John Chapter 15
A. Relating to Jesus When He Departs
(John 15:1–3):
“I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit. You are already clean because of the word which I have spoken to you.”
Jesus begins this new section with one of His seven great “I AM” statements, declaring Himself to be the true vine. The vine was a familiar symbol in Israel. In the Old Testament, God repeatedly used the image of the vine as a representation of His people. For instance, Psalm 80:8–9 says, “You have brought a vine out of Egypt; You have cast out the nations, and planted it. You prepared room for it, and caused it to take deep root, and it filled the land.” Yet, this imagery was often used negatively, pointing to Israel’s unfaithfulness. Isaiah 5:1–2, 7 records, “Now let me sing to my Well-beloved a song of my Beloved regarding His vineyard: My Well-beloved has a vineyard on a very fruitful hill. He dug it up and cleared out its stones, and planted it with the choicest vine. He built a tower in its midst, and also made a winepress in it; so He expected it to bring forth good grapes, but it brought forth wild grapes… For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the men of Judah are His pleasant plant. He looked for justice, but behold, oppression; for righteousness, but behold, a cry for help.” Similarly, Jeremiah 2:21 laments, “Yet I had planted you a noble vine, a seed of highest quality. How then have you turned before Me into the degenerate plant of an alien vine?”
Thus, when Jesus says, “I am the true vine,” He is presenting Himself as the faithful and authentic source of life and fruitfulness in contrast to unfaithful Israel. Just days earlier, He had used the vineyard imagery in the parable of the wicked tenants, warning of Israel’s failure and the judgment that would follow (Matthew 21:33–44). In that parable, the vineyard is taken from Israel and entrusted to others who would bear fruit. Here, Jesus makes it clear that fruitfulness in God’s kingdom can only come through union with Him.
The setting of this teaching is important. Jesus and His disciples are likely leaving the upper room, moving toward the Garden of Gethsemane. Along the way, grapevines were abundant throughout Judea, and on the temple itself there was an enormous golden vine symbolizing Israel. Jesus uses this familiar sight to teach His disciples about abiding in Him. As Missler notes, the vine was also a messianic symbol in Jewish thought.The contrast is sharp: not Israel, not even religious tradition, but Jesus Himself is the true vine. For the believer, identity must be found in Christ alone, not in heritage, not in religious institutions, and not in self-effort.
The imagery of the vine and branches stresses absolute dependence. A sheep depends on its shepherd, and a child depends on its father, but a branch depends on the vine in an even more radical way. The branch has no life in itself apart from the vine. All nourishment, vitality, and fruit-bearing flow directly from the vine. In this way, Jesus reassures His disciples, who are troubled by the news of His departure, that their relationship to Him will remain unbroken. Though He is leaving physically, their union with Him will be as real and vital as the connection of branches to the vine.
Jesus then identifies the Father as the vinedresser. In the Old Testament, God was pictured as the one who tended Israel, His vineyard. That role continues here, but now the Father’s care is centered on those who are united to Christ. This means the believer has a relationship with both the Son, who is the vine, and the Father, who is the vinedresser. The Father is intimately engaged in cultivating the life of His people, ensuring fruitfulness and removing what is dead or unproductive.
Jesus declares, “Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.” The phrase “takes away” is debated. Some interpreters argue it means removal in judgment, pointing to those who profess connection to Christ but prove false by their fruitlessness. Others note that the Greek verb airo can also mean “to lift up.” In viticulture, unproductive branches were lifted from the ground, tied up, and trained so they might grow properly and bear fruit. Both truths may be in view: the Father judges false profession, and He also mercifully lifts up struggling believers to restore them to fruitfulness. The contrast is clear—God’s desire is not fruitlessness, but abundant fruit.
