Love Redefined: Glory in the Shadow of Betrayal

Transcript

Good morning. Good to see you, Craig. Yeah. Well, family, if you’d be so kind as to turn with me in your Bibles to the Gospel of John, chapter 13. This morning we’re going to be looking at verses 31 through 35.

When he had gone out, Jesus said, Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him. If God is glorified in me, God will also glorify him in himself and glorify him at once. Little children, yet a little while I am with you. You will seek me, and just as I said to the Jews, so now I also say to you, where I am going you cannot come. A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this, all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another

— John 13

(ESV)

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This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. Let’s pray and ask for the Lord’s help. Father, we do thank you for your word. We thank you that you speak. That you care. We thank you that you give us eyes to see the truth because of the spirit within us. And so, Father, this morning we posture ourselves in deep dependence. That you would open up our eyes to the truth contained in your word. And that as a result of seeing the love of the Father and the love of Jesus, we might be compelled to obey your command to love one another. We pray these things in Christ’s name. Amen.

The Weight of Betrayal

The day I turned 40 years old, I heard something that I had never heard from the mouth of any man in my life. Not from my father, not from my stepfather, but from my pastor. A man who over time had become something of a spiritual father to me. It was my 40th birthday and we were in a room full of friends and loved ones. Some of you are here this morning, we’re at that event. When he reached into his pocket, unfolded a piece of paper, and began to read some thoughts about me that he had prepared to express publicly. When he had finished reading the letter, he looked me in the eye in front of everyone in the room and said something I didn’t even know I needed to hear. He said, I love you. And he didn’t say it flippantly or casually, he said it with weight.

With clarity, with intention, and with presence. And for the first time, something in my soul shifted. You see, because of my child wounds that I carried from my father and my stepfather, I had built up walls around my heart. Especially when it came to men. I built a kind of shell for my soul to protect me from pain. But after hearing those words, I began slowly and cautiously to live outside the shell. To open my heart. To risk receiving something that every man longs for. The affection of a father figure. And it wasn’t just the words that changed me. It was the care behind them. And the consistency and the counsel. The quiet and steady presence that gave those words all of their weight. And so despite my best defenses, I trusted him. Fully and completely. And then just one year later came the blind side.

The man who once said, I love you, wounded me in a way I could never have anticipated. I mean, I just learned to live outside the shell. I finally opened my heart. And that’s when I was pierced. Not by an enemy. But by someone I called family. Someone who had become in every way a spiritual father to me. Now, listen. I don’t say this story. I don’t share this story for sympathy. God has mended those wounds in a thousand ways. In fact, on the other side of it, it’s clear. God has used that betrayal to make me a better man. To make me a better husband. To make me a better father and a more careful pastor. I share this story because having walked with many of you, and heard many of your stories, I know I’m not alone. Many of you have known betrayal.

And for some, the betrayal you’ve experienced has been far worse than mine. But in the aftermath of my own betrayal, I’ve wrestled with a question I imagine many of you have asked. Why is it that those who profess to love us most deeply are sometimes the ones who wound us most profoundly? I think the answer, at least in part, is this. Betrayal in all of its forms is rooted in misaligned love. It’s not that people don’t love. It’s that the loyalty of their love is misguided. Something eclipses their profession of love for a greater love. People betray because they love something else more than they love you. Or they love themselves more than they love you. And when the opportunity arises, whether to gain something, to protect something, or to preserve something, they choose that over the very ones they profess to love.

And the result is deep betrayal. And deep heartache. And it’s not just the act of betrayal itself that wounds. It’s the pain of who is behind those wounds. You see, betrayal doesn’t land the same way when it comes from a stranger. It stings, for sure. But it’s not personal. But when it comes from someone you’ve known, someone who’s looked you in the eyes and said, I love you, or I’ll never leave you, only to walk away, or worse, to turn on you, those wounds don’t just scrape the surface. They slice the soul. And family, as heavy as that reality is, as painful and disorienting it is to be betrayed by someone we once loved, imagine the weight that Jesus carries in John 13. This isn’t just a betrayal. It is the betrayal. And its weight is so heavy that no human could ever fully bear it.

