The Agony and The Glory

Transcript

Family, if you would be so kind as to turn with me in your Bibles to the Gospel of John, chapter 12. We’re going to be reading a pretty long portion, so please remain seated. But we’re going to be reading from verses 27 all the way to 50. I’ll read and then we’ll pray, and then we’ll dive in. Now is my soul troubled, and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour. But for this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name. Then a voice came from heaven. I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again. The crowd that stood there and heard it said that it had thundered. Others said an angel has spoken to him. Jesus answered, this voice has come for your sake, not mine. Now is the judgment of this world. Now will the ruler of this world be cast out, and I, when I am lifted up from the earth,

will draw all people to myself. He said this to show what kind of death he was going to die. So the crowd answered him, we have heard from the law that the Christ remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man? So Jesus said to them, the light is among you for a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you. The one who walks in darkness does not know where he is going. While you have the light, believe in the light, that you may become sons of the light. When Jesus had said these things, he departed and hid himself from them. Though he had done so many signs before them, they still did not believe in him, so that the words spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled.

Lord, who has believed what he heard from us, and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? Therefore, they could not believe. For again, Isaiah said, he has blinded their eyes and hardened their hearts, lest they see with their eyes and understand with their heart and turn, and I would heal them. Isaiah said these things because he saw his glory and spoke of him. Nevertheless, many, even of the authorities, believed in him, but for fear of the Pharisees, they did not confess it, so that they would not be put out of the synagogue. For they love the glory that comes from man more than the glory that comes from God. And Jesus cried out and said, whoever believes in me, believes not in me, but in him who sent me, and whoever sees me, sees him who sent me. I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness.

If anyone hears my words and does not keep them, I do not judge them, for I did not come to judge the world, but to save the world. The one who rejects me and does not receive my words has a judge. The word that I have spoken will judge him on the last day. For I have not spoken on my own authority, but the Father who sent me has himself given me a commandment, what to say and what to speak. And I know that his commandment is eternal life. What I say, therefore, I say as the Father has told me. This family is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. Let’s pray. Father, as we open up your word this morning, we pray that the Holy Spirit would open our hearts. We pray that you would be the necessary light, illuminating the text, so that we could see

The Cross

Jesus in all of his glory and the way he glorifies the Father. And as a result, we would be prompted to do the very same things, to glorify Jesus and glorify the Father. We pray, O Lord, that you would help us this morning. We desperately need your help. Meet us here this morning, we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen. 20 years ago, on October 15th, Heather and I stood before God, before family and friends, and said, I do. Yeah. Turn up. And really, this would prove to be one of the most glorious moments of our lives. We were young, I had brown hair, filled with love and full of hope for our future together, standing at the threshold of all the beauty marriage would bring into our lives. Well, only 36 hours after we spoke those vows, while on our honeymoon, we were caught in a Category 5 hurricane.

One moment we were on the beach, in the glorious sunlight, celebrating what God brought together. The next we were being evacuated from our hotel room by armed guards, herded into buses and taken 20 miles inland to an elementary school building, where we would spend the next eight days riding out the storm. How’s that for a honeymoon? Now it’s hard to describe what we experienced in those days just following our marriage vows. The wind screamed, the windows that were boarded up with plywood shook. We slept on these small elementary school desks, you know, the kind with the wood that kind of sits up like that. It’s hard to sleep in those desks. There we slept with a flooded floor and rationed food in a fourth grade classroom in Cancun for eight days with complete strangers. Now if you’ve never experienced a hurricane before, I don’t recommend it.

The best way I could try to describe the sounds that we heard, because we were boarded in a room, we couldn’t see anything, would be like sitting six feet beneath a roller coaster that never stops. The sheer volume of bending metal and wind screaming was deafening. Having never been in a hurricane before, since we were from Southern California, we had no idea what was going to happen. Would the roof fly off? And would we fly out after? That’s what happens in movies. Needless to say, there were a few moments of terror. Several days into our marriage, in the midst of this hurricane, we truly believed that we might not make it home. The glory of our first week of marriage was completely swallowed up by the agony of this Category 5 hurricane. And yet, looking back 20 years later, it’s hard to separate those two events.