Fruit-bearing branches, however, are not left untouched. Jesus says the Father prunes them, so they may bear more fruit. The word translated “prunes” is the same as the word “cleanses.” Just as the vinedresser removes dead wood and trims excess growth that hinders productivity, God works in the life of His people through discipline, trials, and correction, to increase their fruitfulness. As Morris observes, left to itself a vine produces much useless growth, but pruning ensures that the life of the plant is directed into what is productive. Spiritually, this process may be painful, yet it is necessary. As Trapp reminds us, “Better be pruned to grow than cut up to burn.”
Jesus concludes, “You are already clean because of the word which I have spoken to you.” The disciples had already been “cleansed” by receiving His word. This echoes His earlier statement in the upper room: “He who is bathed needs only to wash his feet, but is completely clean; and you are clean, but not all of you” (John 13:10). The cleansing of the Word is both initial and continual. By hearing and believing the words of Christ, they had experienced the cleansing of salvation. By continuing to receive His Word, they would be pruned and sanctified. As Paul later wrote, Christ cleanses His church “with the washing of water by the word” (Ephesians 5:26). God’s Word convicts of sin, calls to holiness, nourishes growth, and equips believers for fruitful service.
2. The Vital Relationship Between the Branch and the Vine
(John 15:4–5):
“Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing.”
Jesus builds upon the vine metaphor, now emphasizing the necessity of abiding. He commands, “Abide in Me, and I in you.” This speaks of a mutual indwelling: the believer abiding in Christ, and Christ abiding in the believer. This truth is poetically echoed in Song of Solomon 6:3, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” The imagery communicates intimacy, constancy, and an unbroken bond. For the disciples, soon to face His departure, these words assured them that their relationship with Jesus would not end with His physical absence. Though He would go to the Father, He would remain present in them through the Spirit.
Yet Jesus’ words also imply responsibility. Abiding is not automatic; it is a choice. The believer must intentionally remain in fellowship, drawing near through obedience, prayer, and the Word. As Boice notes, when Jesus says, “Abide in Me,” He appeals to the will, to the deliberate decisions of the disciple. We must choose the practices that expose us to His presence and keep us connected. This is why John later writes, “He who says he abides in Him ought himself also to walk just as He walked” (1 John 2:6). To abide is not a momentary act but a continual posture of dependence and devotion.
Jesus illustrates this by reminding them of a simple agricultural fact: “As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me.” A branch has no independent life; cut off from the vine, it withers. Likewise, disciples cannot produce fruit apart from Christ. Spiritual vitality, holy character, and effective service flow only from union with Him. As Trapp observes, “The bud of a good desire, the blossom of a good resolution, and the fruit of a good action, all come from Him.” This undercuts human pride and self-sufficiency. Good works that are not rooted in Christ may impress outwardly, but they lack eternal value.
Jesus restates the point plainly: “I am the vine, you are the branches.” This likely struck the disciples deeply, for they had long thought of Israel as the vine, with fruitfulness tied to their covenant heritage. But Jesus now centers fruitfulness in Himself, not in national or institutional identity. The believer’s connection must be with Him personally, not merely with religious tradition. This transition from Israel-as-vine to Christ-as-vine marks the shift to the New Covenant, where spiritual life flows directly from union with the Son.
The result of abiding is clear: “He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit.” Fruit-bearing is inevitable for those who remain in Christ. While the degree may vary, the presence of fruit is non-negotiable. Just as grapevines are cultivated not for their leaves but for their clusters of grapes, so disciples are called to produce the fruit of Christlikeness. Paul identifies this as the fruit of the Spirit: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22–23). Fruit also suggests reproduction, for every grape contains seeds. So, abiding in Christ not only transforms the believer’s character but also multiplies life in others, as the gospel spreads through the testimony of transformed lives.
Jesus adds the sobering truth: “For without Me you can do nothing.” This does not mean that people cannot be busy or active apart from Him—indeed, His enemies were very active. But nothing of eternal weight or true spiritual value can be accomplished apart from Christ. As Spurgeon comments, “These words mean Godhead or nothing.” The necessity of abiding in Christ reveals His deity, for only God could be the sole source of life and fruitfulness for His people. Trench expands, noting that a branch cut off from the vine may still retain enough sap to sprout leaves temporarily, giving the appearance of life, but true fruit will never come. In the same way, one who departs from Christ may maintain a form of religion for a season, but fruitfulness withers when the life-source is gone.