Because when we’re betrayed, we’re blindsided. We didn’t see it coming. We assumed a love that wasn’t there. We, for a season, believed and trusted that they loved us. Though we misread the signs, we didn’t know what we didn’t know. But Jesus is not like us. He is the all-knowing Son of God. He sees every heart. He knows every motive. So there’s no surprise in His betrayal, only perfect clarity. He knew all humanity would betray Him before we were born, and before He came to the earth. So Judas’ kiss wasn’t a shock to Jesus. And Peter’s denial wasn’t hidden from Jesus. Every fracture in every human heart that leads to betrayal is known to Him in full, and He feels the full weight of it. Which means His grief runs deeper and wider than ours ever could. In this scene, in the fullness of His humanity,

Jesus walks into the final hours of His life, not only facing a brutal crucifixion, but carrying the deepest degree of sorrow because of betrayal. And not from strangers. Not from soldiers or Pharisees, but from two men He had chosen, discipled, fed, walked with, and loved deeply. Judas, who witnessed the miracles, shared the meals, and heard the parables, came to love money and politics more than His Messiah. His love and loyalty were bent towards a revolutionary king, someone who would overthrow Rome and fill his pockets. But when Jesus didn’t serve those purposes, Judas sold Him out for 30 pieces of silver. And Peter, bold, outspoken, seemingly loyal, he crumbled under pressure. Not because he didn’t love Jesus, but because he loved himself more. He didn’t sell out for coins, he sold out for comfort. Not for wealth, but out of fear. Fear of the crowd, fear of being identified,

fear of losing control. On both sides of the upper room, on both sides of Jesus, are two betrayals, two men with misaligned loves. And it’s between these two betrayals, between Judas slipping into the night, and Peter swearing that he’d die for Jesus just before denying Him, that Jesus speaks these words. And what He says in that sacred space is not bitterness. It’s not self-protection or despair. It’s glory, it’s departure, it’s a new command, and above all, it’s love. Right there in the shadow of betrayal, Jesus reveals the very heart of God. And in so doing, He doesn’t just expose the sins of Judas and Peter, He exposes the root beneath them all. Misaligned love. Because that’s where betrayal always begins. Which means this isn’t just a narrative that we’re meant to simply observe. It’s an invitation to respond, to examine our own hearts. Where do we love wrongly?

What rules my affections? Have I traded loyalty for comfort? Have I betrayed Jesus with silence, comparison, or compromise? Because every betrayal, whether public or private, is born from some kind of disordered love. But Jesus, in response to these two betrayals, in the center of these betrayal bookends, He doesn’t retaliate, He doesn’t withdraw, and He doesn’t build walls to protect Himself. Instead, He uses the pain of betrayal to teach something beautiful. That love is the distinguishing feature of this new covenant community that He’s created. A community not shaped by all the superficial ways that’s spoken of in our culture these days. Not a community shaped by performance, or pride, or identity, or self-preservation, but by reoriented love. Love that flows not from self, but from the cross. Love that moves towards people, not away from them. And love that tells the truth about who He is and what He’s done,

The Glory of Love

and a love that goes all the way to the end. So chapter 13 doesn’t just reveal betrayal. It invites transformation. It invites us to align our hearts, to reshape our loves, to re-center our lives on the kind of love that Jesus displays, so that it spills out into our community and into the world. And so to help us walk through this passage, we’ll follow it across four scenes. The glory of love, the grief of love, the gift of love, and the goal of love. So let’s begin with the first scene, the glory of love in verses 31 and 32. When He had gone out, Jesus said, now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in Him. If God is glorified in Him, God will also glorify Him in Himself and glorify Him at once. Okay, so the first thing I want you to notice

is the timing of Jesus’ words here. Jesus doesn’t speak these words after the resurrection. He doesn’t wait for the stone to be rolled away. He doesn’t wait for the skies to split open and receive an angelic announcement. He speaks the moment Judas walks out the door, while the betrayal is still fresh, while the dagger is just being drawn before the cross and before the grave. So it’s not only what Jesus says, but when He says it. Humanly speaking, we wouldn’t expect these specific words that Jesus says now. Not yet. Not in the moment of unraveling. We expect glory to come after vindication, after the enemies are defeated, after the suffering is over. But Jesus says now is the Son of Man glorified. Now? In this moment of abandonment and darkness? Now, when a friend has just become a traitor? Now, when sorrow is just beginning to unfold?

