Peace!

By S. Lewis Johnson, Jr. [1]

An Exposition of John 14:25–31

Introduction

In this section, concluding the first part of the discourse in the upper room, the Lord gives three promises to the disciples and to us. One of them is new and two are old.

Among them is a priceless “last will and testament,” as someone has put it (cf. v. 27). In our Lord’s words it is, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.” It is striking, is it not, that the Lord Jesus was the poorest of the poor, and yet He has left this priceless boon and bequest to men. Many have, I am sure, prayed as Whittier did,

Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace. [2]

It is this wonderful peace, and more than this, that Jesus promises us.

And how appropriate it is that our society appeal to Him for that peace and harmony in life. What burdens, both recognized and unrecognized, men and women of our day have! We have the burden of unemployment, the product of vast excesses in our governmental leaders. We have, therefore, the burden of the millions of the poor, victims of both the evils of modern society’s men and women and their own discouragement and idleness. And we have parental problems, for the youth of our society are often totally out of control, both in our schools and in our slums. And in the finest of our families there is often a “generation gap” of dangerous proportions. And this is to say nothing of the lonely, the ill, and the aged.

Of course, we do not want, or need, a kind of sheltered placidity, for we must cope directly with life about us. And we do not want an emotionless Stoicism, for that is beyond most of us. What we need is what Jesus alone gives,— “my peace.” It is to Jesus’ prescription that we now turn in our study of John’s Gospel.

These things have I spoken unto you, being yet present with you. But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. Ye have heard how I said unto you, I go away, and come again unto you. If ye loved me, ye would rejoice, because I said, I go unto the Father; for my Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before it come to pass, that, when it is come to pass, ye might believe. Hereafter I will not talk much with you: for the prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me. But that the world may know that I love the Father; and as the Father gave me commandment, even so I do. Arise, let us go hence (John 14:25–31).

The Promise of the Paraclete

The promise of the gift of the Holy Spirit is couched in these words, “These things have I spoken unto you, being yet present with you. But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you” (14:25–26).

Jesus says that the Paraclete will do two things. First, He shall “teach you all things.” It is a remarkable statement, and it has to do with the clarity of divine revelation (cf. 1 John 2:20, 27), inclusive of what we might in theological terms call both revelation and illumination, the latter being the accurate explanation of the truth that has been revealed.

The second thing that Jesus says that the Paraclete will do is, “bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.” This has to do with the continuity of divine revelation (cf. John 2:22; 12:16). There were many things that were revealed to the apostles, for example, which they did not understand at the time of the revelation. Later they did come to understand them, and they attributed their illumination to the later help of the Paraclete.

Erling Olsen in his commentary on the Gospel of John has told of a young man, who had formerly attended a modernistic seminary, but had been saved through the ministry of a church in Philadelphia, probably the Tenth Presbyterian Church in the days when Donald Grey Barnhouse was its pastor, for Olsen and Barnhouse were close friends. Olsen had come to the church to minister a year after the young man had been converted. He referred in his sermon to the fact that it was absurd to think that John could remember the words spoken by the Lord in John seventeen, spoken at least fifty years before John recorded them in his gospel, were it not for the fact of John 14:26 and Jesus’ promise that He would bring to the remembrance of the apostles the things that He had said unto them. The young man thanked Olsen profusely for the comment, for it had been disturbing him for some time, due to the criticism of his old seminary professors. They had said it was ridiculous to place confidence in the statements of a man ninety years of age. “But oh,” he said, “I felt like shouting for joy when you dispelled the theory that it was not John’s memory, but rather that it was the Holy Spirit’s own memory bringing back to John, word for word, what the Lord Jesus had to say.” [3]

The Promise of Peace

Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid (14:27).

In our way of thinking peace is usually wished, but He, the Lord Jesus, gives peace. And the peace He gives is not the absence of emotions. He had peace, but at the coming of the Greeks John wrote of His response to them, “Now is my soul troubled” (cf. John 12:27). At the approach to the struggle of Gethsemane Mark writes of Him, “And he taketh with him Peter and James and John, and began to be sore amazed, and to be very heavy” (cf. Mark 14:33). He knew the pull of genuine human emotions.

Nor was peace for Him the suppression of His feelings. As current slang has it, He “let it all hang out,” so far as His genuine humanity, apart from sin, was concerned.