The apostle Paul echoes this truth with different language: “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20), and again, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). True Christian life is not a matter of human effort supplemented by divine help, but of Christ’s life flowing through the believer. Without Him, we can do nothing; with Him, we can do all things according to His will.
3. The Price of Not Abiding and the Promise to Those Who Do Abide
(John 15:6–8):
“If anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out as a branch and is withered; and they gather them and throw them into the fire, and they are burned. If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, you will ask what you desire, and it shall be done for you. By this My Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit; so you will be My disciples.”
Jesus issues a solemn warning to His disciples, declaring, “If anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out as a branch and is withered.” The imagery is both vivid and sobering. A branch possesses no life in itself apart from the vine. When separated, it dries, shrivels, and becomes worthless. In the same way, the one who does not abide in Christ forfeits spiritual vitality and proves lifeless. Notice the progression of judgment: first, the branch is cast out; then it withers; afterward it is gathered, thrown into the fire, and finally, it is burned. This escalating sequence underscores the seriousness of not abiding in Christ. Jesus does not say, “If anyone does not bear fruit, he is cast out,” but rather, “If anyone does not abide in Me.” Fruitfulness is the evidence, but abiding is the condition. Outward fruit can sometimes deceive human judgment, but Christ knows with certainty who truly abides in Him.
The statement that such branches are “thrown into the fire” recalls Old Testament imagery where fire signifies divine judgment. Ezekiel wrote of Israel’s vine wood: “Indeed, it is useless either for work or for fuel, and it is thrown into the fire for fuel; the fire devours both ends of it, and its middle is burned” (Ezekiel 15:3–4). The parallel is clear: lifeless branches are good for nothing except to be destroyed. For the disciples, this warning would have been especially poignant in light of Judas’ betrayal, for he had appeared to abide but proved otherwise.
This passage has been understood in several ways regarding the security of professed disciples. Some argue that these branches represent genuine believers who lose salvation, yet this interpretation conflicts with the broader teaching of Scripture on the perseverance of the saints (John 10:28–29; Romans 8:38–39). A second interpretation sees these branches as false disciples who were never truly in Christ—such as Judas—whose fruitlessness reveals their lack of genuine union. A third view takes the burning as metaphorical, not of eternal damnation, but of wasted lives, where a believer is saved “yet so as through fire” (1 Corinthians 3:15), like Lot whose works perished though he himself was spared. Regardless of interpretive nuances, the central thrust remains: there are no true disciples who do not abide. Abiding is the very essence of life in Christ.
Yet Jesus moves quickly from warning to promise: “If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, you will ask what you desire, and it shall be done for you.” Abiding in Christ cannot be separated from abiding in His words. Earlier Jesus had said, “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him” (John 14:23). The Word of Christ anchors the believer in His presence, shaping desires and guiding petitions. Prayer, then, becomes the natural outflow of abiding. As Spurgeon notes, “Prayer is the natural outgushing of a soul in communion with Jesus.” The promise of answered prayer is not a blank check for selfish requests, but the assurance that when Christ’s words saturate the heart, the believer’s desires align with God’s will. In such a case, God is pleased to answer, for the prayers themselves are shaped by His Spirit.
Jesus continues, “By this My Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit; so you will be My disciples.” The ultimate aim of fruit-bearing is not self-glory, but the glory of God. Just as a flourishing vineyard brings honor to the vinedresser, so a fruitful life magnifies the Father’s wisdom, power, and grace. Clarke comments that God is honored in having strong, vigorous children, wholly devoted to Him. The test of genuine discipleship, then, is not mere profession but abundant fruit over time. As Jesus taught in the parable of the soils, the good ground is revealed not by immediate growth but by endurance and fruitfulness (Matthew 13:23).