Because that experience bound us together in the ways comfort never could. We learned what it meant to cling to one another when everything else was falling apart or flying apart. We learned to lean on the promises of the Lord, come whatever the circumstances. We learned to trust God in the face and in the fear of the unknown. It was agony and glory at the same time. We just didn’t know it then. And family, life is often like this. The moments of greatest beauty are rarely untouched by unimaginable pain. And the moments of deepest suffering often carry glimmers of glory we couldn’t have seen otherwise. But nowhere is this tension or this collision of agony and glory seen more clearly than in the life of Jesus. There’s a certain stillness in the air as chapter 12 begins to close. And you can almost feel it. It’s kind of like the calm before the storm or the momentary peace in the eye of a hurricane.

Agony and Glory

For months, Jesus has been moving slowly and steadily toward this moment. He’s healed the sick. He’s raised the dead. He’s silenced the storms. He spoke in words that turned hearts and flipped the religious system upside down. But now, in this moment, everything seems to slow down. Because Jesus is only moments away from the passion. Everything leading up to the cross. The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. In this moment, from verse 27 to the end of the chapter, John brings us to the brink of the passion. The final scene of Jesus’ public teaching ministry. Immediately after this, Jesus will withdraw from the crowd. He’ll head up into the upper room to wash the feet of his disciples and prepare their hearts for what’s about to come. But here, in the last words to the crowds, Jesus shows them and us the essence of the

gospel. That glory comes through suffering. That life comes through death. And that light comes through the darkness of the cross. And John masterfully gives us four pictures of this final scene before the passion. Each one like a different camera capturing the same moment from a different angle. And it’s those frames that I’ll use to break our text apart this morning. So we’ll look at the cross, the light, the rejection, and the summons. So let’s begin with the first scene, the cross. We’ll see this in verses 27 through 33. Here Jesus is standing on the edge of the perfect storm, fully aware of what’s coming. And unlike most people, he doesn’t flinch with his fate. But he does feel it. And that’s why he begins in verse 27 by saying, now is my soul troubled. And just so that there’s no confusion, that word trouble in the original language means

shaken. Or a better word would be terrified. And it sounds crazy that Jesus, the Son of God, was terrified. But you have to remember, and this is what we just unpacked in the kids’ catechism, Jesus was fully God and fully man. So he felt all the emotions that humans would feel, yet without sin. So the son of God in that moment feels the full weight of what’s coming, and he’s terrified. And not because he’s uncertain about the outcome, but because of the opposite. He is fully aware of what’s about to happen. And that’s a different kind of terror than what we would feel. You know, when we face suffering or death, we fear what we don’t know. We fear the unknown. We fear what the pain might feel like, or what the separation might feel like. We fear the mystery of what lies beyond. But Jesus isn’t like us in this respect, because he’s not afraid of death.

In fact, he’s about to conquer it. Jesus is the resurrection and the life. Family, his agony is not about dying. It’s about what he must face in the face of death, and what his death must accomplish. In Matthew’s gospel, it gives us a fuller picture of what Jesus is feeling in this moment. Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, prays, My soul is very sorrowful, even unto death. Father, if possible, let this cup pass from me. And in Luke’s gospel, it says this, And being in agony, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. And so this begs the question, or questions, What is this cup that causes for Jesus to be in such agony that he desires the cup to pass from him, and that would be so overwhelming that he would sweat blood? Well, this cup is the unrestrained, full dose of divine wrath.

The holy judgment of a righteous God poured out for every sin of every human heart in concentrated form. And Jesus is about to drink it all to the very last drop. Every ounce of divine justice that should have been ours will fall on him instead. The weight of hell itself is about to fall on Jesus. And listen, not symbolically, not metaphorically, but actually. This is why his soul trembles. This is what terrifies him and what makes him sweat blood. Now, to be clear, this trembling of Jesus isn’t weakness. It’s actually proof. Proof that he really stood in our place. He trembles because he knows the cost of bearing holy wrath. And he willingly steps into it so that we don’t have to. That’s the terror of substitution, or the agony of love. And just a side note, speaking of the terror of substitution, you know, it’s become exceedingly popular today to dismiss what theologians call the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement.