Yes. Now. You see, this little word isn’t just a time stamp. It’s a theological declaration. Jesus is saying glory isn’t delayed until the resurrection. It begins here, in the shadow of betrayal, in the stillness of suffering, in the surrender of the coming cross. Because in the kingdom of God, glory doesn’t come after pain is avoided. It comes when pain is embraced through obedience. This is not the glory we’re used to. The glory of applause, of victory. It’s the glory of agony. It’s not the glory of strength, but of sacrifice. Jesus doesn’t turn away from the suffering. He walks towards it. His eyes are fixed, His heart is resolved, and His hands are open. In the other Gospel accounts, we see Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, wrestling, sweating blood, pleading with the Father that this cup would pass from Him. So you know this was a very painful experience for Jesus.

But here in John’s Gospel, the resolve is set. The decision is made. And what looks like a loss to the world, betrayal, blood, crucifixion, is, in this very moment, the display of divine love in full. Family, despite your presuppositions about love, this is exactly what love looks like. Not self-preservation, but self-giving. Not comfort, but crucifixion. Not abandonment of sinners, but atonement for sinners. Judas walks away into the night, ready to betray Him. Peter professes deep loyalty, but will run when the heat comes. And Jesus calls it glory. Now why does He say that? Why does Jesus link glory to this hour of betrayal? And why does He say that now the Son of Man is glorified? Well, I think to understand this, you have to understand how Jesus viewed His mission. And to do that, you have to go back to this vision from the prophet Daniel in the book of Daniel.

Listen to what Daniel prophesied roughly 500 years before Jesus enters this scene. Daniel 7 verses 13 and 14 says,

I saw in the night visions, and behold, with the clouds of heaven, there came one like a Son of Man. And He came to the Ancient of Days and was presented before Him. And to Him was given dominion and glory and a kingdom that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve Him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and His kingdom one that shall not be destroyed

— Daniel 7

(ESV)

. Daniel’s vision testifies to the faithfulness of the Father’s promises across centuries. Jesus says now is the Son of Man glorified. When He says that, He is activating a vision that has lingered in prophetic suspense for over 500 years. The clouds, the dominion, the kingdom, the glory, Daniel saw it all, and now Jesus walks into it.

This is glory and dominion that’s promised to Jesus, the Son of Man. And Jesus is stepping right into it. This is the moment it begins, which means what looks like chaos isn’t actually chaos. This betrayal isn’t an accident. It’s not a disruption of the plan. It is the plan. Divinely orchestrated, sovereignly timed, perfectly held together by the will of the Father who always keeps His word, using the betrayal for the most beautiful thing we could ever imagine. So when Jesus calls Himself the Son of Man, He’s not just being poetic here. He’s anchoring His entire mission in the eternal promise of Daniel 7. This was Israel’s long-anticipated hope, a divine king, a heavenly son, one who would receive an everlasting kingdom, crowned by the Father, the Ancient of Days. This is why on the edge of betrayal, in the shadow of suffering, Jesus says now

is the Son of Man glorified. The reason He says now in the thick of betrayal is because the path to that everlasting dominion doesn’t bypass pain. It runs straight through it. Before the crown, there must be the cross. Before the throne, there must be thorns. Before exaltation, there must be execution. This is how the Son of Man receives His kingdom, not through force, but through faithfulness. Not by crushing enemies, but by being crushed for them. You remember what Jesus said back in John 12, verses 23 through 24?

The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it bears much fruit

— John 12

(ESV)

. Glory. That’s the pattern. Glory through death. Life through loss. Beauty through betrayal. Victory through vulnerability. And that’s what’s unfolding here.

And what is incredible about what’s unfolding here is this amazing moment between the Father and the Son. Jesus says, if God is glorified in Him, God will also glorify Him in Himself and glorify Him at once. Now to understand what’s fully going on here, you have to know that word if, in this sentence, if God is glorified in Him, is better translated since. So this isn’t hypothetical. It’s not Jesus wondering how the Father might respond if I give Him glory. It’s not uncertainty or conditional. It’s settled. Since the Son glorifies the Father through obedience, even obedience unto death, the Father will glorify the Son in return. So this is not wishful thinking. This is covenant confidence. There is a deep reciprocal love between the Father and the Son, and it’s in that love that glory is revealed. So Jesus speaks of glory before His mission is complete.

