The first thing we need to know, as we come to this passage, is that Jesus’ public ministry is at a real low point. His conflict with the religious authorities has continued to escalate, so that now they are seeking to kill Him. Many of His disciples have turned away, because they can’t make sense of the things He’s been saying. They were impressed with His miracles, but His teaching is just too much for them. During this low point in His public ministry, Jesus continues to preach the Word (the very thing that led to all these problems in the first place). Chapters seven and eight revolve around the Feast of Tabernacles, or Feast of Booths. This is one of Israel’s three main liturgical feasts. During this seven-day feast, the people would live in rough shelters made of Palm branches and boughs of trees, to remember the time the nation spent wandering in the wilderness after the Exodus from Egypt.
In chapter seven, Jesus travels secretly to the feast, and then appears suddenly in the Temple. On the eighth day, the greatest day of the feast, He offers Himself to all those who are spiritually thirsty: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Rivers of living water will brim and spill out of the depths of anyone who believes in me in this way, just as the Scripture says.” Each morning, during the seven-day feast, a priest would lead a procession to the pool of Siloam, fill a golden pitcher with water, and then return to the Temple and pour it out with the morning sacrifice. This was a reminder of the time God provided water out of a rock in the wilderness, and it pointed forward to the Messianic age, as Isaiah prophesied: “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation” (Isaiah 12:3). This water ritual was carried on each morning for seven days, then on the eighth day there was a solemn assembly. This eighth day was the “last and greatest day of the Feast.” On this day, the day when they were not offering the water ritual, Jesus stood and cried out in a loud voice, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.” What’s the point of this? All the things they’re doing at the feast point to Him. If they’ll come to Him, He’ll give them the Holy Spirit, who will become “streams of living water” flowing from within them. The whole celebration points to Him. The fulfillment of all their hopes and prayers is there in the Temple.
This passage in chapter 8, beginning at verse 12, follows naturally from chapter 7. The story of the woman caught in adultery is not found here in the best ancient manuscripts of the New Testament. In manuscripts that do have that story, some place it here at the beginning of John 8, some in John 7, and others in Luke 21. I believe it’s a genuine story from the ministry of Jesus, and I believe it belongs in the Bible. The New English Bible has it as an appendix to John’s gospel, which may be the best solution. It belongs in the Bible, but not here at the beginning of John 8. It interrupts the story line and obscures the connection between chapters 7 and 8.
In chapter 7, Jesus offers Himself as the water of life, the only source of spiritual refreshment in this dry, weary and waterless land. In chapter 8 He offers Himself as the light of the world. He’s still at the feast, and He’s drawing from another ritual. It’s the same day, the last and greatest day of the feast. Each evening of the feast, large lamps were lit in the Temple, and all evening, in the light of these lamps, the people would sing and dance in celebration of God’s salvation. The lamps were a reminder of the time during the Exodus when God accompanied His people in the pillar of fire at night. So on this last day of the feast, maybe in the evening, within sight of these great lamps, Jesus proclaims Himself to be the Light of the World. He’s the One they’ve been celebrating for the past seven days. He’s the One all this points to. The lamps not only point backward to the Exodus. They point forward to Him. Jesus is the Light of the World. Apart from Him, we’re in the darkness.
The first thing I want to point out is that He is the only safe place in this world of darkness. In verses 21-30, Jesus reminds them of the fragility and uncertainty of their lives: “You are from below; I am from above. You are of this world; I am not of this world. I told you that you would die in your sins; if you do not believe the I am the one I claim to be, you will indeed die in your sins.” This dark world is a dangerous place, and our lives are fragile. We never know whether this day might be our last. The order for night prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours reminds me of this each night. It leads me in confession of sin and in entrusting myself to God’s care, then it closes with the words, “May the all-powerful Lord grant us a restful night and a peaceful death.” It reminds me that, just as I lay aside all my work, all my unfinished projects, and entrust myself to God’s care for the night, one day I will lay aside all my unfinished projects and leave this world forever. We live in a fallen world, and we don’t know when our lives here will end.
Jesus is the only safe place of refuge in this dark world. “The Lord is my light and my salvation–whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life–of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1). Listen to these words from Hebrews: “Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity, so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death–that is, the devil–and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death” (2:14-15). They’re in slavery to the fear of death because they know life here is uncertain. They hear of people dying all the time, people who were going about the business of their lives with no expectation that it would all end so soon. But in Jesus, the Light of the World, there is refuge from the fear of death, because He’s gone ahead and tasted death for us. “The sting of death is sin.” We’re afraid to die, because we’re alienated from God. But we don’t have to die in our sins. Jesus is a safe place of refuge in this dark world.
The second thing I want to point out is that He is the only source of true freedom in this dark world. Verse 30 says that “many put their faith in him,” as a result of the things He’s been saying. So He responds to them: “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” They’re in bondage, although they don’t know it.
What does it mean to be free? Does it mean the liberty to do whatever I feel like doing? That’s what most people in our society seem to mean when they use the word “freedom.” I saw an interview once with a heroin addict. She described how she’d become addicted but said she was going to quit in the next week. She didn’t want to remain in that condition forever. She received pleasure from using heroin, but her life was miserable. She hated being an addict. The people who interviewed her checked back over the next several weeks, and, of course, she hadn’t quit. She wasn’t free. She was in bondage. The question to ask in this area of freedom is not, “do I have the freedom to do this?” The question to ask is, “will this bring me into bondage?” “Will I have the freedom to stop?” If you can’t stop, you’re not really free.
