His source as being the Father’s words, but His works. Maybe so. It seems more likely to me that what Jesus is stressing here is that words are works. It’s not just the flashy stuff, the miracles and wonders that are accounted as works of God. Words do have power. They do not, as some like to propound these days, have such power as to alter reality or shape the future. The things that are said in a room do not embed themselves in the paint, lurking there for the opportunity to build up and bust out to the dismay of whoever inhabits that room when the time comes. That’s junk!
But, words do have power when they’re God’s words. He truly did speak the world into existence. We, even with all that is said in the following verses, do not ascend to such heights. Our words will never suffice to establish the smallest corner of reality, nor to tear even one atom from what God has created. Yet, we know we have creative tendencies, which should hardly surprise us, being as we’re created in His image. Our words are a part of that. We can create an atmosphere, and we do create a reputation, for good or for ill.
I think about what James writes. “From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. It shouldn’t be this way, brothers” (Jas 3:10). What are the implications? From the same mouth come words that find their source in God, and words that find their source in the Devil. You can try and dress it up, but that’s what it devolves to. Fold that together with this connection Jesus has established, that words are works. You are alternately doing the work of God and the work of the Devil. Well, James, put it that way and it’s undeniably true! These things ought not to be.
Yet, is there one among us who could say honestly that we have arrived at the place where we no longer do what ought not to be done? James himself removes the possibility. “NO one can tame the tongue” (Jas 3:8). Now, in this, James necessarily makes himself complicit. There are no exceptions to the rule, any more than we can find a loophole in “all men have sinned”. All is all. There’s nobody excluded.
Words are works. Perhaps we can do better at this business of submitting our tongue to God if we will view our words as things less vaporous than they appear. Perhaps if we considered that every single syllable we utter was being recorded indelibly, on media that will not fade or become obsolete, then we might take more care to shape our speaking, and our thinking which hopefully precedes speaking, to reflect the One whose works we would prefer to be doing. Or, perhaps they already reflect that, it’s just that we often prefer to be doing the works of the wrong one.
It is a sad bit of a diversion I seem to have taken here, for the judgment of Scripture seems clearly to arrive at the same conclusions as do I. The problem is not that our tongues misrepresent our desires, but rather that they represent our desires all too accurately. It’s not the tongue that needs taming then, it’s that which motivates the tongue. It’s the heart. It’s the character. It’s the soul of the man that is in need of training and shaping and pretty much a full remodeling. Thanks be to God, He’s got years of experience in the remodeling business!
Before leaving off this particular study, I would like to think just a bit further on the doctrinal points established in this passage. We’ve already been considering them, to be honest. But, I should like to dwell just a bit longer on those points, and in particular, on the implication of those points as they might apply to daily life as a Christian. Let us say that I should like to see how these words might shape my works.
I listed three points back in the beginning of considering this passage, but in effect they are the same point stated from different perspectives. We have the immediate statement of Jesus that He is the manifest image of the Father. That is contained in the comment, “who has seen Me has seen Him.” That’s what it means. In explaining the implications of this fact, Jesus establishes another, that He and the Father are One. This is not something He says directly on this occasion, but it is contained in that point about they each being in the other. They are inseparable. The implication we must take from that point in its turn is that where one is, the other must necessarily be as well. The third point I have taken notes the subordination of Son to Father. I admit that I probably read more into that point, given what I claimed for doctrinal relevance, than the point itself will bear. Father and Son are coequal, however, whether one could look at this mutual in-ness as supporting that point is questionable.
Take those three points, though: The Son inseparably together with the Father, the Son so integrated with the Father as to be His manifest image, the Son willingly, voluntarily subordinating Himself to the Father (though His equal). Consider that one facet of the mission Jesus came to fulfill on the earth was that of setting before us the perfect model for our own relationship to God. As the ultimate Man, the last Adam, He took federal responsibility for us. That responsibility, to be sure, is primarily a function of fulfilling the Law on our behalf as Adam forsook the Law as the representative of us all. However, there is the secondary feature, the modeling of what it means to be a true Man. Jesus is, after all, the Teacher. These who are called His disciples are called this because they have taken His example as the model upon which to fashion their own lives. This is right and proper, and is, indeed, the call set upon all who are called by His name.
To be a Christian: What is that, if not to be seeking to become more and more Christ-like with every passing day? We need no Messiah complex to seek such a lofty goal. We need only that cherished knowledge of our Lord, of Who He is and what His character is like, and we cannot help but be drawn to desire that same character in our own case. He is the ultimate hero, even if He bears little resemblance to those heroes that the culture likes to send out for our consideration. Well, then, consider: How did Jesus do it? It would be an absolute copout to simply say, well, He is God. It’s easy for Him! Hardly! Spend some time in contemplation of this final week of His earthly life and tell me how easy that was. No, He was every whit a man such as ourselves. He experienced life just as you or I experience it. The pain remained real. The deprivations and hardships were just as trying. The sorrows produced real tears. Hunger still twisted the stomach for Him as it would for us.
The thing that distinguished His experience was not so immediately the fact of His being God, for as Paul reminds us, all the privileges of that very true reality were very truly set aside for this mission, left at home. But, even with that, He was inseparable from the Father, and He was willingly subordinated to the Father. These twin factors empowered Him to walk as the manifest image of the Father.
