John Chapter 18
Jesus’ Arrest and Trial
A. Betrayal and Arrest in the Garden
1. Jesus Enters the Garden, Followed by Judas and His Troops
“When Jesus had spoken these words, He went out with His disciples over the Brook Kidron, where there was a garden, which He and His disciples entered. And Judas, who betrayed Him, also knew the place; for Jesus often met there with His disciples. Then Judas, having received a detachment of troops, and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees, came there with lanterns, torches, and weapons.” (John 18:1–3, NKJV)
After completing His high priestly prayer in John 17, Jesus crossed from Jerusalem over the Brook Kidron with His disciples. This brook was more than a geographical landmark; it carried rich symbolism. During the Passover season, it was stained red with the blood of thousands of sacrificial lambs that had been slain in the temple. As Jesus stepped across those waters, He would have been vividly reminded that He Himself was about to become the final Passover Lamb, the One of whom John the Baptist had declared: “Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). The very brook over which He walked bore witness to His imminent sacrifice. As commentators have noted, the Kidron channel carried the blood and refuse from the temple altar, serving as a visible, sobering reminder that Jesus’ own blood would soon flow to atone for sin.
John notes simply that Jesus entered “a garden.” The Synoptic Gospels identify this as Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36; Mark 14:32). The name means “oil press,” fitting for the place where the Son of God would be pressed with grief, sorrow, and the weight of the world’s sin. Luke 21:37 indicates that during the week leading up to His crucifixion, Jesus spent the nights on the Mount of Olives. John’s wording, however, suggests that this was not merely a temporary arrangement but a long-standing custom—Jesus often withdrew to this quiet place with His disciples. This detail emphasizes that Jesus was not hiding from His enemies. He went to the very place where Judas would expect Him, showing that His arrest was voluntary and that His betrayal fulfilled the sovereign plan of God.
John does not record the agony of Jesus’ prayer in the garden (which Matthew, Mark, and Luke describe), but that omission is intentional. John’s Gospel consistently emphasizes Jesus’ divine authority and His sovereign control over the events of His passion. Where the Synoptics highlight His humanity in Gethsemane, John presents the divine dignity of the Son of God who goes willingly to the cross.
Judas then arrived with a detachment of troops and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees. The word for “detachment” (Greek speira) can mean a cohort of Roman soldiers, often numbering around six hundred men, though it may also refer to a smaller unit such as a maniple of two hundred. Even if only a portion of the full cohort came, the force was unnecessarily large for the arrest of one unarmed teacher. Alongside them were the temple police, Levites who served as guards for the temple grounds. This mixture of Jewish and Roman forces demonstrates the collaboration of both authorities against Christ.
They came equipped with lanterns and torches despite it being Passover season, when the full moon gave light. The lamps were likely intended to search for Jesus should He try to hide in the olive groves. Their weapons—swords and clubs—indicated they expected resistance or feared that His followers might fight back. Yet Jesus had always taught openly and without violence, even saying, “I sat daily with you, teaching in the temple, and you did not seize Me.” (Matthew 26:55). Their excessive force revealed both their ignorance of His character and their blindness to His authority.
The presence of such a force also reveals Judas’ distorted perception of Jesus. After walking with Him for three years, Judas still misunderstood His mission, perhaps imagining that Jesus would resist arrest with supernatural power. Yet Judas underestimated both Christ’s sovereignty and His submission to the Father’s will.
This scene recalls the contrast between the first Adam and the last Adam. In the first garden, a sinless man faced Satan and fell, plunging all humanity into sin (Genesis 3). In this garden, the sinless Son of God confronted Satan’s schemes through Judas, yet He did not fall. Instead, He triumphed, submitting Himself to the Father’s plan of redemption. As Luke records, “Then Satan entered Judas” (Luke 22:3), showing that this was more than a human betrayal—it was the clash of heaven’s Champion against the adversary himself. The Second Adam succeeded where the first had failed.
