“And for Their Sake…”

Well, to the seventeenth chapter of John and to the nineteenth verse. As I said this morning, in some senses, the eighteenth verse sends us back to Bethlehem and beyond, and the nineteenth verse points us forward to Calvary and beyond. And as we meditate on that before we come around the Lord’s Table, let me just use the collect for the second Sunday in Advent as we come to the Scriptures by way of prayer:

Blessed Lord, who [has] caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Well, the nineteenth verse. It is there: “And for their sake,” says Jesus—that is, for the sake of his disciples, expressly those who are in earshot of him, and all who will believe on the word that they proclaim, which becomes an expansive number—he says, “And for their sake I consecrate myself, that they also may be sanctified in [the] truth.”

Now, we haven’t been going through John’s Gospel directly, but we have spent some time in it, because we were doing the “Truly, truly” passages. And so we have a sense of the unfolding of the Gospel. And when you get to the end of chapter 12 in John’s Gospel, there is a shift. It’s essentially the end of John’s record of all of the public ministry of the Lord Jesus. From chapter 13 and on, the balance of the Gospel has to do with Jesus’ narrative ministry, his conversations with his disciples, and also with the events that surround his passion—everything that led up to Calvary and beyond Calvary.

But, quite fascinatingly, the verse with which the second half, if you like, begins is found, as you would expect, at the end—is at the end of chapter 12—then the beginning would be at the beginning of chapter 13. And at 13:1 it reads, “Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” And, I think, on more than one occasion as we were doing the “Truly, truly” passages, we made reference to that. It is a quite remarkable and striking statement: that having loved his own, he loved them to the end.

Tasker in his little commentary on John—and it’s a really helpful little commentary—he suggests that this opening here in chapter 13 is not to be regarded simply as an introduction to all that follows in chapter 13, but rather, it should be viewed as an introduction to the balance of the Gospel itself—that what you have, he says, is the explication of the love of God expressed in Jesus for his own as we read through the rest of the Gospel.

And Jesus, in his love for his disciples, is revealing his love in so many different ways, but he is revealing his love for them in preparing them for what lies ahead. And just the little phrase with which 19 begins—17:19—points us in this direction, doesn’t it? “And for their sake.” “And for their sake.” In other words, Jesus, in light of all that awaits him, is thinking more about them than he’s thinking about himself.

And I want simply to do this: first of all, to encourage you, along with me, to consider the love of Jesus for his own. I don’t want you to try and follow my Scripture references. I might not get them all right, and then you will get them wrong, and then we’ll all be at sea. I would rather suggest to you that, as best you can, just listen to me as I try, as best I can, to remind us all of the extent of how much Jesus actually loves us. That’s point one: that we might consider the love of Jesus for his own.

Now, in 13:1, where it says that he “loved his own,” you know the Gospel, and you know that “his own” is already mentioned in the opening narrative, in the opening statement, the prologue, where it says that “he came unto his own, and his own received him not.”[1] Well, we sang about that in our song, didn’t we? The reaction of people to him was scorn, it was abuse, it was unbelief, and so on.

And so, what we’re discovering here is that the reference to “his own” is to those whom the Father had given him out of the world. He has loved them, and he is showing them now the extent of his love. He wants them, he wants us to know just how utterly and completely he actually loves us.

In fact, I would suggest—I know I haven’t checked it—but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if love is not actually given a completely new prominence from the beginning of 13 all the way to the end of 21. I think if we go back and check, we will discover that 1 through 12, there’s far more emphasis on Jesus as Light and Jesus as Truth. There’s not as much emphasis on that in the balance, but there is a clear focus pointing us to the extent of Jesus’ love.