We learn from these things that peace is not a matter of the emotions, for they vary with the experiences of life. Peace arises from convictions, such as the concern, love, and providence of a sovereign and loving Father. That, of course, Jesus had perfectly.

But let us note more closely some of the things about this amazing promise of peace. Our Lord’s words include, “Peace I leave with you.” According to His expression peace is bequeathed to the reconciled, for the disciples were reconciled to the Father (cf. 15:3). One thinks of the Apostle Paul’s further revelation concerning this peace and the manner in which it becomes ours (cf. Rom. 5:1–11; Eph. 2:14–17). The peace is preached universally, and it becomes the possession of the ones given by the Father to the Son. But just as legacies are often left unclaimed, so the marvelous legacy of peace is only claimed by the chosen. Such is the hardness of the human heart that only those drawn by the Father to the Son accept the gift of peace (cf. John 6:44).

H. A. Ironside has related the story of a Confederate soldier, who was ignorant of the consummation of the Civil War.

At the close of the war between the States, we are told that a troop of Federal Cavalry were riding along a road between Richmond and Washington. Suddenly they saw a poor wretch, clothed in the ragged remnants of a Confederate uniform come out of the bush. He hailed the Captain who drew rein and waited for him. He gasped out, “I am starving to death. Can you help me? Can you give me some food?” The Captain said, “Starving to death! Why don’t you go into Richmond and get what you need?” The other answered, “I dare not, for if I did I would be arrested. Three weeks ago I became utterly disheartened and I deserted from the Confederate army, and I have been hiding in the woods ever since waiting for an opportunity to get through the lines to the north, for I knew if I were arrested I would be shot for deserting in time of war.” The Captain looked at him in amazement and said, “Haven’t you heard the news?” “What news?” the poor fellow gasped. “Why, the war is over. Peace has been made. General Lee surrendered to General Grant at Appomattox two weeks ago. The Confederacy is ended.” “What?” he said, “peace has been made for two weeks, and I have been starving in the woods because I did not know it?” Oh, that was the gospel of peace to him. [4]

That spiritual peace of which Jesus spoke is still being preached, and being received by hearts made hungry for it through the efficacious grace of the Spirit of God. A stanza of a popular hymn has put the essence of the matter in this way:

I hear the words of love,
I gaze upon the blood;
I see the mighty sacrifice,
And I have peace with God. [5]

Now Jesus said that He “gives” peace. The peace that He was speaking about was bestowed, a word of grace, upon the trusting. He called it “my peace.” Some think that the peace that He left is to be distinguished from the peace that He gives. The former is linked with expiation, while the latter is linked with experience according to their way of thinking. One is the peace that we have with God through justification, while the latter is the peace of God that we have through abiding trust in Him. In fact, both aspects of peace are the product of faith, or trust, for a man is justified by faith, and he enjoys the blessings of life and sanctification by faith, too.

For the world in its state of rebellion and distrust peace only comes through valium!

Jesus says that He gives “not as the world gives,” a clause upon which Morris comments in this way, “When the world uses ‘Peace’ in a greeting it expresses a hope. It can do no more.” [6]

Our Lord’s experience of peace was remarkable. James Stewart, one of my old teachers, describes it this way:

Continual intrusions upon His privacy, no respite from dawn to dark, the steady drain on His spiritual resources, inconsiderate people breaking in on His hours of quiet, the awful burden of sharing every hurt heart’s sins and sorrows and of feeling them as personally as if they were His own, the misunderstandings, the cutting criticisms, the pettiness of people, the terrible unremitting toil, the disappointments, the crushing load of such a life—and yet, through it all, that same serene, untroubled heart. No flurry, no sign of strain upon His face, no trace of nerves—always “My peace.” Is there anything more marvelous in the Gospels than just that? [7]

Stewart contrasts the disciples’ peace with our Lord’s in a striking way.

Their nerves sometimes gave way. There was a Samaritan village that was rude and inhospitable. “Lord,” they cried exasperated, “let us call down fire from heaven! Let us teach these boorish folk a lesson.” But Jesus? “Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of.” Always that strong serenity! The frail boat was being tossed one night on a murderous sea. “Master,” they shouted, all self-control flung to the winds, “Master, carest Thou not that we perish?” “Peace, be still,” said Jesus, and I think He was speaking to those panic-stricken hearts as much as to the angry waves, “Peace, be still.” [8]

The Promise of Parting

Ye have heard how I said unto you, I go away, and come again unto you. If ye loved me, ye would rejoice, because I said, I go unto the Father; for my Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before it come to pass, that, when it is come to pass, ye might believe. Hereafter I will not talk much with you: for the prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me. But that the world may know that I love the Father; and as the Father gave me commandment, even so I do. Arise, let us go hence (14:27–31).