Fruit here is broad in scope. It includes the fruit of the Spirit in character (Galatians 5:22–23), the fruit of lips that confess His name (Hebrews 13:15), the fruit of good works in service (Colossians 1:10), and even the fruit of reproduction as disciples make more disciples (John 4:36). The abiding disciple glorifies God by a life that cannot be explained apart from Christ. In this way, abiding in Christ ensures not only spiritual vitality but also eternal significance.
4. The Link Between Love and Obedience
(John 15:9–11):
“As the Father loved Me, I also have loved you; abide in My love. If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love, just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love. These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full.”
Jesus now shifts from the imagery of vine and branches to the language of love and obedience. He begins, “As the Father loved Me, I also have loved you.” This sets the highest possible standard for divine love. The Father’s eternal, perfect, infinite love for the Son is the model of Christ’s love for His disciples. This is no passing affection or sentimental warmth, but a deliberate, sacrificial, and eternal love. We know the Father demonstrated His love for the Son by guiding Him, sustaining Him, exalting Him, and affirming Him. In like manner, Jesus demonstrated His love to the disciples by teaching them, protecting them, guiding them, and serving them, even unto death.
The language itself is staggering. Jesus did not say, “I love you as a mother loves her child” or “as a soldier loves his comrade,” but He appealed to the deepest, most profound analogy possible: the Father’s love for the Son. Morgan calls this Christ’s “superlative word” concerning His love, for nothing deeper could be said. Spurgeon adds that just as we never question the Father’s love for the Son, so we must not doubt Christ’s love for His own. The Father’s love for the Son has no beginning, no end, no measure, no change, and is utterly personal. Jesus places His love for His disciples in that same category, commanding them to rest confidently in it.
He then exhorts, “Abide in My love.” To abide in His love is to remain rooted, anchored, and continually conscious of His care. The essence of discipleship is not first in activity, nor in achievement, but in abiding. Out of all Christ’s attributes—His wisdom, His holiness, His power—it is His love that He highlights as the sphere in which His disciples must remain. Abiding in His love is not a mystical feeling but a lived reality. Jesus explains the means plainly: “If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love, just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love.”
Here the link between love and obedience is unmistakable. Just as Jesus perfectly obeyed the Father, demonstrating His love and enjoying unbroken fellowship, so the disciple must obey Jesus’ commandments to remain in His love. Love is not sentiment apart from obedience, nor is obedience empty legalism. Love and obedience are bound together, with love motivating obedience and obedience safeguarding love. Earlier Jesus had said, “If you love Me, keep My commandments” (John 14:15), and again, “He who has My commandments and keeps them, it is he who loves Me” (John 14:21). Love proves itself in action, and obedience proves itself by love.
The commandments in view are not vague. In the upper room, Jesus emphasized loving one another sacrificially (John 13:34–35), serving one another humbly, and trusting the Father and the Son fully. These specific acts summarize the broader principle: the disciple who abides in Christ’s love will naturally keep His word.
Finally, Jesus reveals the purpose of His teaching: “These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full.” The goal is not drudgery or servitude, but joy. Yet this joy is distinct from worldly happiness or fleeting excitement. The joy of Jesus is the holy exultation of being right with the Father, the settled gladness of communion with Him, and the abiding delight of resting in His love. As Alford notes, Jesus speaks not of joy “about Him” or “from Him,” but of His very own joy—My joy—imparted to His people. His disciples had seen this joy in Him throughout His ministry; it was not foreign or abstract but a daily reality in their fellowship with Him.
The result of abiding in His love and walking in obedience is fullness of joy. The metaphor suggests a vessel filled to the brim, nothing lacking. Clarke comments that Christ’s religion, received in its fullness, expels misery from the heart. Spurgeon adds that God designed humanity for joy, and Christ came not only to restore what sin had ruined but to bring a deeper and sweeter joy than Adam ever knew in Eden. Conversely, when believers fail to abide, they forfeit this fullness. As Carson observes, no one is more miserable than the Christian who compromises—too drawn to sin to enjoy holiness, and too drawn to Christ to enjoy sin. Such divided souls are robbed of joy, while those who abide in Christ’s love know fullness of joy that only He can give.