Several years ago I had a conversation with a man who was struggling with depression. He was married and was involved in a long-term affair with another woman; and he was addicted to pornography on the Internet. When I confronted him about the relationship between his lifestyle and his depression it was clear that he wasn’t going to make any changes. He was free to do what he wanted, but it was making him miserable. He was in bondage. He hated his life, but he couldn’t let go of his sin. He was free to do the things he was doing, but he wasn’t free to stop, and it was ruining his life (and the lives of his family members). Jesus says, “I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin.” Sin brings us into bondage; it destroys our freedom.
The message of Jesus Christ is a message of freedom. The picture of Christians as grim, unhappy legalists is a caricature. Many Christians fall into legalism, but it’s because they’ve lost sight of the gospel. Listen to these words from Eugene Peterson: “There are moments when a single truth seems to cry out for focused proclamation. For me one of those moments came in the early 1980's; freedom in Christ seemed the truth in need of focus. The end of a millennium was in sight. It would soon be two thousand years since Christ lived and died and rose again. The world had seen a succession of political and social revolutions that had featured the word freedom. Especially in the Western world, but hardly confined there, aspirations to freedom were very strong. But when I looked at the people I was living with as pastor–fairly affluent, well educated, somewhat knowledgeable about the Christian faith–I realized how unfree they were. They were buying expensive security systems to protect their possessions from burglary. They were overcome with anxieties in the face of rising inflation. They were pessimistic about the prospects for justice and peace in a world bristling with sophisticated weapons systems and nuclear devices. They were living huddled, worried, defensive lives. I wanted to shout in objection: Don’t live that way! You are Christians! Our lives can be a growth into freedom instead of a withdrawal into anxious wariness.... I became convinced that the experience of freedom in the life of faith is at the very heart of what it means to be human” (Living the Message, pp. 184-85). Jesus, the Light of the World, the only light in this dark world, offers us freedom from the things that enslave us. Our lives, in Christ, “can be a growth into freedom,” the freedom to be ourselves, the freedom to become the kind of people God created us to be.
The last thing I want to point out is that Jesus is the only One who can rescue us from the destruction that is coming upon this fallen world. He alone can rescue us from eternal death: “I tell you the truth, if anyone keeps my word, he will never see death.” This dark world is headed for destruction. But it’s not just that He rescues from destruction. It’s too common to see salvation as a rescue operation that amounts to nothing more than forgiveness of sins. We come to Jesus for forgiveness and then go on with our lives, assured that we have a place reserved in heaven. Salvation in the New Testament isn’t like that. Jesus doesn’t just rescue us from eternal death in that negative sense. He gives us eternal life: “And this is eternal life, to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” Jesus, the Light of the World, frees us from the eternal death that is coming upon this dark world, and He brings us into a relationship with God that begins now and extends into eternity.
So Jesus stands in the Temple on the last day of the feast, the day when the lamps will be extinguished, and He says to the worshipers there: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” This raises the question, “who exactly is He?” How can He make such outlandish claims for Himself. That’s what the religious leaders keep asking over the course of this chapter, but for the most part they don’t seem to understand what He’s saying. They’re blind, groping in the darkness.
The more clearly Jesus reveals His glory in this chapter, the more clearly He reveals the truth about His enemies. The Pharisees are already antagonistic; as soon as Jesus speaks, in verse 12, they jump on Him: “Here you are, appearing as your own witness; your testimony is not valid.” When Jesus says to some would-be disciples that knowing the truth will set them free, they’re insulted. Just what is He implying about them? They liked what He was saying before, but they didn’t come to be insulted. They’re not willing to accept His diagnosis of their spiritual condition. The discussion goes back and forth until Jesus says: “Why is my language not clear to you? Because you are unable to hear what I say. You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father’s desire.” The more clearly Jesus reveals Himself, the more clear their true spiritual condition becomes. These aren’t genuine disciples at all; they’ve had a superficial attraction to His message, but they’re not people who are going to continue in His Word.
Jesus last invitation in this chapter–“if anyone keeps my word he will never see death”–leads into a discussion about Abraham. How can He make this claim, since Abraham and the prophets died? Who does He think He is? How does He dare say such things? And Jesus responds to their questions with these amazing words: “I tell you the truth... before Abraham was born, I am!” He’s not just claiming to have existed before Abraham was born. He’s claiming to be the eternal God, the One who said to Moses, “I am that I am.” He’s identifying Himself with the One who said these words in Isaiah: “Who has done this and carried it through, calling forth the generations from the beginning? I, the Lord–with the first of them and with the last–I am he” (Isaiah 41:4). He’s claiming, in a way that they can’t miss, what John says about Him in the Prologue: “the Word was God.” This time they don’t miss it. They understand what He’s saying, and they respond by picking up rocks to stone Him for blasphemy.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.... And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” This is the One who’s present in the Temple during the Feast, who offers Himself as Living Water and as the Light of the World. Because He is the eternal Son of God, the Incarnate Second Person of the Trinity, He is able to be our refuge in this dark, fallen world. Because He is both our Creator and our Savior, He is able to offer us freedom from the things that bring us into bondage. And because He is the source of all life, knowing Him is eternal life. Knowing Him fulfills the deepest desires of our souls. Our hearts are restless until they find rest in Him; but in Him we do find rest. Jesus is the water of life, the only source of spiritual refreshment in this dry, weary, and waterless land. And He is the only source of light in this dark world.