He hasn’t yet been crucified. He hasn’t been raised yet. He hasn’t ascended, and still He says, now is the Son of Man glorified. Why? Because in the divine economy of time, the faithfulness of the Father is so fixed, so trustworthy, and so guaranteed that Jesus can speak of His glorification in the present tense. This is the already and not yet of glory. Already because the cross has been embraced in His heart and obedience has been set in motion. Not yet because the full radiance of the resurrection and reign is still to come. Jesus knows the Father will carry Him all the way from the garden to Golgotha, from the tomb to the throne, and that’s why He can speak with such certainty because the glory of the Son is not up for debate. It’s the settled outcome of the Father’s eternal plan. A plan that will not fail.

Not in betrayal, not in death, not in the grave. So when Jesus says, now is the Son of Man glorified, He is showing us the path of glory is already underway. And nothing, not even death can stop it. Judas can’t stop it. Peter’s denial can’t stop it. And that’s what makes this moment so filled with glory. The perfect love of the Father is put on full display as Jesus moves into His betrayal and cross to put love on full display. It’s the same love the Father expressed when He split the heavens open at Jesus’ baptism and said, this is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased. The Father shows His love and affirmation to the Son before the Son sets His face toward the cross. It’s the same love Jesus remembered in John 17, 5 in His high priestly prayer, Father, glorify me in Your own presence

with the glory that I had with You before the world existed. So this love isn’t delayed. It’s not detached from pain. It’s immediate, it’s eternal, and it’s completely trustworthy. And that’s why Jesus can face betrayal without flinching because the Father’s love will not fail. He is secure in His identity. He is grounded in the glory of the triune God. And He is certain that even as He walks towards agony, He will be in the arms of the Father who’s waiting on the other side to give Him glory. And brothers and sisters, what this means for us, if Jesus trusted the promises and faithfulness of the Father, if He could walk into the darkness believing that glory awaited Him on the other side, it means so can we. Because the same Father who glorified the Son has promised to glorify all who are in the Son.

That’s you and me. We may not always see it. We may not always feel it, but the cross, if it teaches us anything, teaches us this. Suffering is not the end of the story. Glory is. Romans 8, 17, and 18 says,

We are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with Him in order that we may be glorified with Him. For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us

— Romans 8

(ESV)

. Family, this is the promise. If we suffer with Him, we will be glorified with Him. If we carry our cross, we will share in His crown. Because the faithfulness of the Father never fails. So just as Jesus could say, Now is the Son of Man glorified, even in the midst of betrayal and suffering,

The Grief of Love

we too can walk through dark valleys with confidence, knowing that the joy of our future glory awaits us. Scene 2, the grief of love. Verse 33, Little children, yet a little while I am with you, you will seek me, and just as I said to the Jews, so now I say to you, where I am going you cannot come. Before we dive too deep into this scene, I don’t want you to just pass over those first words. Because these are very tender words from Jesus. You have to remember, Jesus knows that every single one of those disciples in that upper room will fall away. In fact, Matthew 26, verse 31, Jesus said to these very same men, You will all fall away because of me this night. And knowing that every single one will fall away, He opens this scene with these words, Little children.

And to be clear, it’s not a term of condescension, it’s a term of affection. It’s a fatherly term. It’s a shepherding word, and in this moment it’s especially powerful because the disciples have no idea what’s coming next. They literally have no idea. They have no grid for a crucified Messiah. And Jesus, knowing that the cross is only hours away, He begins preparing their hearts for what’s about to happen. Yet a little while I am with you. And when Jesus says this, it probably landed like thunder on these men. They’ve been there with Him now for, what, three years? He’s been their anchor, their rabbi, their friend, their Lord. They’ve eaten meals together. They’ve fellowshiped. They’ve walked on dusty roads together. They’ve had unlimited access to Him. They’ve watched Him raise the dead, feed the hungry, rebuke demons, and preach the gospel. With Him they felt safe and secure.