Especially in the Pacific Northwest. To say that God didn’t need to punish sin. Or that a loving God would never pour out his wrath on his son because that sounds like divine child abuse. But listen, if there is no wrath from God, there is no justice. And if there is no justice from God, there is no salvation. And the path for Jesus to secure salvation is the sacrifice of himself on a bloody cross. Family, the gospel depends on this truth. Jesus took our penalty. That’s penal. Jesus stood in our place. That’s substitution. Jesus satisfies the demands of divine justice. That’s atonement. So if anyone tells you that this doctrine isn’t needed or that it’s overly emphasized, then they’re not preaching the gospel Jesus died to give us. Because it’s this very reality, this real wrath and real substitution that caused the son of God to tremble the way he did.

If it weren’t necessary or if the cup could pass, if there was another way, then there’d be no reason for him to experience this terror. And again, to be clear, he’s not afraid of dying. That’s the least of his concern. He’s terrified of absorbing the holy judgment of God. That’s why his soul is troubled. And that’s why he prays, Father, save me from this hour. Or in Matthew’s gospel, Father, if possible, pass this cup from me. But even in his sorrow and in his terror, as he pleads for another way, he steadies himself and he pushes forward. And it’s in this moment, family, where we get a glimpse into the deepest humility in the universe. I mean, think about this for a second. The very God who spoke man into existence, who shaped Adam from dust and breathed life into his lungs, is now preparing to give up his life to bear the curse of that same dust.

The creator is taking responsibility for his creation’s rebellion. Though sinless and perfect, Jesus steps into our place and absorbs wrath as if he were the one guilty. Family, this is cosmic humility. That the one offended by sin would be the one to bear the punishment for the offender. The very hands that formed humanity would be stretched out on a cross to redeem humanity. And he does this not because we did anything to deserve it, but because his love refuses to leave us in the ruin that we caused because of our sin and rebellion. This is love and humility on full display. And in the center of that sorrow, he steadies his soul and he says, but for this purpose, I have come to this hour. Every miracle he’s performed, every sermon he’s preached, every step of obedience that Jesus has made leads right here. Which means this hour is not a detour from glory.

It is glory. Family, despite the ugliness of the cross, the cross is not a tragedy. It’s a triumph. It’s not a loss to be mourned. It’s a victory to be revealed and to be heralded. So Jesus, in verse 28, prays the defining prayer of redemption as he looks forward to the cross. He says, Father, glorify your name. He’s saying, I know the cup won’t pass. It can’t. I know the storm won’t come. In fact, the agony of the storm will soon consume me. But father, let your glory shine through it. That’s the heart of redemption. And that’s the model for every believer walking through suffering. If Jesus in his humanity could glorify the father through agony, even our suffering can display the father’s glory. I mean, when was the last time you asked God to help you give him glory through your suffering? That’s a difficult prayer to pray, especially when it’s deep suffering.

Have you ever attempted to bring God glory through your agony? Or are you so focused on the pain that you forget even to ask that the pain might accentuate God’s glory? I know it’s hard to do that, but we can pray just like Jesus prayed. Father, this is hard. This is almost unbearable. It’s wrecking me, it’s crushing me, but father, give me the strength and the perspective to glorify your name through this suffering. And listen, it is OK to ask God to remove whatever is causing the suffering. I’m not saying don’t pray that prayer. But what I am saying is that if God doesn’t answer your prayer of removing the suffering, then you should shift your prayer and ask God to help you glorify him through the suffering. I mean, that’s exactly what Jesus was doing. He asks the Lord, if possible, stop this suffering from happening.