2. Jesus Speaks to Judas and the Detachment of Troops
“Jesus therefore, knowing all things that would come upon Him, went forward and said to them, ‘Whom are you seeking?’ They answered Him, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus said to them, ‘I am He.’ And Judas, who betrayed Him, also stood with them. Now when He said to them, ‘I am He,’ they drew back and fell to the ground.” (John 18:4–6, NKJV)
Jesus, fully aware of the Father’s plan, stepped forward with boldness. The text emphasizes that He “knew all things that would come upon Him.” Judas had no chance of surprising Him, for Christ was not a victim caught off guard but the sovereign Son of God who embraced the hour appointed before the foundation of the world (Acts 2:23; Revelation 13:8). His entire earthly ministry pointed toward this moment, and every step was directed by divine purpose.
Instead of hiding or shrinking back, Jesus asked, “Whom are you seeking?” He took control of the confrontation, forcing His enemies to declare openly their intent. This served at least two purposes: first, to protect His disciples from unnecessary harm by identifying Himself as the sole target, and second, to make Judas and the soldiers confess the darkness of their mission. Jesus’ question drew out their wickedness into the open.
They answered, “Jesus of Nazareth.” This title, though factually correct, was often used as a reproach. Nazareth was a despised place (John 1:46), yet Jesus willingly bore this name of humiliation. As one commentator put it, He wore the scorn like a crown, for in His humility He fulfilled the words of the prophet: “He is despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). That He chose to be identified in this way shows His willingness to embrace shame on behalf of sinners.
Jesus replied, “I am He.” In the Greek text, however, He simply declared “ego eimi”—“I am.” The word “He” is supplied by translators for clarity, but the original wording unmistakably echoes the divine name revealed to Moses in Exodus 3:14: “I AM WHO I AM.” This was not a mere acknowledgment of identity, but a deliberate assertion of His deity. Throughout John’s Gospel, this phrase marks divine self-revelation (John 6:48; 8:12; 10:11; 11:25; 14:6; 15:1), culminating in His climactic statement in John 8:58: “Most assuredly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I AM.” In this moment, Jesus proclaimed that the same God who spoke from the burning bush now stood in the garden, surrendering not in weakness but in divine authority.
The effect was immediate and overwhelming: “They drew back and fell to the ground.” With nothing more than two words, Jesus unveiled a glimpse of His majesty, and the armed cohort collapsed before Him. This was a demonstration of His power and sovereignty, a reminder that no man could take His life from Him apart from His willing submission (John 10:17–18). Even Judas, who had walked with Him for years, stood powerless in the face of this revelation.
Theologians have long noted the parallel here between Christ’s humiliation and His glory. At the very moment He appeared weakest, preparing to be bound and led away, He displayed irresistible power. He was born in obscurity, yet heralded by angels (Luke 2:13–14). He lay in a manger, yet a star testified of Him (Matthew 2:2). He submitted to baptism as if He were a sinner, yet the Father’s voice declared Him His beloved Son (Matthew 3:17). He slept in exhaustion, yet stilled the storm with a word (Mark 4:39). He wept at Lazarus’ tomb, yet called the dead man forth (John 11:43–44). Now He surrendered to arrest, yet with the words “I am” He drove back His captors. His cross, the ultimate emblem of shame, would become the instrument of victory over sin, death, and Satan (Colossians 2:14–15).
The falling back of the soldiers demonstrates that Jesus was not overpowered but voluntarily submitted. At any moment He could have destroyed them with a word, yet He restrained His power in obedience to the Father’s plan. As He had declared earlier, “No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again.” (John 10:18). The ground itself bore witness that the I AM was in their presence, and the arresting band was helpless apart from His permission.
