“When Jesus had spoken these words, he went out with his disciples across the brook Kidron, where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered. Now Judas, who betrayed him, also knew the place, for Jesus often met there with his disciples. So Judas, having procured a band of soldiers and some officers from the chief priests and the Pharisees, went there with lanterns and torches and weapons. Then Jesus, knowing all that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, ‘Whom do you seek?’ They answered him, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus said to them, ‘I am he.’ Judas, who betrayed him, was standing with them. When Jesus said to them, ‘I am he,’ they drew back and fell to the ground. So he asked them again, ‘Whom do you seek?’ And they said, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus answered, ‘I told you that I am he. So, if you seek me, let these men go.’ This was to fulfill the word that he had spoken: ‘Of those whom you gave me I have lost not one.’ Then Simon Peter, having a sword, drew it and struck the high priest’s servant and cut off his right ear. (The servant’s name was Malchus.) So Jesus said to Peter, ‘Put your sword into its sheath; shall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?’”

Behold, the Lamb of God

The journey to the cross is one that has been unfolding over a great stretch of time. While we’ve watched it progress and intensify, as Jesus grew, as His ministry began, as His signs and teachings gave validity to His station as Messiah and set Him against the wickedness and hypocrisy of the religious rulers – but His path to the cross began long before God entered the world as flesh and blood. What God says to the serpent in Genesis 3:15,

“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”

shows us a plan already in place, for the destruction of evil and the redemption of mankind. God, in His perfection, in His omniscience, knew what would unfold before we were ever created and, loving us, knew what He would do to restore us to Himself in our disobedience. The road that Jesus walked during His time on earth, that ended at the cross, with His death and our redemption, existed in the mind of God before time began. But as we pick up in John 18, we are not some unimaginable stretch of time from the crucifixion. The distance between the present and Jesus’ hour of glory on the cross is no longer measured in days and years, but in hours and minutes. While John does not address it, the matter already thoroughly written in the other gospels, this is a time of immense distress for Jesus. He is fully God and fully man, and He knows with perfect clarity what is about to happen. This is the time in Gethsemane where the synoptic gospels show us Jesus praying before the Father, not as He did during the High Priestly Prayer, but bowed with His face to the ground. Matthew 26:39, 42 shows us two prayers,

“…My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.”… “… My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.”

Jesus is not shirking the mission He has been given, His love for us has not waned, and His obedience to the will of the Father remains steadfast. He knows that He as the Son is the only path for humanity to come to the Father, and yet we see a willingness, if there was any other way, for Him to relinquish the mission, to let the cup pass. This is no small thing. Luke’s account tells us that at this point the stress that Jesus endured was so immense that He began to sweat blood. What we read today in John doesn’t diminish or disregard the suffering – and it’s always important that we remember the suffering, what the Living God endured out of His love for us. But as usual, John’s writing focuses us in on the dual nature of Christ, seeing His power and divinity even at the hour of His greatest stress. He is both God and man, both Father and Son, both Shepherd and Lamb – and it is here that we can see the authority of the Lamb of God.

1.      The Lamb of God Does What Others Could Not

“When Jesus had spoken these words, he went out with his disciples across the brook Kidron, where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered. Now Judas, who betrayed him, also knew the place, for Jesus often met there with his disciples. So Judas, having procured a band of soldiers and some officers from the chief priests and the Pharisees, went there with lanterns and torches and weapons.”

I have been waiting to write about this passage since the end of November, when we concluded John 14. That chapter ends with the conclusion of the Passover meal, and Jesus saying to the eleven remaining disciples, “Rise, let us go from here.” After the advent series, when we picked up in John 15 in January, I wrote about the transition between the two chapters. Some commentators view the chapters as non-chronological, that John 15-17 didn’t occur in the place where they’re given, and the end of 14 should flow right into where we begin today. I made a case against this, siding with those who hold that 15-17 are in order and all unfolding in the upper room, but adding the theory that, in keeping with what Jesus told the disciples to do at the end of John 14, to “rise,” that He’s addressing them while standing. This being to signify that Jesus addresses them, not as just students, but as friends, as He tells them in John 15:15,

“No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.”

