14.11 | The Reveal
John 21
‘This is the disciple who is bearing witness about these things, and who has written these things, and we know that his testimony is true.’
John 21:24
Lydia once shared a train journey with a famous magician. Before he was famous.
He looked like a very ordinary guy. Young, tracksuit, and playing with a pack of cards. She asked him what he was doing, and he told her that he did card tricks.
“Do you want me to show you one?”
Obviously, yes.
And so he shuffled the pack, had her pick a card at random, and look at it. He then took the card back, reshuffled them, and flipped one over.
“Is that your card?”
It wasn’t.
He feigned disappointment.
He flipped another one. Still wrong.
“Ok,” he said. And then he paused, and pointed out of the window.
“Is that your card?” he asked.
Stuck to the outside of the train window was Lydia’s card.
And it’s messed with us ever since.
A good magician leads you to the point of revealing where the trick has been headed. They take you on a storyline, building expectations and then playing around with you, until they reach the point of the reveal, when you realise what they’ve been headed for all along.
A good storyteller does something similar. And John, today, gives us his big reveal. Because woven through John’s retelling of the story of Cross and empty tomb has been a character.
The disciple whom Jesus loved.
He was there at the Last Supper. He was there at the foot of the cross. He was there at the empty tomb. And he is there again today, as the resurrected Jesus cooks them a BBQ breakfast on a beach.
As a phrase, we might find it troubling. Because ‘the disciple whom Jesus loved,’ for us, can sound like Jesus didn’t love the other disciples. Or that He loved this disciple more. That He has favourites—an in-crowd and an 'everybody else.’ We can read these words and feel like they emphasise our distance from Him as we look on at somebody else’s remarkable friendship with Him. Our heads can hang heavy as we walk away as the unloved, or the less-loved.
And yet, when we reach the reveal, our perspective completely changes:
This is the disciple … who has written these things.
The disciple is John, the author of this Gospel.
And this changes everything that we fear.
Why?
Because John is giving us an insight, not into a hierarchy of favour that Jesus had, but into the internal narrative of one who has begun to learn the love of Jesus. It is a kind of love that uniquely and personally has come to know you, delight in you, and fight for your wellbeing in all and every situation. It is a measure of love that is specific and unique, that never loses you in a crowd. It is a kind of love that picks you out at the dinner table and commissions you from a cross and that reminds you that the empty tomb was there for you too. It is an internal narrative that mean that, from these days onwards, John walked differently. He could walk differently through purpose and challenges, activity and resting, laughter and tears. For in all these things, he had learned to call himself, to remind himself, to endlessly walk as the disciple whom Jesus loved.
Friends, such an insight is as precious to you and I as it was to him. For those words are truly not written to describe something particularly about John, but rather to reveal something particular about Jesus.
For as you walk through this day to come, the day past, and every day before, there is a label upon your life—crafted out of the steps of a Lord who walked through cross and tomb for you. That you, my friend, are the disciple whom He loves. As you go to work today, as you pick up the kids, as you weep in prayer, as you navigate this pain.
For He is revealed. And, in so doing, so are you. And thus you walk today.
As the disciple whom Jesus loves.
Reflect:
Run through my life right now.
Bring this phrase upon you, and begin to call yourself this title in each situation. Invite the Spirit to work this reality deeper into your heart as you do.
Pray:
Lord Jesus,
You have loved me first.
And yet, Lord,
I can forget this.
I can assume you are only interested in me
From a distance,
And that my concerns
Do not really touch your heart.
And in such assumptions, loving Lord,
I can withdraw, hide, and walk with drooping head
From the feast you welcome me to.
And thus, Lord,
I receive you afresh as you are revealed:
The Lord who loves me;
And I receive me as I truly now am:
The disciple whom Jesus loves.
Work this truth into the grain of my being,
That my every moment
Be held the endless freedom and endless courage
That comes from your great reveal.
In Your Name,
Amen
Old Testament:
For those also reading the Old Testament this year, your additional readings are here:
Ezekiel 28:1-30:19 | Psalm 129