B. Relating to Each Other When Jesus Departs
1. Jesus Speaks of the Extent of His Love That They Are to Imitate
(John 15:12–15):
“This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends. You are My friends if you do whatever I command you. No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I heard from My Father I have made known to you.”
Jesus continues His farewell discourse by returning to one of His most central themes: love. He commands, “This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” This echoes His earlier instruction in the upper room: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another” (John 13:34). The repetition shows urgency. Just as the vine and branch imagery emphasized abiding in Christ, so now the emphasis turns to the mutual love that must characterize His disciples once He departs.
This love is not to be defined by cultural standards or by human emotion but by Christ’s own love: sacrificial, patient, forgiving, and enduring. Jesus loved His disciples by teaching them, serving them, correcting them, and ultimately by giving His life for them. His love was not sentimental but purposeful, measured against the Father’s own love. As Tenney observes, unity must replace rivalry, trust must replace suspicion, and obedience must replace self-assertion in the disciples’ relationships. Love would be the guiding principle in their mission. Dods notes that while the disciples may have expected detailed instructions for ministry—as in their first commission (Matthew 10)—Jesus instead gave them this single directive: love one another. This commandment, repeated until the aged apostle John himself was known to say continually, “Little children, love one another,” is sufficient to govern all Christian conduct.
Jesus then sets the standard: “Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.” This points directly to His own impending sacrifice on the cross. Clarke rightly comments that when a man gives his life, he gives all that he has. No higher demonstration of love exists. In less than twenty-four hours, Jesus would prove this truth by laying down His life for His disciples—and for all who would believe through their word (Romans 5:8). This teaching also sets the pattern for Christian love: to lay down one’s life for others, whether literally in martyrdom or daily in self-denial and service.
Jesus then elevates their relationship: “You are My friends if you do whatever I command you.” This statement both honors and humbles. It honors them by calling them friends, not merely servants. In the rabbinical culture of the day, disciples were bound to their teacher but were not considered equals or companions. Yet Jesus calls them His friends, implying intimacy, partnership, and trust. In the ancient world, a servant could be loyal and useful, but never a confidant. A friend, however, shared in purpose. This is why Tenney describes the friend as “a confidant who shares the knowledge of his superior’s purpose and voluntarily adopts it as his own.”
Yet this friendship is not without condition. Jesus says, “You are My friends if you do whatever I command you.” True friendship with Christ cannot be divorced from obedience. Spurgeon noted that friendship with Christ is not merely abstaining from sin but actively obeying His commands. Many profess love for Christ while ignoring His Word; yet Jesus makes obedience the evidence of genuine friendship.
Finally, Jesus adds, “No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I heard from My Father I have made known to you.” Servants obey orders without full understanding; friends are brought into confidence. Jesus reveals that His relationship with the disciples is no longer one of blind obedience but of shared knowledge. He had disclosed to them the Father’s plans, purposes, and promises. Unlike a slave who serves without knowing why, they would now serve with understanding, motivated by love and partnership in His mission.
This shift—from servants to friends—marks the disciples’ entrance into a new stage of relationship with Christ under the New Covenant. They are not mere tools in His hand, but trusted partners in the work of God, bound by obedience yet elevated to friendship. Wesley once described his conversion as exchanging “the faith of a servant for the faith of a son.” Here, the disciples exchange the posture of servants for the privilege of friendship, grounded in obedience and knowledge of God’s will.
2. Chosen to Bear Fruit and to Love One Another
(John 15:16–17):
“You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should remain, that whatever you ask the Father in My name He may give you. These things I command you, that you love one another.”