But the Lord doesn’t. And so what does he do? He commits himself to the Father’s glory. He knows if he doesn’t do it, it won’t bring about God’s providential purposes. And I promise you this, when you pray a prayer like that, God will meet you right in the middle of your pain and suffering. And he will empower you to give him glory. He’ll use that suffering not just to connect with other brothers and sisters in the church who are suffering, but he’ll use it to mature you, to deepen your faith, to make you more like Christ through the process of pain. And what’s incredible is immediately after Jesus prays this prayer, the heavens crack open and God answers. The Father answers, I have glorified it and I will glorify it again. In response to Jesus’s prayer, the Father’s voice thunders down from above, not with warning, but with affirmation.

I have been glorified in your life, my son, and I will be glorified in your death. That’s proof that the cross wasn’t a tragedy, but divinely designed. It was part of the Father’s plan, and it brings him glory because what his plan will accomplish for the people of God. But even after the Father speaks these words of affirmation, the crowd doesn’t seem to get it. We see this in verse 29. Some of the people think it’s thunder, others think it’s an angel speaking. Only Jesus recognizes his Father’s voice, and that’s not an insignificant detail. Jesus recognizes the Father’s voice because the words of God are only clear to those who walk close enough to hear him. You understand that? That’s a good word for us. Some of us want to hear from God at a distance to understand his will without walking closely with him.

But that’s not how it works. Clarity comes through closeness. So you want to hear the Father’s voice, you need to draw near to the Son. When life is confusing, when you can’t make sense of what God is doing in your life, the answer isn’t to kind of step back to get some perspective. It’s to step closer. Because those who walk closely with Jesus are the ones who hear clearly from him. The more you walk with him in his word and in prayer and through obedience, the more you begin to recognize his voice above all the other white noise in our world. So by way of encouragement, if you’re struggling to hear God, listen, don’t assume he’s silent. It might be that he’s inviting you to come near to him through his word and through prayer so that you could hear him and what he has to say to you in those moments.

In verse 30, Jesus turns to the confused crowd, the ones who can’t quite make sense of the Father’s voice, and he begins to explain what that heavenly affirmation really means. He’s telling them what the cross will actually accomplish, and Jesus gives three declarations here that capture the full meaning of his mission. First, he emphasizes that the cross will judge the world. We see this in verse 31. Now is the judgment of the world. At the cross, the true state of humanity is revealed and all pretense is stripped away. Sin is no longer seen as a kind of simple mistake or a kind of moral hiccup. It’s exposed for what it truly is, willful rebellion against a holy God. So while the world will look at Jesus on the cross and declare him guilty, in reality, it is the world itself that’s on trial through the cross.

At the cross, God pronounces his verdict on sin, guilty, and yet at the very same time, he provides a way for sinners to be declared righteous. So the cross, in many ways, is both a courtroom and an altar. It’s where perfect justice and perfect mercy meet, where the judge himself steps down from the bench and takes the sentence upon himself and actually pays the penalty his creation could never bear. So when Jesus says, now is the judgment of the world, he’s not saying judgment is postponed until the end of time. He’s saying it begins right here, right now on this tree. The cross exposes sin, it condemns evil, and it opens the only path to forgiveness. Secondly, Jesus says the cross will defeat the enemy, verse 31, the second half of verse 31. Now the ruler of this world will be cast out. Here Jesus is talking about Satan, the enemy of God and the deceiver of humanity.

For centuries, Satan has held the world under his influence, blinding hearts, fueling rebellion, and using death as his greatest weapon to provoke God’s people. But at the cross, the weapon is actually turned against Satan. What looks like Satan’s moment of triumph is actually his downfall. The very death he helped orchestrate becomes the means of his own defeat. When Jesus dies and rises again, he shatters the enemy’s hold over sin and death forever. Through the cross, the grip of hell is broken. The accuser’s voice is silenced, and the serpent’s head is crushed beneath the heel of the risen king. So when Jesus says, now will the ruler of this world be cast out, he’s announcing the beginning of the end for evil. So the cross is not just forgiveness for sinners, it’s the overthrow of Satan’s kingdom. And though the enemy still prowls around today, his doom has already been sealed.

