The Gospel of John Sermon Series

Having previously explored the first chapter, we begin our series with the first sign, the water into wine at the wedding. This is not only a revelation of Jesus’ divinity, it is a sign that points us to Jesus’ mission and purpose, to establish his bride, the Church, in covenant bonds, secured for the joy and union of the wedding banquet of the new age.

John pairs the turning of water into wine at Cana with the turning of cords into a whip in the temple. These incidents appear to be polar opposites; in the first Jesus was invited in and acts to save the day, in the latter he intrudes and disrupts, turning over the tables, driving out the traders. However, the two accounts have the theme of fulfilment in common, Jesus’ person and purpose is revealed. In filling the jars for purification Jesus transforms that which symbolises the old into that which represents the new, the abundant wine of the age of Messiah. In suspending worship at the temple, identifying it with himself, Jesus announces that he is the fulfilment of everything it represents, he is the one in whom, and by whom, God and his people dwell together.

It’s all a bit snakes and ladders. John recorded Jesus’ claim that he is the meeting point between earth and heaven: ‘you will see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.’ (1:51). The ladder to heaven is not performance, it’s a person. Pharisee Nicodemus was drawn to him, yet he approached at night, he was in the dark, in need of the Spirit’s illumination, ‘rebirth,’ to grasp Jesus’ identity and purpose, the one come down to raise up. Just as God gave a means of salvation in the wilderness, the bronze snake raised by Moses, so says Jesus: ‘I am the true provision, I must be lifted up (on the cross), that all who look to me may have eternal life’ (3:14-15). I’m the ladder who connects, the snake who saves, believe, land on me, given that you might gain.

In John 3 we learned of Jesus’ meeting with the religious and respectable Nicodemus, turn the page and travel north we read of Jesus engaging with a very different individual, a Samaritan woman, who approached the local meeting point in the heat of the sun, alone. She cuts a pitiful figure, yet Jesus, breaking all social convention, put his finger on her deepest need, and tenderly offered her the answer, himself. She came for water that satisfies for a moment, Jesus extends to her the ‘spring of water welling up to eternal life.’ Like the woman, we often search for significance and satisfaction in the wrong places, Jesus is not only the place, he’s available, to all who would receive him. The woman’s response is telling, having encountered Jesus, she can do no other than point others to him.

As with Andrew and Philip, the Samaritan woman’s response to Jesus was to call others to meet him. They would testify ‘we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Saviour of the world.’ This provides the context and contrast to Jesus’ return to Cana, where he’s welcomed for his wonders, not his word. The request for another miracle prompts a frustrated response. Jesus would act in compassion but he performed no public act, merely assuring the fraught father ‘your son will live.’ It is telling that John reports ‘the man took Jesus at his word.’ His trust was vindicated and he joins the Samaritans in right response to Jesus, take him at his word —
‘Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life’ (John 5:24).

In the fourth chapter of his gospel John recorded the encounter with a woman seeking security and satisfaction in the wrong place, Jesus offered her living water welling up to eternal life, connection with himself. In the following chapter we meet a man looking for hope and health in the wrong thing. In a sense this encounter by the purification pool is a mirror of our world, a beautiful setting, punctuated by pain and dysfunction, populated by people seeking remedy in what cannot deliver. Yet, this same scene provides a snapshot of the solution, a picture of our hope. In healing the man Jesus performed a sign that identified himself as the one who can reorder, the one the prophets spoke of, who would bring true vitality, spiritual restoration. His question rings through the ages, do you want to get well?

In chapter 5 John records Jesus’ healing of the invalid. This recreative miracle by word alone is another sign, a revelation of his identity as the Son of the Father, sent to bring in the hope of true sabbath rest. However, the response is remarkable – the former invalid fails to ‘honour the Son’ (v23), and the Jewish leaders not only miss the significance of the sign, they begin a campaign of opposition to Jesus that intensifies from this point on. In the discourse that follows the sign, Jesus adds declaration to demonstration, revealing the inner life of the Father-Son relationship and purpose of his mission, the Son has been appointed judge of all, the one in whom life is found, to receive him is to exchange condemnation for resurrection, to cross over from death to life. The right response – honour the Son.