And certainly, as we gather around the Lord’s Table in a moment or two from now, it is actually more than possible for us, for good reasons and for bad, to actually miss the profound simplicity of the fact that is contained in probably the song that every child in a Christian home learns to sing first of all: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”[2]

I want to suggest to you that I don’t care how old you are; you will never progress beyond that reality. That is the reality. That’s why Barth—whether it is an apocryphal story or not—the great theologian in the twentieth century, when he was confronted by a seminary class, and somebody was bright enough to say, “Dr. Barth, what is the greatest thought that you have ever had?” and that was his answer: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

So, let me show you: His love is on display. In chapter 13, which is where we began, it is immediately on display, because you know that he does what no one else is prepared to do. He wraps a towel around him, and he washes the feet of the disciples—washes the feet of Judas, who will betray him; washes the feet of Peter, who will deny him; washes the feet of every one of them who wasn’t prepared to do for each other what needed to be done. Why did he do that? Well, because he loved them. And, indeed, that moment, with that towel and that basin, is actually a foreshadowing of all that was going to be expressed when he came to the cross.

When you get into chapter 14, his love for them is expressed in his opening statement: “Let not your hearts be troubled.”[3] “I don’t want you to be troubled. I don’t want you to be upset.” This is an expression of his love. “You believe in God. Believe in me.”[4] His love! He comes back to it again in 14, right around verse 27 or so. You can find it later on for yourself.

Still in chapter 14, he says, “I want you to know that I’m going to leave you, but I won’t leave you as orphans.”[5] “I won’t leave you as orphans.” I watched a movie the other evening with my wife; it was called The Children’s Train. It was an Italian movie with subtitles, and I can’t remember very much about it, except that it was a Second World War movie, and the Communists were looking after the children, and Mussolini was despised. And whatever else was going on, it was full of amazing moments that expressed the great feeling of emptiness in the life of a child when they know they have no one to whom they can look as their very own.

And it is love that steps into that moment. And Jesus looks on the face of these folks. He’s known them now for three years—the good, the bad, and the ugly about them—and he loves them. And so he says, “I don’t want you to think for a moment that I’m going to leave you as orphans. No. We’re going to be taking care of that.”

Still in chapter 14, he says, “I’m going to tell you these things so that when they happen to you, it won’t cause you to fall off the trolley,” so to speak—you know, when you’re flying transatlantically, and you’re coming out of the East Coast, and eventually the fellow says, “Well, so far, so good. But when we cross the jet stream, you should be alert to the fact that it may just get a little turbulent.” And somewhere in the darkness, in the middle of the night, you’re very, very thankful, when it begins to rock and roll, that the guy up front was so sensitive as to let us know we ought not to be alarmed. Trust him!

That’s what Jesus is saying here: “When the drama unfolds, of which you’re going to be a part,” he says to his own, “I want you to make sure that you understand that I’ve told you this ahead of things so that you might not be caught off guard.” He goes on to say, “If you want to know how much I love you, let me tell you: As the Father has loved me, that’s how I love you.”[6]

His love for them assures their protection: 16 begins, “I’ve said all these things again to you to keep you from falling away. They’re going to put you out of synagogues and so on. But I love you.”[7] And, again, his concern that they will not be overburdened by things is an expression of his love: “I still have many things to say to you, but you can’t bear them now. I’m not going to load you down with stuff. No! There will be a time for that. When the Spirit of truth comes, he’ll guide you into truth, and so on. I’ve got a lot to say. But you’re not ready to hear it.”[8]

Why does he hold back? Because he loves them. And, of course, when you get to chapter 17, that gets us up to date almost. And verse 1: “When Jesus had spoken these words”—that’s all that was in 16—“he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and said, ‘Father…’”[9] And he prays for his own.

It cost the Father to give up his only begotten Son, and it was costly for the Son to lay down his life for the sheep.

It’s remarkable that within hours of the conclusion of his prayer, he’s going to be deserted, confronted by opponents, set upon in the garden by people with lanterns and torches and a spirit of animosity. He knows that that is what is coming. But look at what it says: “And for their sake…” “And for their sake…” When the moment arrives, his love for them actually shines through. And when you go on into chapter 18 and that encounter finally takes place, what does he say? He says to his opponents, he says, “If you seek me, let these men go.”[10] Such love!

There is no love like the love of Jesus,
Never to fade or fall,
Till into the fold of the peace of God
He has gathered us all.

Jesus’ love, precious love.
Boundless, pure, free!
O come to that love, weary, wandering soul;
Jesus pleads for thee.[11]

That was the first point.