The decisive victory has been won by Jesus, not by force, but by sacrifice. That’s the paradox of the cross. The Son of God conquers death and our greatest enemy by way of death. Number three, the cross will draw the nations, verse 32. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself. When Jesus says lifted up from the earth, there’s a little bit of wordplay happening here. He’s referring both to being lifted up on a cross to die, and being lifted up in glory to reign. That same event that looks like humiliation will in reality be his exaltation. So here Jesus shifts from judgment and victory to invitation. He’s revealing that the cross will become the great magnet of God’s mercy. The place where he draws people from every tribe, every tongue, and every nation to himself. And this is the beauty of the gospel.

That through one act of supreme agony, Christ opens the door for people from every nation to share in his glory. It’s glorious. Family, this is why we preach. This is why we share the gospel with our unbelieving friends and neighbors. This is why we send, and this is why we go. Because the Savior who was lifted up still draws hearts to himself today. The cross accentuates the paradox of glory. That death brings life. That humiliation brings exaltation. And that agony gives birth to glory. So the cross is proof that agony and glory can coexist and even feed one another. So family, when your life feels caught between pain and purpose, or between the cost of obedience and the hope for reward, remember this scene here. This is the hour when heaven thunders its approval over the son who drank the cup of God’s wrath. And it’s this hour that redefines every single storm that will ever come against you in this

The Light

life. Your agony, brothers and sisters, can be at the same time glory if you ask God to shift your perspective. Scene two, the light. We see this in verses 34 through 36. As the echo of the Father’s voice fades, the crowd responds kind of like theologians clinging to a system that can’t make sense of the cross. In verse 34, look at how they present this kind of theological confusion. We’ve heard from the law that the Christ remains forever. How can you say the Son of Man must be lifted up? So what this tells us is that the people in the crowd knew their Bibles. They could quote the prophets. They could recite the promises of the Messiah from memory just like that. They knew to ask Jesus this question. And in some ways, they were right. Because the scriptures did say that the Christ will reign forever.

But in some ways, they got it wrong. Even though they had the right text, they drew the wrong conclusion. Because their theology left no room for suffering. They wanted a king without a cross so they could interpret the words while missing the Word made flesh standing right in front of them. Which just goes to show you that you can know a lot of things about God. You can have a really robust theology and not actually know God. Did you know that? That’s not just their problem. That’s a warning for us too. You can know the scriptures and you could still miss the Savior standing right in front of you. You can master theology and still misunderstand grace. I see this all the time. You can defend orthodoxy and still deny the one it’s all about. Family, it is possible to be biblically informed but spiritually blind.

To have a head full of truth and a heart untouched by it. That’s exactly what’s happening here. They wanted glory without agony, triumph without suffering, and a crown without thorns. Again, we’ve seen this over and over again. They wanted a king who would crush Rome, not a redeemer who would be crushed for sin. They can’t make sense of it. And in their obsession with power, they misunderstand the scriptures and miss the humility of God. The very thing that would save them was the very thing they despised. But I want you to notice the heart of Jesus here. He doesn’t argue or debate their poor theology. He simply invites. Look at verse 35. So Jesus said to them, the light is among you for a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you. You can almost hear the compassion in his voice.

It’s the same voice that once powerfully stilled the storms. The voice that called Lazarus out of the tomb. But now it’s a voice that gently pleads with the people not to waste their chance. He tells them in verse 36, while you have the light, believe in the light. And this really is the final invitation before the darkness of betrayal, arrest, and crucifixion. And then John writes something haunting after this invitation. At the end of verse 36, listen to what he writes. When Jesus had said these things, he departed and hid himself from them. Now, when we read our Bibles, we often look right past these kinds of details or commentary. But family, this is not just movement, Jesus moving away. This is packed with meaning. Remember how John began his gospel by telling us that Jesus is the light of the world. Well here, John tells us that same light of the world withdrew.

The light that came to shine in the darkness now hides himself from those who refuse to see it. This is a visual picture of a spiritual reality. When people reject the light long enough, the light eventually departs. Which tells us, though Jesus is a loving God and welcomes sinners, grace has a window. And that window won’t stay open forever. So this is not only judgment of Jesus withdrawing, it’s actually heartbreak. The one who came to be seen by the world is now unseen. And it’s a sobering reminder for us all. That spiritual opportunity doesn’t last forever. That conviction can fade. That God’s voice can grow faint, not because he’s not speaking clearly, but because we’re not listening. So friend, if you’re here this morning and you don’t consider yourself a Christian, please hear his invitation this morning. Don’t let the light pass you by. Don’t assume you’ll always feel what you’re feeling right now.