Jesus reminds His disciples of a vital truth: “You did not choose Me, but I chose you.” In the Jewish rabbinical tradition, students typically chose their teachers, seeking out rabbis whose interpretation of the Law aligned with their desires. By contrast, Jesus makes clear that His disciples had not taken the initiative; He had sovereignly chosen them. This statement was meant to guard them against pride. He had just called them His friends, promised them fruitfulness, and assured them of answered prayer. These privileges were not rewards they had earned but gifts rooted in His gracious choice. As Meyer puts it, “We are in Christ, not because we hold Him, but because He holds us.”
This truth also reflects the larger reality of salvation: no one comes to Christ by their own initiative. Jesus had already said, “No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him” (John 6:44). Election is rooted in God’s sovereign grace, not human merit. This truth humbles the believer while also securing their confidence, for if salvation rests on God’s choice rather than man’s, it cannot be undone by human weakness.
Jesus continues, “I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should remain.” The purpose of election is not idleness or privilege but fruitfulness. They were chosen and set apart for active service, for a life that produces lasting results to the glory of God. Alford notes that the word go likely refers not only to missionary journeys but to the active living out of their calling in every sphere. The fruit Jesus speaks of includes both the inward fruit of transformed character—the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22–23)—and the outward fruit of ministry, bringing others into the kingdom. Most importantly, this fruit is to remain. Temporary enthusiasm or fleeting accomplishments are not the goal; lasting transformation and enduring impact are.
Jesus ties this purpose once again to prayer: “that whatever you ask the Father in My name He may give you.” Fruit-bearing and answered prayer are inseparably linked. As disciples live in union with Christ, producing fruit by His Spirit, their prayers align with His will, and the Father delights to answer. This echoes His earlier promise: “And whatever you ask in My name, that I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son” (John 14:13). Thus, prayer is both the means by which disciples receive the resources for fruitfulness and the evidence that they are abiding in Christ.
Jesus concludes with a repetition of His command: “These things I command you, that you love one another.” Once again, He circles back to love. Their mission could not succeed if they turned against each other in rivalry or disbanded in fear after His departure. The glue that would hold them together and mark them as His disciples would be mutual love. As Paul later wrote, “Above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfection” (Colossians 3:14). Love among Christ’s followers is not optional sentiment but the essential command that sustains unity, fuels service, and glorifies God.
C. Relating to the World When Jesus Departs
1. The World May Reject the Disciples Because of Who They Are
(John 15:18–20):
“If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Remember the word that I said to you, ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you. If they kept My word, they will keep yours also.”
Jesus prepares His disciples for the inevitable hostility of the world. He begins with a straightforward reality: “If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you.” Hatred from the world should not come as a surprise but as an expected consequence of being aligned with Him. Despite His perfect goodness, His unmatched compassion, and His divine authority, the world rejected Him. Therefore, His followers should not expect better treatment than their Master received.
History confirms this truth. Nearly all of the apostles Jesus spoke to on that night would suffer martyrdom. According to church tradition, every one of them, except John, died for their faith. John himself was persecuted, exiled, and even miraculously preserved through attempts on his life. Early Christians as a whole endured slander and hatred. Roman historians like Tacitus described them as “hated for their crimes, whom the mob called Christians,” while Suetonius dismissed them as followers of a “new and evil superstition.” Tacitus even accused them of “hatred of the human race.” Thus, Christians were vilified for the very devotion that set them apart. As Morris notes, the disciples are known by their love, while the world is known by its hatred.
Jesus offers comfort in perspective: “You know that it hated Me before it hated you.” The verb hated is in the perfect tense, implying a settled, abiding hostility. This animosity against Christ continues through His people. On the road to Damascus, when Saul persecuted the church, Jesus Himself said, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?” (Acts 9:4). To attack Christ’s people is to attack Christ Himself, showing the continuity between the world’s rejection of Him and of His disciples. As Trench observes, Christ and the world are utterly antagonistic: the world is glad to forget God, but Jesus came to bring men back to Him.