Second point: the extent of his love, secondly, that we see expressed in his consecration. “And for their sake I consecrate myself.” The word in Greek as hagiazō. It’s the same word that is used to translate “sanctify” throughout the passage. It’s interesting that the translators in this particular translation choose to translate it “consecrate.” I think I understand exactly why that is: to make the distinction between what it meant for Jesus to become the priest and the sufferer and what it means for those of us who are his followers to be increasingly holy.

In fact, Bishop Ryle, when you come to his little commentary on this and you get to this particular verse, he says, “This is a rather hard passage.”[12] And that’s like a big, red flag going up for me when I’m reading it. I said, “If it was hard for Ryle, it’s going to be hard for me.” One of my friends down in Memphis, in the South, Ronnie Stevens, he says of it, “These words take us to the heights and to the depths.” Because in what Jesus is saying here, he’s clearly referring to the fact that he is going to give himself up to death for their sake. And in verse 18, he has acknowledged that he was sent by the Father into the world.

But here, in verse 19, it is equally clear that although the Father gave the Son, the Son gave himself. And that’s what he’s mentioning here. Both the Father and the Son take the initiative in saving sinners. They’re in it together, if you like. In fact, Stott masterfully brings it home for us when he says when we talk of the Father’s plan and the Son’s sacrifice, we should not think of the Father laying on the Son an ordeal he was unwilling to bear, nor of the Son extracting from the Father a salvation he was unwilling to bestow.[13] No, it cost the Father to give up his only begotten Son, and it was costly for the Son to lay down his life for the sheep.

I guess today’s the day for old songs, but I remember, again, in the same kind of context to which I was referring this morning, we used to have often on Sunday nights, somebody would stand up and sing a solo about the “ninety and nine that safely lay in the shelter of the fold.” I don’t know if you’re familiar with that. And it was usually quite good, but sometimes not so good, but it happened so many times that I knew the words off by heart. And it’s obviously from the story of the ninety and nine. And Jesus tells the story. And they were all there, but one was out, and the shepherd went out to get them. And then it’s, I think, the second verse that always stood out to me. It goes,

But none of the ransomed ever knew
How deep was the water crossed
Or how dark was the night that the Lord passed through
When he found his sheep that were lost.[14]

How could we ever know that? All we could ever know is the love of the Shepherd, who came to seek us. We didn’t know exactly all that he undertook in order to execute that rescue. But if we take it at the bottom line, we’re simply affirming what we are pointing out all the way through: It’s because of his love—that what Jesus knew and planned for from all of eternity he actually then learned in the experience of the suffering through which he went.

Keddie, the old Scottish commentator, says, “He consecrated himself for his work of redemption inch by agonizing inch.” That’s quite a statement! It’s an amazing thought. It has to be pondered. Otherwise, if we’re not careful, we can become pretty slick with our ability to explain the gospel—to explain that, in much the same way that you had those dreadful things in mathematics where a times b with a 5 and a 2, and over here you had a 10 and a… I didn’t know what it was doing! But the one balanced the other out, and if you got it right, then it was good, and that was fine. And there is an approach to talking about the gospel that almost leaves out the immensity of what is taking place. And that’s why he gives us this Supper: so that we would never forget what took place—that his body was broken, that his blood was shed, and all because of his love for us.

Now, that “inch by inch” thing is borne out by the testimony of Scripture. I could see some of you looking quizzically at me, and so you should. But read on in the Gospel, and what do you discover? That Jesus in the garden is distressed. He’s troubled. He’s sorrowful, even to the point of death. Luke, the doctor, tells us that on an evening when it was cold enough to have a fire in the courtyard of the high priest’s house,[15] Jesus’ sweat became “like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.”[16]

Listen to him as he speaks to his Father: “Father, if you are willing, remove [the] cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” And then the Gospels say, “And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him.” The idea of God being strengthened by an angel! “And being in agony he prayed more earnestly.”[17] I think Keddie was on to something with that “inch by inch.”