The same voice calling you in mercy today will one day speak in judgment. So you must hide yourself in him while there’s still mercy. Jesus is saying, while you have the light, believe in the light. He’s offering you himself. He offers forgiveness for every sin that you’ve committed, the freedom of all of your shame that you’ve carried because of your sin, and a place in his family. And the truth is, you don’t have to do anything to clean yourself up, to kind of earn your way to him. You heard his invitation. Simply come, come into the light, come to the one who took your darkness upon himself so that you could walk in his light forever. The time to respond is now. The window of grace will not always be open. Because the same Jesus who invites you today will one day return to judge the world.

The Rejection

Hide in him while it’s safe. For now, the grace of this invitation still stands open. And if you want to know what it means to be a Christian, to follow Jesus, or what does it mean to walk in the light, or come to the light, talk to any member of this church and they would love to talk to you about that. Don’t leave today. Today is the day of salvation. Talk to any member of this church and they will help you. Amen? Scene three, the rejection. We see this in verses 37 through 43. There’s a crazy heaviness in John’s tone in this section here. It’s almost as if he pauses before writing these words. In verse 37 he says, though he had done so many signs before them, they still did not believe him. Here he’s not speaking of a few skeptics on the fringe of Jesus’ public ministry.

He’s describing the nation. The people who had seen more of God’s power than any generation before them. They saw the blind receive sight. They saw the lame walk, the lepers cleansed. They even saw the dead raised. They saw all of those things and still they turned away, which means their unbelief wasn’t due to a lack of evidence. In other words, believing isn’t an intellectual problem. It’s a moral one. It was the hardness of their heart that prefers the darkness to light. It’s exactly what Jesus already said in John three. The people love the darkness rather than the light because their deeds are evil. Family, when you boil it down, unbelief is not simply a misunderstanding of reality. It is rebellion. It’s rebellion. It’s the refusal to see what is right in front of you because seeing it for what it is requires surrendering to it.

So John gives us commentary and he anchors their blindness in scripture. He quotes Isaiah twice, first from Isaiah 53 and then from Isaiah six, showing that even this rejection was part of God’s divine plan. He says, Lord, who has believed what he has heard from us? Isaiah said he has blinded their eyes and hardened their hearts. Now, listen, I know that sounds severe. It almost sounds cruel that God would harden the hearts of people and close their eyes. But what John is describing here from Isaiah isn’t God arbitrarily denying faith. It’s God confirming a decision that’s already been made in the human heart. It’s divine judgment for letting sinners have what they insist on wanting. Paul says this. Paul says it this way in Romans chapter one, verses twenty four through twenty six. Therefore, God gave them up in the lust of their hearts to impurity.

For this reason, God gave them up to dishonorable passions. In other words, when people continually reject God’s light, he eventually gives them over to the darkness they’ve already chosen. So it’s not God preventing faith. It’s God handing people over to their unbelief. That’s what makes this moment so heartbreaking. The light has shined. Jesus has proven himself with signs. They’ve spoken his work. The Son has come. And yet the people still refuse him. This is the tragedy of unbelief. The pain of watching grace extended to a desperate people and refused and resisted the sorrow of a God who stretches out his hands all day long to a disobedient people who says, no, I’m good. I like the darkness. And yet even in this glory or this agony, there is glory. John says in verse forty one, listen, Isaiah said these things because he saw his glory

and spoke of him. He’s referring to here is the glory that Isaiah saw before Jesus enters human history. The glory he saw with his own eyes, the glory that filled the temple, the glory that made angels cry, holy, holy, holy. The glory was the glory of Christ. It was the glory of the pre incarnate Jesus, the same Jesus who now stands in Jerusalem offering himself to the world is the Lord that Isaiah saw high and lifted up. And that means the rejection of Jesus is not a disruption of God’s plan. It was the fulfillment of it. Even the blindness of the people magnifies the brilliance of divine sovereignty. The agony of unbelief serves the glory of redemption. Because it was through the rejection. That salvation would come to the nations, you understand that the king rejected by his people would soon be lifted up for all people, the hardening of Israel would open the door