The reason for this hatred is explained: “If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you.” To be “of the world” is to share its values, priorities, and rebellion against God. But believers are different; they have been called out by Christ and set apart for Him. This difference is not superficial but essential. Dods even suggests that the world’s hatred can be taken as evidence of discipleship, proof that Christ has chosen them out of the world. For the Christian, rejection by the world is not failure but confirmation of belonging to Christ.
Jesus reinforces the principle with a reminder: “Remember the word that I said to you, ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’” Earlier He used this same phrase when teaching them about humility and servanthood in washing one another’s feet (John 13:16). Here, He applies it to suffering and persecution. If the Master faced opposition, the servants should expect the same. The logic is simple and sobering: “If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you. If they kept My word, they will keep yours also.” Just as responses to Jesus were divided—some persecuted Him while others received His word—so too the disciples would experience both rejection and reception. Yet the dominant expectation is persecution, for Jesus Himself was overwhelmingly opposed. Tasker paraphrases the final statement: “They will pay the same attention to your words as to Mine; that is, none.”
2. The World May Reject Disciples Because of Who Jesus Is
(John 15:21–25):
“But all these things they will do to you for My name’s sake, because they do not know Him who sent Me. If I had not come and spoken to them, they would have no sin, but now they have no excuse for their sin. He who hates Me hates My Father also. If I had not done among them the works which no one else did, they would have no sin; but now they have seen and also hated both Me and My Father. But this happened that the word might be fulfilled which is written in their law, ‘They hated Me without a cause.’”
Jesus explains that the world’s hostility is not merely because of the disciples’ identity, but because of His name. He says, “All these things they will do to you for My name’s sake, because they do not know Him who sent Me.” The world’s rejection of the disciples is fundamentally rooted in its ignorance of God. Though many claim to know God, apart from Christ they cannot truly know Him. As Trench notes, people often construct their own idea of God shaped by culture and personal desires, but the true knowledge of God comes only through the Son. Thus, to reject Christ is to demonstrate a failure to know the Father.
Jesus continues, “If I had not come and spoken to them, they would have no sin, but now they have no excuse for their sin.” His coming, His words, and His works brought divine revelation in a way humanity had never before experienced. The rejection of Jesus was not due to ignorance but to willful rebellion. His teaching exposed sin, stripped away hypocrisy, and revealed the heart. As Tenney observes, both His life and His words condemned human corruption, provoking hostility in those unwilling to repent. His miracles, likewise, were undeniable demonstrations of divine power. Maclaren points out that Jesus considered His words the deeper revelation of God, even beyond His miracles, because they disclosed the very heart and nature of the Father.
Jesus then declares a profound reality: “He who hates Me hates My Father also.” There is no separating the Son from the Father. To despise Jesus is to despise the One who sent Him. This verse obliterates any notion that one can honor God while rejecting Christ. As John later writes, “Whoever denies the Son does not have the Father either; he who acknowledges the Son has the Father also” (1 John 2:23). The hatred directed toward Jesus thus reveals itself as hatred toward God Himself.
To emphasize the gravity of this guilt, Jesus repeats: “If I had not done among them the works which no one else did, they would have no sin; but now they have seen and also hated both Me and My Father.” The miracles of Jesus were unique in scope, power, and purpose. They were not tricks or spectacles but compassionate acts that restored sight to the blind, raised the dead, calmed storms, and cleansed lepers. No one else had done such works, and yet, instead of worship, many responded with hatred. Their sin was compounded by the fact that their rejection was against overwhelming evidence.
Finally, Jesus roots this rejection in Scripture: “But this happened that the word might be fulfilled which is written in their law, ‘They hated Me without a cause.’” He cites Psalm 69:4: “Those who hate me without a cause are more than the hairs of my head; they are mighty who would destroy me, being my enemies wrongfully.” This psalm, understood messianically, finds its fulfillment in Christ. The world’s hatred was unreasonable and unjustified, yet it was foretold in Scripture. As Tenney observes, the irony is sharp: those who prided themselves as defenders of the Law fulfilled the Law’s prophecy by becoming its violators.