And if you’re not happy with Keddie, let me give you Alec Motyer:

Without trespassing into the solemn mysteries of the incarnation, [Christ’s] perfection of humanity was related to his perfect obedience. [Jesus] … insisted on the costly career of inflexible obedience to the Father’s word … when quicker and easier remedies were open to him by right as the Father’s Son; Son though he was, he ‘learned obedience’ in suffering …, and along the pathway of obedience he grew from innocence to holiness.[18]

Now, you say, “Well, where would we find that?” Well, you’ve got it straightforwardly in the amazing moment when Jesus is prepared to point out to these folks that he loves that they really shouldn’t be fiddling around with their swords and so on. And Jesus, in that moment of being seized and defended and the high priest’s [servant’s] ear going south—and Jesus said to him, “Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” Here it is: “Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send … more than twelve legions of angels?”[19] By perfect right, he was the Son. He could easily have done so. But he chose to walk the inflexible path of obedience.

In fact, the writer to the Hebrews gives it to us in verses that are always troubling until we really think them out. In Hebrews, first in chapter 2 and then later in chapter 5—but I told you you didn’t have to look them up, but I do. Hebrews 2:10: “For it was fitting that he”—that is, Jesus—“for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering.”

Now, that word does not suggest that Jesus was imperfect at that point. It means “complete”—that the completion of the plan of the Father in the person of the Son was revealed in that reality. And you have the same thing, actually, in chapter 5, in a briefer statement: “Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what was suffered.”[20]

Consider the love of Jesus for his own, expressed in his consecration—and, finally, to the end “that they also may be sanctified in [the] truth.” In walking in obedience to the Father’s will, Jesus is the sinless Priest who offers the sacrifice of himself in order that what we read at the beginning of the service or earlier on, again in Hebrews chapter 10, might be worked out. Actually, Hebrews 9:26 makes it clear: “For then he would have had to suffer repeatedly since the foundation of the world. But as it is, he … appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.” And, again, in the following chapter: “And by that will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.”[21]

We find sanctification accomplished in all of its fullness at the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ.

So, what do we know? Simply this: that only on the basis of that act of God in Jesus, by way of redemption and sanctification, could pave the way for those for whom he’s praying there, and therefore for us, that we in turn might be sanctified through the truth. If Christ had not sanctified himself or consecrated himself to the work of redemption, there would be no need for anything else. But it is in doing so that he then opens up the way so that we might actually be holy, that we might be saved, that we might be different, that we might be his possession, that we might by the articulation of our lips and our life explain to the world, “Jesus really loves us. And because he loves us this much, we are committed to loving him back.”

You can go look for all the verses yourself. Let me give you just three: “Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…” What? “That he might sanctify her.”[22] Jesus “gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify … a people for his own possession … zealous for good works.”[23] That was Titus 2. The first one was Ephesians 5. And in 1 Peter 2: “He”—that is, Jesus—“himself bore our sins in his [own] body on the tree.” Why? “That we might die to sin and live to righteousness.”[24] He didn’t die in order that we got an insurance policy, in order that we get a free pass into heaven. “There was no other good enough to pay the price of sin; he only could unlock the [door] of heaven and let us in.”[25] Yeah! When we understand that, then it changes a lot, doesn’t it? The Father’s plan from all of eternity was to conform us to the image of his Son. And all that we’ve been considering in these verses concerns that.

Let me draw this to a close, as I must, by pointing out, first of all, that we find sanctification accomplished in all of its fullness at the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ. That is made perfectly clear in the verse to which I keep returning and keep losing my place every time. Hebrews 10:10: “By that will”—the will that he has fulfilled—“and by that will we have been sanctified.” Past tense! “Sanctified.” Remember what we said when we looked at sanctification: that regeneration, justification, sanctification, glorification, and all is in one big, sweeping move of the Spirit of God. He doesn’t justify those that he doesn’t sanctify, and he doesn’t justify those that he doesn’t glorify. And the reason that one day we will have a glorified body is because of what he has done in the past for us. And by his grace, we’ve entered into that. That’s what he’s saying: Sanctification has been accomplished.

Here it is: We are to be sanctified because we are sanctified. Do you get it? We are to be sanctified because we are sanctified. We are set apart, but we’re not sinless—set apart but not sinless. Sanctification is there in all of its fullness in the cross. Sanctification is then experienced by us on an ongoing basis. Jesus sanctifies those whom he has sanctified.