of mercy to the Gentiles, that’s you and me. So that those who have never seen might see and those who have never known might believe. So even in rejection, God is not losing control. He’s unfolding his glory. And then John moves from the blindness of the nation to the silence of individuals. We see this in verse 42, nevertheless, many, even of the authorities believed in him. But for fear of the Pharisees, they did not confess it. So there were some men who seemed to have some authority, perhaps religious leaders like Nicodemus or Joseph of Arimathea, who believed in secret. We know they believed in some sense, because after Jesus dies on the cross, before he is raised, both of those men who were religious leaders make their way to the tomb to anoint Jesus with spices for burial. But in this hour, these religious leaders who were convinced that Jesus was who he claimed

to be, they decided to stay in the shadows. They kept their faith private because the cost of confession was too high. John tells us this in verse 43, they loved the glory that comes from man more than the glory that comes from God. And that verse is kind of a haunting verse if you think about it. The same word glory or doxa that describes God’s majestic glory now describes the praise of people. In other words, they traded the infinite glory of God for the temporary glory of people, the radiance of God for the spotlight of men. And here again, agony and glory meet, but this time it’s actually inverted. While Jesus is about to endure agony to glorify the father, these religious leaders avoid agony to glorify themselves. Jesus will embrace suffering to magnify his father’s name, and these religious leaders will avoid suffering to protect their own reputation and privilege.

It’s like a great reversal here. The son’s humility against man’s pride. And listen, it’s easy to look at them in disdain, but the truth is we understand them. The fear of rejection and the love of the approval from people, these are familiar chains for us. We feel this. We often fear what people will think about us when we speak too boldly about Jesus. Or if we identify too closely with Jesus and his church, or if we confess too publicly that Jesus is Lord. But family, listen, faith that never confesses is not a faith that saves. Faith that hides itself eventually withers away in the darkness. And what that means is that we were not meant to admire Jesus quietly. We were meant to put our faith on display. So despite what people say, that we should, you know, keep our faith private like we do

our politics. No, we boldly declare Jesus as Lord. This is the agony of obedience, the cost of faithfulness at the risk of rejection. But family, public obedience is the very pathway to glory. So John holds up two kinds of blindness, one that refuses to see and one that sees but refuses to speak, but both lead to darkness and both fall short of the light. But again, even in this darkness, glory shines. The blindness of Israel and the silence of the religious rulers, none of this disrupts God’s plan. The same God who hardens hearts also opens eyes. The same God who ordains rejection also redeems through it. And the same Jesus who was despised and forsaken will soon be lifted up in glory. That’s the tension of this whole gospel, the agony of unbelief and the glory of grace. The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

The Summons

Lastly, scene four, the summons. We see this in verses 44 through 50. This here is the final cry of Jesus’ public ministry before the passion. And again, it’s this voice that’s filled with both glory and agony. John tells us that Jesus cried out, which means he wasn’t calm about it and it wasn’t like an indifferent kind of expression. It was a voice of urgency. Believe. Walk in the light while there’s still time. And to be clear, this is not an invitation. This is a summons. You know the difference between an invitation and a summons? An invitation is something that you can reject with no consequences. Sorry, can’t go to that party. Nope. A summons you cannot reject, at least not without severe consequences. Maybe not in Portland, but in other cities, you know, you refuse a summons to go to court, there are severe consequences there.

