Gospel of John

It was over two years ago now. I’d gotten a concerned call from Michelle and headed home from work. When I got there, there was even more reason to be upset and confused. The next day we found out we’d miscarried our first pregnancy, but for that evening, we were lost in confusion, pain, and a hint of what was happening.

In those moments, I didn’t know what to do, but I knew we needed to hear from God. In these situations, people typically run to the Psalms. They’re full of perspective and the reality of life in a suffering, fallen world. But I think in my mind that night, I wanted something that was long (because I honestly didn’t want the silence to crush us), and something that put us in God’s story.

After dinner, I turned to John, and we read chapters 13-17, Jesus final discourse with his disciples. Maybe this seems odd as a passage to read for comfort in suffering and pain. At the time it made perfect sense, and it still does.

The section opens with these profound lines about the mind of Jesus going into the crucifixion. John tells us that, “Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, [and] having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” He goes on: “Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper.” Jesus knew the pain and confusion of the world – he knew one of his closest friends was going to betray him to death in a matter of hours (under his own permission in fact), but he didn’t flinch, and he didn’t muscle through. Jesus knew that his Father was sovereign and in control of everything, even his own death, and he continued to love. He loved his father, and he loved his own. He loved them to the end.

In this vein, there are three sections that particularly spoke comfort in those dark hours: The Vine, The Victory, and The Prayer.

The Vine
In John 15, Jesus speaks of his union with his believers in such intimate terms that they are his branches, feeding off of his nourishment. In terms of suffering, like a plant, when one part suffers, the others feel it. We typically understand this in terms of other people sympathizing and feeling with us, which is right. But we need to take this back to Christ. When we suffer, Christ does. Being united to Christ means that all that we weather in him is weathered in his love. The paths of love are constantly, ever flowing from Christ to his people in all situations. John Flavel remarks: “Christ and the saints smile and sigh together.”

The Victory
Jesus said, “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” (John 17:33). There’s nothing quite like the death of a long anticipated pregnancy to make you feel that the world is full of trial and tribulation. Here, Christ calls us back to seeing his own sufficiency for our need. The sorrow does not win, because Christ who took on the full weight of sorrow and suffering, did not stay dead. This doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real, or lasting, or a wound that won’t go away, but it does mean that there’s hope and peace and comfort in Jesus. Along these lines Paul later comments “[we do] not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thes. 4:13). We grieve, but with hope. I wrote about this after we miscarried here.

The Prayer
The High Priestly prayer of Jesus in John 17 is maybe one of the holiest sections of Scripture. If you want to know the Savior’s heart for you in this world, and in your trials, follow his prayer here. What this prayer did (and does) for me was give perspective. Jesus knows my trial, Jesus loves me and walks with me in my trial, and Jesus wants me to have the best thing at the end of my trial: seeing him face to face in his full, radiant glory. Suffering and sorrow will be swallowed up one day, and this Jesus who “loved me to the end” will see me, and I him, and will heal this heart wounded by the tribulations of this world. One day. One day soon. In the meantime, he has prayed for me to know him and his love, and the best medicine for sorrow and pain is to learn the hope and love that he is for me.