Now, the fourteenth verse, which we again read earlier, too: “For by a single offering”—that was his offering on the cross—“he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.”[26] It shouldn’t trouble us. There’s a renovation process going on. And though at times it is painful, it’s always purposeful. Because what God, by the Holy Spirit, is doing in the life of the believer is making us increasingly fit for the title which he has put upon us. He has marked us out as his own. He has said, “Father, these are the ones that you have given to me. I love them with an everlasting love. I’m leaving them. They’re going out into the world. Make sure, Father, that they are preserved and kept and sanctified in order that they might be, if you like, in real life, expressing the reality which is true of them.”

For example, if you think about the thief on the cross: If he had not been taken immediately into the presence of Jesus, his life then would have borne testimony. He would have been increasingly sanctified—so that the reality of it accomplished in the cross is then experienced on an ongoing basis. And, finally, it is consummated on that resurrection morning, “when the dead in Christ shall rise and the glory of his resurrection share,”[27] and “with bodies all celestial” we will “meet him in the skies.”[28] That’s where we’re going.

“Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we [shall] be has not yet appeared; but we [do] know that when he appears we shall be like him, [for] we shall see him as he is.”[29] Do you know what the next verse says? “And everyone who has this hope within him purifies himself, as he is pure”[30]—that it is our sanctification which bears testimony to the reality of our justification and sends us on to the ultimate fulfillment of that for which God has made us his own.

Consider the extent of Jesus’ love, expressed in his consecration, to the end that we might become like him.

Well, just a brief prayer:

Father, these things are—they’re hard thoughts, big thoughts. But at the heart of it all, we understand the wonder of your love for us. What should our response be? Surely to tell you that we love you. I wonder: Have we told you lately that we love you? I wonder: Have we shown others just how much we love you?

My Jesus, I love you; I know you are mine.
For you all the follies of sin I resign.
My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art thou.
If ever I loved you, my Jesus, ’tis now.[31]

You know all about us. You know our names. You know our past, our present, and our future. Whatever else we take from a Sunday night around the Table into the Monday of all of our Mondays to come, may we never doubt the wonder of your love for us, Lord Jesus Christ. And we pray in your name. Amen.

[1] John 1:11 (KJV).

[2] Anna Bartlett Warner, “Jesus Loves Me, This I Know” (1859).

[3] John 14:1 (ESV).

[4] John 14:1 (paraphrased).

[5] John 14:18 (paraphrased).

[6] John 15:9 (paraphrased).

[7] John 16:1–2 (paraphrased).

[8] John 16:12–13 (paraphrased).

[9] John 17:1 (ESV).

[10] John 18:8 (ESV).

[11] William Edensor Littlewood, “There Is No Love Like the Love of Jesus” (1857). Lyrics lightly altered.

[12] J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels: St. John (New York: Robert Carter and Brothers, 1878), 3:200.

[13] John R. W. Stott, The Cross of Christ, 20th anniv. ed. (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2006), 151–52.

[14] Elizabeth Cecelia Clephane, “The Ninety and Nine” (1868). Lyrics lightly altered.

[15] See Luke 22:55.

[16] Luke 22:44 (ESV).

[17] Luke 22:42–44 (ESV).

[18] Alec Motyer, Look to the Rock: An Old Testament Background to Our Understanding of Christ (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 1996), 78.

[19] Matthew 26:52–53 (ESV).

[20] Hebrews 5:8 (ESV).

[21] Hebrews 10:10 (ESV).

[22] Ephesians 5:25–26 (ESV).

[23] Titus 2:14 (ESV).

[24] 1 Peter 2:24 (ESV).

[25] Cecil Frances Alexander, “There Is a Green Hill Far Away” (1848).

[26] Hebrews 10:14 (ESV).

[27] James Milton Black, “When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder” (1889).

[28] Fanny Jane Crosby, “What a Gathering” (1887).

[29] 1 John 3:2 (ESV).

[30] 1 John 3:3 (paraphrased).

[31] [William Ralph Featherston?], “My Jesus, I Love Thee” (1862). Language modernized.