The final verses of the chapter are somewhat of a recapitulation of chapter fourteen. And Jesus says that His leaving ought to be cause for an accession of joy, not anxiety. They, however, seem at this point to be dominated by selfish fear and not by a serene faith.

There are two remarkable things that appear in these words, and I would like to comment upon them in some detail. The first of the statements is, “for my Father is greater than I” (14:28). A mountain of discussion has risen over it. In what sense can it be said that the Father is greater than the Son? In the light of this statement, did the church overstate itself in claiming that Christ is co-essential with the Father. Is subordinationism, perhaps, right after all? “Does not the idea of preexistence overstress Christ’s having come and neglect somewhat his being sent?” Berkouwer asks. [9]

It is important to note the context in which our Lord’s words occur. It is the context of His humiliation, of His incarnation. Berkouwer is on the right track when he comments, “This superiority of the Father, therefore, is broached in a particular context. It is the Son of Man in his humiliation who now proceeds by the way of suffering to the Father who will glorify him.” [10] In other words, modern criticism, just as that of the ancient Arians, ignores the contrast of the humiliation with His impending exaltation.

Warfield writes,

Obviously this means that there was a sense in which He had ceased to be equal with the Father, because of the humiliation of His present condition, and in so far as this humiliation involved entrance into a status lower than that which belonged to Him by nature. Precisely in what this humiliation consisted can only be gathered from the general implication of many statements. In it He was a “man”: “a man who hath told you the truth, which I have heard from God” (viii. 40), where the contrast with “God” throws the assertion of humanity into emphasis (cf. x. 33) … only one human characteristic11 was alien to Him: He was without sin: “the prince of the world,” he declared, “hath nothing in me” (xiv. 30; cf. viii. 46). Clearly our Lord, as reported by John, knew Himself to be true God and true man in one indivisible person, the common subject of the qualities which belong to each. [12]

How shall we answer the question, then? There are two basic answers:

1. First, it is said that the statement relates only to the humanity of our Lord. That is possible, but it is not the total answer, it seems to me.
2. Second, the Son does not speak here of His essence, but of His office as the Mediator subordinate to the Father for a time (cf. 1 Cor. 15:20–28). The Father is greater in office and position, while the mediatorial work is in progress. And the use of the term, “Father,” and not “God,” confirms this. Jesus does not say, and it is significant to note it, “for God is greater than I.” In the language of the kenosis of Philippians 2:5–11 He was a Servant for a time (cf. John 17:5). To put it in a statement: Absolute equality and relative inequality may co-exist for a time.

Carson comments,

One might even argue that for Jesus to utter such a thought, and expect to be taken seriously, presupposes the essential oneness between Jesus and his Father. If I were to say, rather solemnly, that God is greater than I, I would be dressing up truth in ridiculous clothing, because the distance between God and me is so great that the comparison is in some respects ludicrous even while it is formally true. It would be far more ludicrous than for a common, garden-variety slug to comment, “The human being who owns this garden is greater than I.” [13]

The ancients saw into the matter even more clearly and pointedly. They pointed out that only things of the same order of magnitude can be compared. For example, Basil of Caesarea, who lived in the fourth century, saw the fallacy of the Arian view that Jesus was confessing that He was not God. He said our Lord’s words really proved that He was one in essence with the Father.

For I know that comparisons may properly be made between things which are of the same nature. … If, then, comparisons are made between things of the same species, and the Father by comparison is said to be greater than the Son, then the Son is of the same essence as the Father. [14]

The point is plain: It is proper to compare things or beings only when they are of the same species or essence.