3. Jesus Willingly Goes with the Arresting Army
“Then He asked them again, ‘Whom are you seeking?’ And they said, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus answered, ‘I have told you that I am He. Therefore, if you seek Me, let these go their way,’ that the saying might be fulfilled which He spoke, ‘Of those whom You gave Me I have lost none.’” (John 18:7–9, NKJV)
After the soldiers had been knocked back by His declaration of deity, Jesus again asked, “Whom are you seeking?” This was not because He needed information, but because He wanted to calm the situation and prevent panic. A panicked mob of armed men could have easily lashed out and harmed His disciples. By repeating His question, Jesus deliberately refocused their attention upon Himself and away from His followers.
When they answered again, “Jesus of Nazareth,” He reaffirmed, “I have told you that I am He.” Once more, His words carried the divine force of ego eimi—“I am.” This time, however, the soldiers did not fall to the ground. This confirms that the earlier collapse was not caused by some magical incantation, but by a sovereign, momentary display of His divine glory. Jesus had chosen in that moment to demonstrate His authority. Now He chose restraint, yielding Himself to be taken. His submission was not weakness, but the willing surrender of the Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep (John 10:17–18).
Jesus then declared, “If you seek Me, let these go their way.” This was both an act of love and a statement of authority. Having just shown that with two words He could lay His enemies in the dust, He now commanded them to release His disciples. His words were not a plea but a decree: the disciples were not to be harmed. He surrendered Himself to preserve them. This was the same sacrificial love that would reach its climax at Calvary. As one commentator observed, “At your peril injure them.” The Good Shepherd would be struck, but the sheep would be spared (Zechariah 13:7).
In this, Jesus lived out His prayer from the previous chapter. In John 17:12 He said, “While I was with them in the world, I kept them in Your name. Those whom You gave Me I have kept; and none of them is lost except the son of perdition, that the Scripture might be fulfilled.” Now, even in the moment of betrayal, He protected His disciples, ensuring that not one of them would be lost to premature death or arrest. This directly fulfilled His earlier promise in John 6:39: “This is the will of the Father who sent Me, that of all He has given Me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up at the last day.”
This scene shows Christ’s love at multiple levels. He laid down His life for His disciples, ensuring their safety in the garden. He laid down His life for the sheep in every generation, protecting all who belong to Him from ultimate loss. His power in John 18:6 revealed that He could never be taken unless He permitted it; His surrender in John 18:7–9 revealed that He was willing to be taken in order to fulfill the Father’s will. In His words and actions, He demonstrated perfect obedience, sacrificial love, and divine authority.
4. Peter Attacks One Among the Party Arresting Jesus
“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 the sheath. Shall I not drink the cup which My Father has given Me?’ Then the detachment of troops and the captain and the officers of the Jews arrested Jesus and bound Him.” (John 18:10–12, NKJV)
Simon Peter, impetuous and bold, drew a sword to defend Jesus. Luke 22:38 shows that the disciples had at least two swords among them, which was not unusual given the dangers of robbery and violence along the roads. Yet Peter’s act was not one of careful courage but of rash zeal. Earlier that evening he had promised, “Even if I have to die with You, I will not deny You!” (Matthew 26:35). Now, with trembling bravery, he sought to fulfill his word by violence. John is the only Gospel writer who directly names Peter as the offender, underscoring the apostle’s impulsive nature.
Peter struck the high priest’s servant and cut off his right ear. This was not a decisive blow against a soldier but an ill-aimed, reckless strike against a servant, whose name John alone records—Malchus. John’s detail suggests personal knowledge of the high priest’s household (cf. John 18:16). It may also imply that Malchus later became a believer, for Gospel writers often preserved names of those who became known in the Christian community. Some have speculated that the detail of the “right ear” indicates Peter attacked from behind, further emphasizing the rashness rather than the nobility of the act. Peter, with a fisherman’s arm, proved a poor swordsman, and his zeal nearly endangered the whole group.