And now He’s leaving? And not only is He leaving, but they can’t follow Him. Over the last three years, all they’ve known is following Jesus. And this is the first real crack in the emotional foundation of the upper room. I mean, Jesus had hinted before that the hour was coming. He’s told them about His death. They probably didn’t get it. But now it’s not a parable. It’s personal. Where I am going, you cannot come. These are words of sorrow. It’s the grief of separation because of love. But as painful as these words are to hear, they reveal something essential. That the disciples are about to enter a season where their faith must learn to live without sight. Jesus is going where they cannot follow for now. This echoes what He said earlier to the religious leaders in John 7 and 8. But there’s a huge difference

between those religious leaders and what He means with His disciples. When He told the Jews they couldn’t follow, it was a word of judgment. But here, when He tells His disciples they can’t follow, it’s a word of preparation. He isn’t cutting them off. He’s actually cultivating their faith. And this points to something deeply theological. Jesus isn’t just telling them that He’s going to die. He’s preparing them to understand that His absence will not be abandonment. That the cross is not the end. That faith will be required. Real, spirit-dependent, word-saturated faith. They will look for Him. They will long for Him. And though they might not see Him with their own eyes, they must not lose heart. Because the grief of this separation is not the end of the story. It’s the seed of something new. Later in John 16, 7, and we’ll see this in a few weeks

or maybe a few months, depending on how quickly we move through it, Jesus will say, to your advantage that I go away. And why does He say this? Because only through the cross can He send the Holy Spirit. Only through His departure can resurrection life truly begin to bear on the life of the believer. Only by going can He prepare a way for something greater. But in this moment, the disciples don’t see that. All they hear is, I’m leaving, and you can’t come with me. And so with eyes unable to see the greater realities of their Lord, it feels like abandonment. And when He did leave, it probably triggered more feelings of abandonment with these disciples. I wonder how many of us feel that same kind of grief in our walk with Jesus. Maybe you’ve walked through a season where God felt distant from you.

Or where the nearness that you once experienced has faded. Where you kept praying and asking God to show up, but for whatever reason His presence felt far from you. If that’s where you are this morning, sitting in a season of silence, confusion, loss, or betrayal, you feel like because you can’t see Him in your trouble, then He’s abandoned you? Hear this. The absence of sight is not the absence of God. The fact that you can’t see Him doesn’t mean He’s left you. In fact, it’s the very reason you can be comforted. Because if Jesus had not gone, if He did not leave, He could not have sent the Comforter, the Holy Spirit, who now dwells in every single believer. So His physical absence is not a sign of distance, but the guarantee that His nearness is present through the Spirit. Not only does He come alongside,

but He dwells within. Which means you’re never really alone, despite how you might feel. Even when you feel abandoned, even when you feel the silence, Jesus didn’t just promise to be near, He sent His very Spirit to remain. And this comfort doesn’t just offer us generic encouragement. He brings His very presence and power into your pain. He helps you pray when your words fail. He strengthens you when grief feels too heavy to bear. He reminds you of what’s true for your heart when you’re confused. He assures you that even when you don’t understand what God is doing, you are still held in the grip of His grace. And not only do we have the Spirit in us, we have a Savior who is for us, who knows what it’s like to suffer, to be betrayed, to feel abandoned. Hebrews 4.15 says, for we do not have a high priest,

meaning Jesus, who is unable to sympathize with our weakness. Jesus is not distant from your pain. He walked through it Himself. So the Spirit walks with you, the Son intercedes for you, and the Father holds you, which means even when you feel like Jesus is gone, He’s actually closer than you think. So take heart, dear brother and sister. His absence is not abandonment, it’s preparation for a deeper presence. Because in the misery of your suffering, when nothing makes sense, and when your heart feels raw, and your prayers feel weak, you have help. You have comfort. You have a Savior who understands in every single way, and a Spirit who will never leave you. So when He says, little children, yet a little while I am with you, He’s not saying goodbye. He’s inviting you to trust Him. To believe He is near, even when you can’t feel Him.

To believe He’s working, even when you can’t see Him. Because faith is not just believing that Jesus is God, it’s believing that Jesus is near. It’s trusting that He draws near to the brokenhearted. That He walks with you even in the shadows. You know, family, the Christian life is not one long mountaintop Christian experience, full of joys. There are valleys, deep valleys. Any Christian who’s been a Christian for any length of time knows this. Moments where silence screams. Where you wonder if He still hears your voice. When the pain makes you question His presence, but family, even in the deep valleys, Jesus speaks. Even in silence, His word sustains. He’s not left you. He sees you. He knows you, and He promises in John 14, 18, I will not leave you as orphans. I will come to you. So these words from Jesus are not