When we concluded John 14, and I realized that 15 began the “True Vine” passage, I flipped ahead to see just when we were leaving the upper room, and saw something that intrigued me greatly, which is the mention of “the brook of Kidron.” If you’ve spent some time going through the Old Testament, this name, “Kidron,” may ring a bell, either referenced as the brook, valley, or field of Kidron. Possibly the simplest and least symbolic use we can see is in 1 Kings 2. Here Solomon confines Shimei, a relative of Saul, to live in Jerusalem, and not to go out past the brook of Kidron under penalty of death. Here more than anything it seems to simply serve as a geographical marker. The same could be said for John’s gospel, that the brook is just given as a point of reference on the map – but there’s a problem with that. We know that throughout His ministry, Jesus has frequented the Mount of Olives. Going back so far as the transition from John 7 to 8, we see that as everyone departs to go to their own homes, Jesus goes to the Mount of Olives. We know from Luke 10, that at a far earlier time in His ministry than when the resurrection of Lazarus occurred, Jesus was eating and teaching in the home of Martha, which we know from John 11, was in the village of Bethany, on the Mount of Olives. We’re even told in today’s passage that Judas knew the garden of Gethsemane because, “Jesus often met there with his disciples.” This means that during His ministry Jesus passed through Kidron plenty of times, as it lied between Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives. In fact, given that Jesus came to Jerusalem from Bethany, this should be the same way He entered the city during the triumphal entry. But this is the only time, in all of this coming and going that we see John draw attention to Kidron, and that helps us see that there is a purpose to his mentioning it beyond simply giving us a geographical indicator. The first time we explicitly see Kidron mentioned is in 2 Samuel 15:23,

“And all the land wept aloud as all the people passed by, and the king crossed the brook Kidron, and all the people passed on toward the wilderness.”

This passage records the midst of king David’s flight from Jerusalem as he flees his son Absalom who has come to kill him and take the throne of Israel for himself. This is the first thing we can see in John drawing our attention to Kidron; the contrast between Jesus and David. “Kidron” has a definition of “dark,” or “turbid.” Did I have to look up the definition for “turbid?” Yes, I most certainly did, and it means “cloudy,” or “opaque.” It doesn’t take much to draw a parallel between this and the “valley of the shadow of death” (which can also be translated as “valley of deep darkness”) referenced in Psalm 23. Kidron was (and is, to my knowledge), a very real place, but what it symbolizes is far greater than a dried-up stream, fed by the seasonal rains. This is a place of darkness, and suffering. The difference between Jesus and David here is that David brought this suffering upon himself. It’s not that we shouldn’t feel a sense of compassion for David, but his plight also isn’t a great surprise. After his affair with Bathsheba, and his murder of her husband, Uriah the Hittite, God tells David through Nathan the prophet in 2 Samuel 12:10–12,

“‘Now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house, because you have despised me and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife.’ Thus says the LORD, ‘Behold, I will raise up evil against you out of your own house. And I will take your wives before your eyes and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in the sight of this sun. For you did it secretly, but I will do this thing before all Israel and before the sun.’”

David walks through the valley of deep darkness, away from the pain of betrayal, away from, not for the first time in his life, those to seek to kill him. He goes toward fear and uncertainty in the wilderness, and while the Lord delivers Him and allows him to retain the kingdom, he suffers as God said he would. Jesus on the other hand, enters the valley to walk toward those who seek to kill Him. He goes knowingly to pain and betrayal and the greatest suffering that has ever been endured – and He does so blamelessly. He deserves none of what is coming, and yet, for the love of the Father, and for those whom the Father has given Him, He goes. The Lamb of God, spotless, innocent, and going forward to take away the sin of the world. One other point I’d like to draw attention to before we move on from Kidron is the primary use we see the valley put to in the Old Testament – the destruction of idols. Starting with Solomon and going pretty steeply downhill from there, the Old Testament shows that many of the kings of Israel held a fondness for idol worship. Some would worship God, but also devote themselves to worshiping the false deities of the high places, while others would outright bring their idols, shrines, and asherim into the house of the Lord… Occasionally, God would raise up a king who would seek to turn the people back to Him, in which case the destruction of the idols was part of their accomplishments. 1 Kings 15, 2 Kings 23, 2 Chronicles 29, and 30, recount the work of three different kings of Judah: Asa, Josiah, and Hezekiah, all using the brook or fields of Kidron as a dumping ground for removed and destroyed idols and their altars. In short, this is a place where false gods go to die. And again, John mentioning this name and drawing us to the history of this place, shows us the contrast given in Jesus. Psalm 115:2–8 says,

“Why should the nations say, ‘Where is their God?’ Our God is in the heavens; he does all that he pleases. Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. They have mouths, but do not speak; eyes, but do not see. They have ears, but do not hear; noses, but do not smell. They have hands, but do not feel; feet, but do not walk; and they do not make a sound in their throat. Those who make them become like them; so do all who trust in them.”

