Greater Love: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you.” John 15:13-14. Last night, while reading John 15 together with my wife, I came to verse 13, already knowing what was before me, and anticipating one of the most extraordinary sayings of our Lord, words that almost take your breath away. “Ye are my friends.” Can this truly be so? Especially when weighed against the reality of our own vileness and insignificance. I mean, I’ve got to be the worst friend ever! How often do I harden my heart, wander after foolish desires, indulge the flesh, fail to pray, break my promises, complain or murmur under difficult circumstances, &c. By any measure of loyalty or steadiness, I’d be the worst of friends, disloyal, distracted, doubting, questioning the Lord’s goodness and circling back to the very sins I promised to forsake. Honestly, when I start to list out the ways someone can be a poor friend, the examples just keep piling up, and, to my shame, I see myself in almost every one of them; and yet, this is precisely the wonder of it all.
Many of us know what it is to feel alone or friendless. Even in this age of endless connections, where social media boasts of “friends” beyond number, real life often reminds us that true companionship is rare, sometimes found only within our own household, and perhaps not necessarily there either. Matthew 10:36. And so when we hear of Christ speaking in terms of such infinite condescension, “ye are my friends.” What greater astonishment could there be? Such a thought leaves the soul speechless. That Christ, who lacks nothing and overflows with infinite blessedness, who knows all that I am and all that I am not, would call me His friend? “Not that we loved Him, but that He loved us,” comes to mind. I John 4:10. That Christ would ever say this of me, the worst friend imaginable, is staggering. To common sense it seems absurd; and apart from faith impossible to even begin to embrace as applying to ourselves. How could ONE so pure, so faithful, so infinitely blessed, ever call us His friend? Our constant failures rise up as witnesses against us, and honesty and reason tells us to cast such thoughts immediately aside. But we can’t! We are captivated and mesmerized by “the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:39.
We want this more than anything! Such love leaves us in awe, and we treasure it as life’s greatest pearl. Matthew 13:46. Yet the more we prize it, the more keenly we feel our weakness, realizing how poor a friend we have been to Christ. The LORD alone can give grace to look beyond our unfaithfulness and to cling to the staggering truth that Christ’s word is more certain than all our trembling apprehensions about our failures as His friends. “If we believe not, yet he abideth faithful, he cannot deny himself.” II Timothy 2:13.
Then comes a word from Christ that can leave one staggering, as though His friendship were secured only by perfect obedience, when he continues, “if ye do whatsoever I command you.” That little word “if” almost seems to spoil everything. For how can such a thing be? We know our bent to sin, our weakness in obedience. How can the Lord, who knows our inability, require a life of perfect conformity? In one sense, the promise of being Christ’s friend seems dashed to pieces under the weight of such an impossible condition. Who can claim such perfect obedience? As above, the more we look within, the more we see failure upon failure, commands neglected, affections misplaced, duties half-heartedly performed, sins repeated again and again. The very verse that should confirm Christ’s friendship instead seems to expose our unworthiness all the more, as our peace slips away, common sense argues, and a voice whispers, “could Christ truly mean me when He speaks these words?”
The “if” in Christ’s words is not the language of condition, nor a hurdle we must clear to earn His love; but I believe one of evidence, even ownership; for when the Lord says, “ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you,” we can be assured from the analogy of scripture that Christ is not laying down a bargain, as though obedience were the price we pay to purchase His friendship. The whole testimony of Scripture assures us that His love is not bartered but freely given. Isaiah 55:1. Rather, I think, these words echo the evidence of friendship already established by grace, depicting the life of those that are in Christ, as being identified with the words of Christ. In the light of Christ crucified, every act of following after Him becomes the echo of His love already set upon us, and the evidence that we abide in the One who first laid down His life for His friends. And yes, that fruit is imperfect, often mingled with failure and sin; stumbling along the way, sometimes grievously, but, in mercy, the direction of their heart is Christward, for “the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus” their Lord, has fixated them there.
I think in one very real sense, Peter’s words to Christ are the anthem of every faltering friend. After his bitter fall and the grief of denying his friend, he never really ceased to love Christ, and from that broken place could only say, “Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.” John 21:17. In these words we hear the voice of faltering friends whose hearts are Christward, not for the constancy of their love, but for the constancy of His love that turned them to Himself. And so we circle back to those breathtaking words of Christ, “ye are my friends.” What began in wonder, ends in wonder still, not only in these words of infinite condescension, but in all of life. “Not that we loved God, but that He loved us, and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” I John 4:10. The Lord is ever mindful of his friends and surrounds himself with those that love him. Malachi 3:17. MPJ