The Gift of Love

only preparing His disciples for His death, but inviting them and us into a deeper kind of trust. Scene three, the gift of love. Verse 34. A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another just as I have loved you. You also are to love one another. This moment here slices through the center of the upper room. Jesus here isn’t just commending love, but as Josh mentioned earlier, it’s actually commanding love. It’s not some vague or sentimental way of thinking. It’s not some kind of generic encouragement. This is not, you know, try to be nice to each other because I know it’s hard. It’s not, you know, try to get along. Like what we do with our boys all the time. This commandment is the foundation and the formation of a new covenant community of people who are to be marked not by their political allegiance,

not by cultural similarities or generational similarities, not by giftedness or status or success, but by love. And not just any kind of love—not Portland’s definition of love, not by the kind of love that’s defined by your personal interpretation of love, but as I have loved you. His love is the standard. This is the kind of love that had just bent low to wash the feet of his disciples. The kind of love that in only a few hours would be lifted up on a Roman cross and die a criminal’s death, even though he was innocent. The kind of love that pursues the unlovely, that forgives the unfaithful, that bleeds for the betrayers, that gives not because others deserve it, but because grace compels it. And listen, when Jesus says this is a new commandment, He doesn’t mean it’s the first time that love has been commanded.

Obviously, we’ve heard this before in the Old Testament. Leviticus 19, love your neighbor as yourself. So what’s new here is not the command to love, but the measure of love or the model of what that love should look like. It’s not new content, but a radically new standard. Love one another as I have loved you. That’s the newness. And here’s where this kind of love gets deeply theological. The love that Jesus commands of us, it’s not natural. It’s not sourced in sentimentality or sameness. It doesn’t rise out of personality or preference. This kind of love is in every way supernatural. It requires a new heart. It requires a spirit-filled life. It flows from the cross and is shaped by the cross. So what this means is that we can’t obey this command in the flesh. No matter how hard you try, you can’t do it.

We can’t produce it on our own. Only the one who has been loved like this can begin to love others like this. This is why we don’t just engage our world and tell them stupid things. Like, oh, you just got to love people and you’ll be fine with God. Just love more. No, we start by pointing to the love of Jesus. What He has done. We start with the gospel because apart from receiving that love, all other loves will be limited, shallow, and self-serving. When we see Jesus Christ crucified for us, when we behold the Son of God betrayed, beaten, and bloodied for our redemption, then our hearts are softened. Then we’re humbled. Then we begin to love, not just in theory, but in truth. And to be clear, this command is not simply an ethical command. This is eschatological, which is just a big way of saying

it belongs to the age to come. It’s a foretaste of what our life will be like in the new kingdom. Family, Jesus stands in the midst of betrayal and speaks of love because love is the foundation of this new community. A cross that forms it, shaped by mercy and defined by sacrificial love. And that’s not optional for the Christian. It’s the distinguishing feature. It’s the fruit of the new birth. So what this means, family, is that we shouldn’t reduce this love to a simple slogan or see this command to love the way the world sees it. Family, this love is a deep love. This is a blood-bought imperative for us. It’s a call to imitate our Redeemer in the way that we bear with one another, the way we speak to one another, the way we forgive one another, the way we serve one another

and give of ourselves sacrificially for one another. And when we don’t do it that way, it’s not a proper expression of the love God calls us to show. But when we do it this way, the Lord is pleased with us. But the truth is, loving this way is exceedingly costly. Loving like Jesus means laying down your personal preferences. It means carrying someone else’s burdens. It means pressing in when all you feel like doing is walking away. It means refusing to nurse bitterness or sowing seeds of division. It means dying to yourself daily for the good of your brothers and sisters. It means pushing in even when we feel betrayed. The reason we do all of this is so that our love becomes the evidence that we’ve been loved by God, which brings us to scene four, the goal of love. Verse 35, By this, all people will know that you are my disciples