Listen! Jesus could not have remained willingly subordinated had He not maintained that inseparable relationship. This is what it takes. I need to bring this down to the personal application now. I cannot ever hope to fulfill the mandate to be the manifest image of Jesus unless I pursue it in the same fashion He pursued His mission. Step one: Be inseparable. Now, there is that sense in which this might be viewed as applying uniquely to the Trinity, but it doesn’t, really. Jesus says so Himself. “You are in Me, and I in you” (Jn 14:20). That’s the thing He builds upon the foundation He’s set out here. We already have that inseparable relationship. But, it’s a thing that we need to maintain, I need to maintain.
Understand that it will be true whether I do my part or not, for Truth is not subject to my whims. He is ever with me, and I am ever with Him. But, I know all too well how swiftly I can forget that this is my reality, or ignore it, or just plain blind myself to it. No. I want to sin just now, so Jesus, turn Your back. Of course, I know He won’t, so instead I must work upon my own thinking to convince myself I am safely hidden from His sight. It’s still a blatant falsehood, but I am willingly conned by myself. And in conning myself, I have failed to maintain that inseparable relationship.
See, Jesus didn’t just accept the reality of having that sort of connection with the Father. He did everything in His power to keep Himself actively mindful of it. He took steps to ensure that awareness of the nearness of the Father to Him was ever and always at the forefront of His mind. That’s what lies behind those Old Testament admonitions about keeping Scriptures posted all over the place, so you can’t help but be looking at them throughout the day. Write them on your doorposts, so you’ll be reminded every time you go through the door. Bind them on your wrists, so that whenever you happen to look at your own hands, there will be that reminder, “I am here. I am with you.” It’s not about marking yourself out as God’s special project, so everybody can be impressed by your piety. It’s about the fact that we’re so forgetful.
And, this is something far too important to forget! We need that constant reminding of the nearness of our Beloved. We need that constant reminding that we aren’t in this alone. We need that constant reminding that we aren’t getting away with it. It’s not just so we’ll have that recognition that Big Brother is watching. That’s true, but if it enters our thinking at all, it should be as a comfort. For, He is not just watching. He is walking with us. He is with us every step of the way. And, He is rooting for us. Indeed, He is waiting on us to call out to Him, to bring Him actively into the picture.
Don’t you dare take this as me saying that you can order Jesus around! Not on your life! Not on mine! Far be it from me to even hint at such a thing. My point is that if we accept His word that we are in Him and He in us, then it must necessarily be that wherever we are, whatever we are doing, He must necessarily be there. It is every bit as inevitable in our relationship as in that which He holds with the Father, with the Spirit. Inseparable; necessarily together in every moment and every event. It is the awareness that is critical for us, the awareness that He is here, that He is involved, that He is in control. Yet, in His control, He insists that we, His students, develop some backbone, develop some responsibility. So, while in control, He yet sits back, as it were, waiting upon our initiative.
Will we do as He did, and find those times to just get alone with Him and recharge? Will we do as He did, and call upon Him rather than forging onward without a thought in His direction? Will we seek to know what it is He wants done? See, the moment we lose our sense of that inseparability, we begin to assert our own will again. We lose the urge to willingly subordinate ourselves to our Lord. And, we don’t even sense the ridiculousness of that. We still speak of Him as Lord, even then, but we grant Him no rights to go with His fine title. This is not the model we were set. Jesus, by maintaining His end of that inseparable relationship, kept His will strong enough to subordinate itself to His beloved Father. We, if we will remain that close to Jesus, will allow Him that close to our consciousness, will likewise find that our will is strengthened, and able to submit to His will. A strong will need not be manifested as a Christian problem child. No, there is great strength of will required to voluntarily submit wholly to another’s will. It is no sign of weakness, but rather of near inhuman strength.
And this step, this subordinating of self will to Christ will, is the only avenue that can bring us to the goal of manifesting Christ to the world. That goal is the fundamental calling set upon us by our God and King. Go and make disciples, teaching them all I taught you. Go, in other words, and do as you saw Me do. Go and be My manifest image. Go live out a life that, if people see you and know you, they have seen and known Me.
Lord, I know I am terrible in practice when it comes to these things I preach. I am so easily pulled out of my own sense of Your immediacy. I so quickly cast You aside and resort to my own counsel. It never works, yet I seem determined to try the same failed policies over and over again. Jesus, I need You! You know this, of course, and so do I. But, the need is great. I have set myself to do battle with this longstanding sin, as You well know, and it is a battle that I’m hardly taking up for the first time. No. I’ve been defeated so often before, and why? Because either I’ve tried to take it on in my own power, or I’ve simply become lazy in my defense. I’ve not sought out times and ways to remain keenly aware of Your nearness. You have been inseparable from me, but I have not been inseparable from You. Indeed, I can find myself separated as soon as these times of study are ended, and forget about You, not even care to hear about You, for the rest of the day. How can You put up with friends like me?
Yet, it is because of this foolishness of mine, this terrible infidelity, that I come to You this morning. It is my greatest weakness, that I so swiftly cast You to the background. I dare not continue in that course, yet I know it is not in me to shift the course except You are holding the rudder. I have captained this ship too often already, and where has it got me? No. With as much earnestness as I can bring to the matter, I plead with You to have Your sovereign way in me. I wish to submit to Your will, to do only and exclusively what You will, what I see You doing. I know that this wish depends utterly and completely on Your choosing to make it so in me, yet I know this, too: We are inseparable. Where I am You are. What You will shall be done. Come, then, and let Your will be done in and through me as it is in heaven. I am willing.