The feeding miracle in John’s gospel teems with allusions. That Jesus had the people seated in a grassy area is reminiscent of Psalm 23, the good shepherd providing for the flock in green pastures. The mention of barley loaves echoes the feeding miracle performed by Elisha, 2 Kings 4, yet Jesus feeds a far larger crowd with fewer loaves, surely the greater Elisha is here? Of course, the miracle reflects the provision of abundant manna in the wilderness (Exodus 16), Jesus is the Moses. Through Moses God provided food to sustain on earth, Jesus is himself the ‘bread of life,’ feeding on him, trusting him sustains life for eternity. The people came for a free lunch, however, so much more was on offer – receive the living bread, Christ himself, ‘Whoever eats this bread will live for ever.’

A creative miracle, a healing on the sabbath, the day that anticipated the greater rest of the kingdom. This ‘sign’ signifies Jesus’ identity as the awaited Son of Man, the sabbath maker, the light of the world. The miracle is described only briefly, the focus is on the discourse and drama that followed. We see the blind man’s spiritual sight coming into clearer and clearer focus, whilst the religious establishment, wilfully refuse to see and spectacularly miss the point. The man’s testimony of Jesus’ work in him, ‘I was blind but now I see’ becomes both a physical and spiritual reality as he worshipped Jesus as Lord. This sparks our praise, so may it spur our prayer, that the world might receive ‘sight’ to believe and have life.

John 10 continues the discourse of the previous chapter, however the motif changes from seeing to hearing. Jesus is identified as the true Shepherd, known and recognised by his sheep. In his statement ‘I am the good Shepherd’ Jesus was declaring himself to be the fulfilment of Ezekiel’s prophecy ‘As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep.’ Jesus will protect and provide for his own, indeed, the hired help loves his life more than the sheep, but Jesus loves the sheep more than his life. He will lay it down to save and secure them, to bring them into the fulness and belonging of eternal life. The religious authorities demonstrate they are not of the flock in their opposition, genuine sheep however know the voice of their shepherd, they hear and follow…

Both Mary and Martha spoke the same word to Jesus: ‘if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’ Some onlookers shared the same view, the Jesus who could open the eyes of the blind could surely have intervened to save Lazarus? But Jesus wasn’t around, indeed, after hearing of his friend’s illness he stayed put for two days. Why the delay? Jesus told his disciples that Lazarus’ condition served a greater glory. Not only would Jesus humanity and divinity be displayed, but in going to war with death itself Jesus would be revealed as the resurrection and life. Moreover, by raising Lazarus Jesus would become the resurrection and the life. This sign sealed the hour of his glory, the triumph of his passion by which he secures his own. The key question is, do you believe this?

Palm Sunday is when the Church traditionally remembers Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. John tells us that along the road Jesus was hailed as king; as the prophets foretold, as David’s son Solomon had foreshadowed, the promised king came lowly and riding on the foal of a donkey. This king was different, this king came to serve, to triumph through weakness, to liberate through defeat. Palm Sunday saw Jesus riding to the hour of his glory, the hour of the cross where justice and mercy meet. Yet, as Jesus came lowly to serve, to be lifted up to die, he would also be lifted up to reign with his people. The waving palms anticipate that great day of kingdom come (see Revelation 7:9), all God’s people under the canopy of his blessing through the king who stooped to serve.

‘Christ is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia.’ Easter Sunday services up and down the land begin with this bold acclamation. He is risen, many eye-witnesses testified to seeing Jesus alive, indeed as the apostle Paul argued: ‘these things were not done in a corner,’ the resurrection was public and professed, it caused the Church to explode into life. Resurrection is credible, He is risen. Here is the heart of our faith: a risen Jesus declares the triumph of the cross, the resurrection demonstrates that it really is ‘finished,’ justice done, sin atoned for; therefore, the jailer of death has lost all right to hold all those for whom Jesus paid. His resurrection guarantees his followers’ resurrection, by faith we share his life, raised and seated with him. He is risen, and his resurrection writes hope over the world.