Romans 1:21–23 says,

“For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things.”

Idols are the creation and point of worship of fools. An idol cannot hear you, an idol cannot save you. They are less than worthless, and good for nothing but to be destroyed and their ashes cast to the wind. The religious rulers have accused Jesus of falsehood. They claim that He is not the Christ, that He is not the Son of God, that His power is that of demons, that He is a heretic who is leading the world astray. They ignore the proof of His works and His teachings, hating Him for the threat He poses to their wicked and corrupt system. But here in today’s passage, we specifically see Jesus pass through the valley of shadow, through the place where false gods go to die, and reach His destination on the other side. Because Jesus is not false, or hollow, anything less than perfect in any way. He has not stumbled as David once did, earning his reproach, He does not lack the power to hear, or think, or love, or save those who come to Him, as empty and worthless idols do. He is the Lamb of God, the Good Shepherd, the True Vine, the Light of the World, the One who walks across the waves, heals the sick, restores the blind, and raises the dead to new Life in Him. This one remark, this simple mention of the valley that Jesus passed through on His way to Gethsemane, is just another example of the Spirit working though John to highlight the certainty of who Jesus is, and the authority He holds above any and all else as the Son of God.

2.      The Lamb of God Overcomes the World

“Then Jesus, knowing all that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, ‘Whom do you seek?’ They answered him, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus said to them, ‘I am he.’ Judas, who betrayed him, was standing with them. When Jesus said to them, ‘I am he,’ they drew back and fell to the ground. So he asked them again, ‘Whom do you seek?’ And they said, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus answered, ‘I told you that I am he.’”

Jesus said in John 10:17–18, while identifying Himself as the Good Shepherd,

“For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father.”

Jesus told them all – His followers and those who had set themselves against Him, “No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.” Just as the Roman soldiers did not succeed in killing Jesus, but rather, He Himself yields His Spirit, so Jesus is not arrested by force and the strength of superior numbers – He allows Himself to be arrested, so that He might be sacrificed, so that prophecy might be fulfilled. Just as in the ebb and flow of Him slowly and pointedly building the ire and fury of the religious rulers, to the point that they were more aggressively seeking His life, so too at the time of His arrest, Jesus is in control. Knowing with divine precision everything that is about to happen, what He is about to suffer, Jesus steps forward to address the group. John doesn’t address Judas and his kiss, this was covered thoroughly in the earlier gospels, and it doesn’t seem to be the focal point of John’s writing. John’s not drawing us to the very real tragedy of the betrayal, but to the authority Jesus holds even at this lowest of points. “Jesus of Nazareth,” is who they’ve come seeking, but those there to arrest Jesus don’t understand who it is they’ve come to apprehend. Jesus of Nazareth is not just a man, the but the Messiah, the Christ, the Son of the Living God. While maybe not as obvious, this calls us back to Exodus and the burning bush just as significantly as Jesus saying, “… before Abraham was, I am” in John 8:58. To be the prophesied Jesus of Nazareth is to be One with God. This truth is so vast, so powerful, that it takes the feet from beneath those who’ve come to arrest Jesus. This highlights in no uncertain terms – those who hated Him, who sought His life, didn’t arrest Him by force. Jesus wasn’t overpowered or taken against His will – how could He have been when the sheer weight of His identity knocked His persecutors off of their feet. Jesus told His disciples in John 16:32–33,

“Behold, the hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home, and will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me. I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

We find ourselves now mere minutes away from this moment when the disciples will scatter, and true to His word, Jesus is not alone, and His authority remains unbroken. I usually think of this verse, “But take heart; I have overcome the world,” for it’s spiritual implications, the victory we’re given through salvation and the guarantee of eternity. This is accurate, but Jesus isn’t limited to just one kind of victory. He has overcome the world in Spirit, but He also holds full control over the world in its physical form. He is the One who calmed the storm with His voice, who multiplied the bread and fish, who commanded the dead to rise, and they obeyed. He is the One who formed the world from nothingness, and breathed life into all the living creatures, and into us made in His image. As John 1:3 says,

“All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.”

His authority is complete, the degree to which He has overcome the world is complete, and this is evident in a new and glorious way at the time of His arrest. Irrefutably and undeniably offering Himself up, completely in control, to claim a victory that was already His.

3.      The Lamb of God Lives out the will of the Father

“So, if you seek me, let these men go.’ This was to fulfill the word that he had spoken: ‘Of those whom you gave me I have lost not one.’ Then Simon Peter, having a sword, drew it and struck the high priest’s servant and cut off his right ear. (The servant’s name was Malchus.) So Jesus said to Peter, ‘Put your sword into its sheath; shall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?’”