For the disciples, this carried two lessons. First, persecution was not to be taken personally—it was ultimately hatred of Christ and the Father. Second, their suffering should mirror Christ’s: unjust, without cause, and undeserved. Peter later exhorted believers, “If you are reproached for the name of Christ, blessed are you, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. On their part He is blasphemed, but on your part He is glorified. But let none of you suffer as a murderer, a thief, an evildoer, or as a busybody in other people’s matters. Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in this matter” (1 Peter 4:14–16). Christians are called to suffer for righteousness’ sake, not for wrongdoing, and in doing so they share in the fellowship of Christ’s sufferings.
3. The Witness of the Holy Spirit and the Disciples
(John 15:26–27):
“But when the Helper comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me. And you also will bear witness, because you have been with Me from the beginning.”
Jesus concludes this section of His discourse by introducing the role of the Holy Spirit in the face of the world’s hatred and rejection. He says, “But when the Helper comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me.” This is the second major passage in which Jesus promises the Helper (also translated Advocate, Comforter, or Counselor), having already mentioned Him earlier in John 14:16, 26. Jesus knows the disciples cannot endure persecution or fulfill their mission apart from divine assistance, so He assures them that the Spirit’s presence and power will sustain them.
The Spirit is described as the “Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father.” This statement highlights both His nature and His origin. He is the Spirit of truth, never misleading, never contradicting the Word of Christ, but always pointing to what is consistent with God’s character. His work is to reveal Christ, not Himself. At the same time, the phrase “proceeds from the Father” touches on one of the great controversies of church history. The Western church, following Augustine and later the Nicene Creed’s filioque clause, affirmed that the Spirit proceeds from both the Father and the Son. The Eastern church objected, insisting that the Spirit proceeds from the Father alone. As Bruce notes, the issue was less about the theology itself—for the Son clearly sends the Spirit (as Jesus says here)—and more about the unilateral alteration of the creed without ecumenical agreement. From a Baptist perspective, the emphasis remains on the unity of the Godhead: the Spirit is fully divine, sent by the Son, proceeding from the Father, accomplishing the will of both.
Jesus explains the Spirit’s work: “He will testify of Me.” The Spirit does not draw attention to Himself but to Christ. All true ministry of the Spirit is Christ-centered. He bears witness to who Jesus is, what He has done, and what He continues to do in the life of believers. Any so-called spiritual movement or manifestation that detracts from Christ, diminishes His glory, or contradicts His Word cannot be from the Holy Spirit. The Spirit’s ministry is to magnify Christ, as Jesus later says: “He will glorify Me, for He will take of what is Mine and declare it to you” (John 16:14).
Jesus then turns to the disciples: “And you also will bear witness, because you have been with Me from the beginning.” The Spirit’s testimony is joined with the disciples’ testimony, forming one united witness. Tasker observes that the Spirit’s witness and the apostles’ witness are “in effect a single witness.” Morris adds that while the Spirit empowers their testimony, the disciples are still responsible to proclaim Christ; they cannot leave it all to the Spirit’s invisible work. This dual testimony was especially crucial for the apostles, who were eyewitnesses of Jesus’ ministry. Luke described this in his Gospel preface: “Just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word delivered them to us” (Luke 1:2). The Spirit inspired their testimony, and the Gospels stand as the enduring record of that Spirit-empowered witness.
The qualification for their witness is simply this: “because you have been with Me from the beginning.” They had walked with Jesus, heard His words, seen His miracles, and shared His life. Their authority as witnesses was rooted in personal experience with the living Christ, now reinforced by the Spirit’s indwelling. This pattern extends to all believers: while only the apostles were eyewitnesses of Jesus’ earthly ministry, every Christian bears witness through the Spirit’s presence, testifying to the reality of Christ’s saving work in their lives.