And in his cry, in this summons, we hear both agony and glory because Jesus knows what’s coming, the rejection, betrayal, the silence of his father, the full weight of wrath that he alone will endure. That’s right before him. He knows what’s about to happen. And it provokes this urgent call, believe. Walk in the light while there’s still time. That’s the agony of divine love. The willingness to keep reaching for those who keep running away from him. Even knowing that the crowd will soon turn against him. He doesn’t withdraw. He cries out again, believe, because his heart still burns with compassion. This is the Jesus we worship, family. Our compassionate high king who chases down sinners. Family, this is what divine glory looks like, not an indifferent or disconnected God that demands spiritual work for you to earn his approval, but a loving God who refuses to

stop speaking and calling. He has come as light so that no one has to remain in the darkness. So it’s a call of rescue, not of condemnation. You understand that? It’s like someone drowning in deep water, flailing, gasping, going under the water. And from the shore, someone throws a lifeline, shouting, grab it, take hold of it, or you’ll drown. That’s not judgment. That’s mercy. The one shouting is not trying to condemn, he’s trying to save. That’s what Jesus is doing here. He’s not standing at the edge of our ruin, pointing out every single failure. He’s throwing a lifeline of grace and saying, take hold of me and live. Verse 49, Jesus makes it clear that he’s not just speaking on his own. Some rabbi. He speaks with the full authority of his father. Every command, every promise, every summons comes directly from the father himself.

But the one who speaks with the authority of the father, with compassion, will soon stay silent in obedience. And that obedience will open the way for eternal life to everyone who believes in him. This is the moment where agony and glory come together. The world that Jesus created rejects him, yet he still chooses to love it and die for it. He takes on the wrath that we deserve, and he does it with joy. The light of the world will seem to go out, but that light will never die. This is the heart of Jesus. The same voice that spoke the world into existence pleads, pleads to the world to be saved. Take hold of him. Walk in the light. This is God’s heart, both breaking and burning with love at the same time. And that same cry still echoes today. Listen, Jesus is still calling people to be saved, to grab hold of that lifeline, to walk

in the life. You want to know how he’s doing it? Through the church. Through the church. We are now the voice and his light in a dark world, throwing lifelines to drowning people. It’s so much more than showing up on a Sunday morning. It’s going into the world, summoning people, come, come. By carrying his light, family, for being honest, it comes with suffering. It means speaking the truth even when it’s unpopular. Loving people even when they reject us, and you know how hard it is to do that? To be hated for loving people? But this is what Jesus has called the church to do. No matter how hard it is, we must be willing to carry those wounds. Because one day, those wounds will become marks of grace. Because in God’s kingdom, pain is never wasted. It’s part of his plan for glory. And everyone who shares in his suffering will also share in his glory.

The Final Word

2 Corinthians 4.17 reminds us, for this light, momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison. So we can deal with any suffering, or any rejection we face, if the world hates us for what we tell them, for the sake of the gospel, because it will point to glory. Amen? Family, as we close, I want to, in a few moments, lift our eyes to see the end of the story. As though agony and glory can coexist now, we see this, the agony of the cross doesn’t have the final word. Glory does. John, the same apostle who wrote these words, later wrote of a vision he saw in Revelation 5. And in his vision, he saw the throne room of heaven, where our King Jesus is seated. And at the center, he writes this. This is what he sees. I saw a lamb standing as though it had been slain.

In other words, the one who bore our sin still bears the mark of his suffering. But this time, there’s no more mockery. There’s no more darkness. There’s no more hiding. There’s only glory. When heaven sees Jesus, they erupt in worship, and listen to what they say. Worthy is the lamb who was slain, to receive power, and wealth, and wisdom, and might, and honor, and glory, and blessing. Do you hear it, saints? The agony that once filled the garden now fills eternity with praise. The cross that looked like defeat has become the symbol of victory. The wounds that once bled judgment now shines with glory. And one day, that same Jesus, the light of the world, will return. Not to plead with sinners, but to reign with his saints. Not as a suffering servant, but as a conquering king, where he will rule with no more sorrow,

with no more pain, no more suffering, and no more agony. So until that day comes, family, walk in the light while we have it. Carry the cross he has given you into a dark and broken world. And let your life, even in suffering, echo Jesus’ prayer. Father, glorify your name, because the lamb who was slain is worthy. And the day is coming when our faith will give way to sight, when agony will be swallowed up in glory, and when every voice will cry together, worthy is the lamb. Amen?