I love Peter. Like, I love all the disciples, I love them all knowing that these are my brothers in Christ, that these men were called to do great things in the name of Jesus, that I will be with them in eternity as I will all those who have been redeemed by the blood of Christ. But on an individual level, I feel quite drawn to Peter. I feel a sense of relatability and kinship with him when I read the scene on the Sea of Galilee, recounted in Matthew 14, where Jesus walks across the waves, and Peter asks to join him on the water. I understand the spirit behind that zeal, and I appreciate the conflict of the terror he felt as he looked at the wind and waves and felt his faith falter. I’m moved when I consider the way church history records his death – crucified upside down at his own request, not worthy to die in the same manner as his Lord and Savior. And where we find him in today’s passage makes sense to me. It was quite recently that Peter told Jesus that he would follow Him to the point of death, only to learn that he would soon deny his Master three times. Those denials are so close at hand now, but before we get there we witness here as Peter takes action that would have made good on his initial declaration – drawing a sword and attacking a group heavily comprised of Roman soldiers is an excellent way for him to get himself killed in what he presumably sees as the noble defense of the Christ. But it’s wrong. It’s misguided. And as is so often the case, what Peter stumbles on points us back to something we all stumble on. As the Jews are fleeing Egypt, they find themselves pinned against the Red Sea by pharaoh and his host. The people of Israel begin to despair, bemoaning that they have fled Egypt only to die in the wilderness. But Exodus 14:13–14 shows Moses address the people, saying, 

“… Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”

We can take great comfort from the Word of God, but lets also be honest with ourselves as fallible humans, each with less than perfect faith – standing still, remaining silent can be hard. It is hard to look upon what you’re sure is impending death, and remain peaceful in you flesh. It is hard to be called out onto the waves, and not feel fear for the raging sea. It’s hard to face pain, and persecution, and hunger, and fatigue, and just be still in the peace of the Lord. We know a certainty through the Spirit, but our flesh wars against this, and it can be hard. Peter knows what Jesus has told them. He knows, even if he doesn’t fully understand that Jesus has told them of His coming death. He knows that they just spent extensive time in the upper room after the Passover meal, with Jesus preparing them for His departure, assuring them of the peace they have in the Father, and offering them words of eternal hope. They don’t have the Holy Spirit yet, they don’t fully understand what’s happening, but Peter has been given the information. What we see is not dissimilar from Moses’ own struggles with his faith. In Exodus 17, when the people thirst and grumble in the wilderness, God tells Moses to strike the rock at Horeb and water shall come out of it. Later in Numbers 20, when the people again thirst and grumble, God says to Moses in verse 8,

“Take the staff, and assemble the congregation, you and Aaron your brother, and tell the rock before their eyes to yield its water. So you shall bring water out of the rock for them and give drink to the congregation and their cattle.”

The instruction is quite clear – speak to the rock, tell it to yield its water. But what does Moses do? In a showing of poor faith and seemingly leaning on his own understanding, Moses strikes the rock. Twice. God then speaks, saying to Moses and Aaron in verse 12,

“Because you did not believe in me, to uphold me as holy in the eyes of the people of Israel, therefore you shall not bring this assembly into the land that I have given them.”

Someone might look at this passage from a worldly perspective and think it seems harsh, that over this seemingly small disobedience neither Moses nor Aaron will enter the promised land. But this shows us the significance of obedience to the Word and will of God. Proverbs 3:5 tell us,

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.”

But leaning on our own understanding is exactly what our flesh calls us to do. It is far easier to be obedient when our stress is low. It’s easier to fast when you’re not hungry, easier to tithe when your bank account is full, easier to trust when there’s not a shadow looming over you. Moses was under significant stress before the grumbling and rebellious people of Israel. Peter was under significant stress before the crowd of men, come to arrest and execute His Christ. It doesn’t make what they did right, but it does allow us to understand, to sympathize, one fallen human to another – and it again allows us to see the contrast of the perfection of Jesus. He said in John 12:27–28

“‘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.’”

We’ve read the prayers from Matthew’s gospel, offered up while sweating blood, and face to the ground. ““…if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” “…if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” We see here in this moment, before He is taken, and beaten, and given a mock trial, and crucified under the wrath of God, when the stress is at an all time high, Jesus’ highest aim, His absolute pursuit remains the will of the Father. That the cup that He has been given be drank with perfect obedience.

Pastor Chris’s sermon: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q21x9lEhOCs