Whether Basil is correct or not, the text of our Lord has primary reference to His status as the God-man accomplishing His mediatorial work. During this time He assumed the servant’s place, and in that position the Father can be said to be “greater” than He. Morris concurs, “The reference, however is not to Christ’s essential Being, but rather to His incarnate state.” [15]

The second word of significance is the statement in verse thirty, “Hereafter I will not talk much with you: for the prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me.” The words have to do with the coming of Satan to carry out his nefarious scheme to put the Son of God to death. Our Lord’s words point to His sinless perfection. Satan has no legitimate grounds upon which he may demand the punishment of the Son. “The Ruler of the World,” Swete pointed out with insight, “found a man whom he could not rule, even in the least thing.” [16]

Conclusion

Two of the glorious promises of the Lord we now have. First, the Paraclete has come, and He now indwells every believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, and the indwelling is forever (cf. John 14:17). And, second, He has left us for the right hand of the Majesty on high. There He serves as the exalted High Priest of the people of God, insuring by His continuing ministry the fulfillment of all His mediatorial work, saving to the uttermost those that come unto God through Him.

But, do we have the third promise? I am speaking of the promise of peace. It depends upon two things. First, it rests upon the conviction of the possession of adequate resources in the possession of Him. The promises of a God who cannot be frustrated in His purposes assure us that we do have such resources.

Listen to just a couple of the promises, and answer the question for yourself. The apostle, speaking for us all in Christ, exults, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (lit., keeps on pouring His power unto me; cf. Phil. 4:13). Then a few lines on he adds, “But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus” (cf. v. 19). That should be enough for the most faltering, feeble, weak, and hesitant to trust of the saints.

And, second, peace rests upon the sense of a continuing fellowship with God. That is the product of the presence of the Spirit within each saint, and Paul lays down prescriptions for it in that same fourth chapter of Philippians (cf. vv. 6, 9).

There are always those who reply, “That is not for me; it is for the preacher, perhaps, but not for a doubting, failing Christian like me.” Well, I close with a restatement of the promise from the lips of the sovereign Lord, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give UNTO YOU.” The “you’s” are plural in number in the text, incidentally. Is not the Word of Christ enough for us? Let us by His grace and power rest in His Word to us, enjoying His peace, bequeathed to us and bestowed upon us.

Notes

1. Lewis Johnson is a Bible teacher at Believer’s Chapel in Dallas, Texas. He is Professor Emeritus of New Testament Exegesis at Dallas Theological Seminary and also served as Professor of Biblical and Systematic Theology at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. This is the seventh in a series of expositions on The Upper Room Discourse.
2. John Greenleaf Whittier, “The Brewing of Soma,” in The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1904), 552.
3. Erling C. Olsen, Walks with Our Lord through John’s Gospel, 2nd ed., 2 vols. (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1941), 2:413–414.
4. H. A. Ironside, Addresses on the Gospel of John (New York: Loizeaux Brothers, 1942), 637–38.
5. Horatius Bonar, “I Hear the Words of Love,” in Hymns of Truth and Praise (Fort Dodge, Ia.: Gospel Perpetuating Fund, 1971), Hymn no. 99.
6. Leon Morris, The Gospel according to John, NICNT (rev. ed., Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 583–84.
7. James S. Stewart, The Gates of Life (New York: Charles Scribners’s Sons, 1940), 144.
8. Stewart, The Gates of Life, 145.
9. G. C. Berkouwer, The Person of Christ, trans. John Vriend (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1954), 185. Berkouwer has a rather lengthy discussion of the problem. Concluding his discussion with a reference to modern superficiality in the interpretation of the passage, Berkouwer writes, “Again we have encountered the impoverished insight into Scripture which is symptomatic of modern Christology” (p. 189).
10. Berkouwer, The Person of Christ, 187.
11. I do not think Warfield’s use of the term “human characteristic” in this context is true to theology. Sin is a “human characteristic” only since the fall. Its absence in Adam, as well as in Christ, indicates that it is not an essential of human nature. Cf. Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield, “The Person of Christ According to the New Testament,” The Person and Work of Christ, ed. Samuel G. Craig (Philadelphia: Presbyterian and Reformed, 1950), 61–62.
12. Warfield, “The Person of Christ,” 61–62.
13. D. A. Carson, The Farewell Discourse and Final Prayer of Jesus (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1980), 80.
14. St. Basil the Great, “Letter VIII, ‘To the Caesareans,’” Letters, in A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, ed. Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, 14 vols. (reprint ed., Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989 [1894]), 8:118.
15. Leon Morris, The Gospel according to John, 658.
16. Henry Barclay Swete, The Last Discourse and Prayer of our Lord: A Study of St. John XIV-XVII (London: Macmillan and Co., 1914), 64.