The Goal of Love

if you have love for one another. Jesus ends this section with a statement that echoes throughout human history. By this, all people will know. Which means, not by our preaching skills will all people know. Not by our theological accuracy will all people know. Not by your attendance or your aesthetics or your strategy or your Spotify worship playlist that sounds so good when they sing on Sundays. But by your love. And what Jesus is saying here is that love is one of the greatest apologetics ever. It exceeds time. All other apologetics are couched in cultural understandings, philosophical arguments. Love transcends them all. And just to be clear, Jesus isn’t saying that our love replaces the gospel. He’s saying that our love reveals the gospel is true. It’s how people see the gospel at work. It’s how they taste the fruit of redemption. How they behold a Savior who reconciles enemies

and adopts orphans and makes a family out of complete strangers that otherwise would have nothing in common. Look around you. In what other context would we be getting along? Not very many. Our love for one another puts on display to a watching world that we’re different. That something supernatural binds us together. Which means love is not a sentimental idea. It’s a significant treasure family that needs to be protected at whatever cost necessary. Are you fighting to protect this treasure that God has lavishly given us? If you’re not fighting to protect this love, then you’re not concerned with protecting the witness of the gospel. And if you’re not concerned about the gospel, what are you even doing here? Why would you give up your Sundays to come here? There’s all kinds of good places to eat. When love dies in the church family, the credibility of the gospel dies with it.

When we slander, when we gossip, when we divide, when we hold grudges and rehearse offenses, when we value winning an argument more than loving our brother and sister, we lose our voice in this world. Not just in our community, you understand that. But when we love, when we forgive, when we repent, when we serve, when we cling to each other, when hardships come through misunderstanding, through differences and through pain, we say something to the watching world. We say, Jesus is alive. This is how all people will know. Not because we claim the name Christian, but because we carry the love of Christ into every relational interaction. And notice the scope of this statement. All people will know. What this means is that this love is not insular. It’s not tribal. It’s not contained into this small space inside our church walls. Yes, it begins in the church,

but it spills out into the culture, into our world. And this love becomes a beacon to the nations. It’s the kind of love that compels the confused and the cynical to say, whatever they have, I want it. Whatever changed them, I need it. The world is longing for this kind of love, and they’re looking in all these places to get it. In success, in hookup culture, in everything else this world has to offer, but they won’t find what they’re looking for. They can’t. So we bring this love to them. We put it on display. We showcase it to the watching world so they can see it and be enchanted by it. And by God’s grace, we pray that they would be sufficiently moved to embrace the gospel. Jesus is building a new humanity where Jews and Gentiles, rich and poor, introverts and extroverts, you hear that?

Artists and accountants come together under the blood of Jesus to form a new family marked by love. That’s the plan. That’s the strategy. And our love for one another is the megaphone for that mission. But here’s the thing. We can’t produce it on our own. So we must return again and again to the fountainhead of love, which is Jesus Christ. This is why we sing songs about the love of Jesus. Oh, the deep, deep love of Jesus. So that we can see it for what it is. So that we can live according to that paradigm. Lest we forget and start embracing the false ways our culture tells us to love people. Only when we are overwhelmed by His love can we begin to overflow with love. So Trinity Church, the question that I think this text demands of us this morning is this. Are we compelling anyone in our world

to wonder if Jesus is real? Is the way that we love each other strange according to the world’s paradigm? Is it uncommon? Is it crazy? Is it beautiful? Is it counter-cultural? Because if it’s not, we may be building a ministry while at the same time not bearing witness that Jesus is alive. So let’s be a people who love like we’ve been loved. So that the world might see that Christ is King, that the cross is sufficient, and that the tomb is empty. This is the love that caused for Jesus to break through the shadow of betrayal. It’s love redefined, a community reimagined, and a glory reframed. And listen, if we’re honest, again, none of us love like this, at least not consistently. Joshua’s right. The pastors do see a community of saints in this church who do love each other. But the truth is we don’t do it perfectly.

It’s messy. All of us have harbored Judas-like affections, loving control, or money, or power more than Christ. All of us have acted like Peter, bold in public, cowards in private, driven by self-love. We’ve all betrayed Jesus in more ways than we care to admit. And not just before we were saved, but after we were saved. Really, in our compromise, in our silence, and in our pride and self-protection, we’ve betrayed Jesus over and over again. And we’ve betrayed one another too, with the words we wish we could have taken back, with cold shoulders, broken trust, unkept promises. But family, here is the good news. Jesus was betrayed for betrayers, like you and me. He was pierced for the disloyal. He was deserted so that we could be welcomed as faithful. He was wounded so that he could bind up the wounds of those who caused them.

This is the beauty of the gospel. His love absorbs our failures. The cross cancels our debt. His blood makes room at the table for those who walked away. And that changes everything. Because grace doesn’t just cleanse us, it forms us. It reshapes the way we live with each other. It creates this new kind of community. Not based on compatibility, or shared opinions, or matching personalities, but on a shared redemption and love. A people who know what it’s like to be forgiven deeply. Who are learning to forgive in that same way. So when we fail him, and when we fail each other, and we will, we will all fail each other. We know where to go when we do. We run back to the throne of grace. We confess with honesty. We receive mercy without hesitation, and then we go to one another, and we don’t demand repayment,

but we extend the same forgiveness we’ve received. Because family, forgiven people forgive people. That’s what we do. We mess up all the time. And the Lord Jesus forgives us. And then he compels us to go to those people that we’ve sinned against, and seek their forgiveness, so that they might forgive us. In what other place in our world does that happen? We live in the midst of cancel culture. It doesn’t happen. It happens with gospel people. So we don’t carry our grudges into eternity, canceling people over what they’ve done. We don’t build walls that the cross has already torn down. We don’t nurse bitterness when Jesus bled to heal it. The cross makes reconciliation possible, not just between us and God, but between brother and sister, between husband and wife, between siblings, between members, between deacons and members, and deacons and deacons, and elders and members,

between us all. So if you’ve been betrayed by someone, go to that person and tell them. And if that person is approached by you, confess your sin to them and be reconciled. And if you’ve been betrayed by someone, don’t stay silent in shame. Or if you’ve betrayed someone, don’t stay silent in shame. Repent, confess, forgive and be forgiven. That’s the pattern. Because Jesus isn’t done shaping this community of love. And if you have been betrayed, deeply betrayed, you don’t have to carry that weight alone. We have a savior who understands, a spirit who comforts. You have a gospel that makes forgiveness possible even when it feels impossible. And you have a community of brothers and sisters who love you through it and help you and encourage you and walk you through it. And friend, if you’re here this morning and you don’t know this kind of love,

you don’t know what it feels like to be forgiven, you can experience both love and forgiveness in Jesus this morning. Bring Him your misaligned loves, your guarded heart, your self-protection and your betrayal. Jesus knows what betrayal feels like. He bore it so you wouldn’t have to be defined by it. Let Him give you a new heart. Let Him reorient your affections. Let Him soften what has been hardened through our world. Let Him welcome you into this new community where love is extended but not earned. Where love isn’t demanded but demonstrated. Where you can learn to love because you’ve been loved first. And if you have questions about what that means to experience this love and forgiveness in Jesus, ask any member in this church. If you’re a member, raise your hand. If you have questions, find anybody who has their hands raised this morning. They would love to talk to you about following Jesus.

Family, I want to close this morning by reading a little section from a book called A Gospel Primer for Christians. I want to read this little section entitled Loving My Brothers and Sisters because I think it’s totally fitting for our time this morning. He writes this, The more I experience the gospel, the more there develops within me a yearning affection for my fellow Christians who are also participating in the glories of the gospel. This affection for them comes loaded with confidence in their continued spiritual growth and ultimate glorification. And it becomes my pleasure to express to them this loving confidence regarding the outgoing work of God in their lives. Additionally, with the gospel proving itself to being such a boon in my own life, I realize that the greatest gift I can give my fellow Christians is the gospel itself. Indeed, I love my fellow Christians

not simply because of the gospel, but I love them best when I am loving them with the gospel. And I do this not merely by speaking gospel words to them, but also by living before them and generously relating to them in a gospel manner. Imparting my life to them in this way, I thereby contribute to their experience of the power, the spirit, and the full assurance of the gospel. By preaching the gospel to myself each day, I nurture the bond that unites me with my brothers and sisters for whom Christ died. And I also keep myself well-versed in the raw materials with which I may actively love them in Christ. What are those raw materials? Love. Those are some excellent words, family. Amen? Let those words be what compels us to continue loving each other. Amen? Let’s pray. Our Father and our God,

we only love because you first loved us and gave yourself up for us, giving us not only the ability but the model to love. And I pray, O Lord and God, that the kind of love that you model would be the distinguishing feature of our church and that it would be so full that these walls can’t contain it, that it spills out into the Pacific Northwest, into our country, and into our world. May love be that defining feature within us. We pray these things in Christ’s name. Amen.