Jesus immediately rebuked Peter: “Put your sword into the sheath. Shall I not drink the cup which My Father has given Me?” He would not allow violence to hinder the fulfillment of His mission. The “cup” is a biblical image of God’s judgment and wrath poured out against sin (Psalm 75:8; Isaiah 51:17; Jeremiah 25:15). Earlier in Gethsemane, Jesus prayed, “O My Father, if this cup cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done.” (Matthew 26:42). Here He resolved to drink that cup to the full. Peter’s sword, therefore, was not only useless but contrary to the divine plan. Jesus’ surrender was not defeat but obedience. He laid down His life willingly as the Lamb of God.
It is striking that John does not mention what Luke records: Jesus healed Malchus’ ear (Luke 22:51). The Gospel of John, with its emphasis on Christ’s authority, leaves the focus upon Jesus’ willing submission to the Father’s will rather than upon His act of compassion. Yet both details are true and harmonize—Jesus was both the sovereign King and the merciful Savior.
Verse 12 describes the arrest: “Then the detachment of troops and the captain and the officers of the Jews arrested Jesus and bound Him.” The detachment (speira) indicates Roman soldiers, while the captain (chiliarchos) was likely the commander of the Roman garrison in Jerusalem. Alongside them were the temple police, the officers of the Jews. Together they bound the Son of God as if He were a criminal. This, too, fulfilled prophecy, for Psalm 118:27 declares, “Bind the sacrifice with cords to the horns of the altar.” The very hands that had healed the sick, raised the dead, and stilled the sea were tied as though powerless.
Yet Jesus was bound in more ways than one. Spiritually, He was bound by cords of love, for He willingly submitted to the Father’s will out of love for His people. He was also bound by the weight of our sin, taking upon Himself the iniquity of us all (Isaiah 53:6). No ropes could have held Him had He not chosen to be held. As He Himself had declared earlier, “I lay down My life that I may take it again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself.” (John 10:17–18).
B. Jesus’ Trial Before Annas; Peter’s Denial
1. Jesus Is Led Away to Annas
“And they led Him away to Annas first, for he was the father-in-law of Caiaphas who was high priest that year. Now it was Caiaphas who advised the Jews that it was expedient that one man should die for the people.” (John 18:13–14, NKJV)
The arresting party first brought Jesus to Annas, though he was not the official high priest at that time. Annas had served as high priest from A.D. 6 to 15 until he was deposed by the Romans, but he remained the most influential figure in the priestly hierarchy. His family controlled the high priesthood: four of his sons later became high priests, and his son-in-law Caiaphas held the position at this time. Thus, Annas was the power behind the throne. The Jewish historian Josephus and rabbinic writings portray Annas and his household as wealthy, corrupt, and ruthless. The Talmud even declared, “Woe to the house of Annas! Woe to their serpent’s hiss! They are High Priests; their sons are keepers of the treasury; their sons-in-law are guardians of the Temple; and their servants beat the people with staves.” Annas embodied the entrenched corruption of the temple system, which Jesus had already condemned by cleansing the temple (John 2:13–16).
Jesus was therefore brought before Annas first because he remained the real authority in Jerusalem, even more feared than Caiaphas. As Spurgeon noted, Annas was the “premier in the ministry of persecutors,” malicious and unscrupulous, and thus the natural first examiner of Jesus.
John reminds us of Caiaphas’ earlier statement in John 11:49–52: “It is expedient for us that one man should die for the people, and not that the whole nation should perish.” Caiaphas had spoken with political cynicism, thinking to preserve Israel’s status with Rome by eliminating Jesus. Yet in God’s sovereignty, his words became an unknowing prophecy: Jesus would indeed die for the people, not only for Israel but for the world (John 11:51–52). Caiaphas reasoned logically—that the good of the many outweighs the good of one—but immorally, for he advocated murdering an innocent man. John includes this reminder to show that Jesus’ trial was not truly a trial at all. The verdict had already been decided. Caiaphas and the leaders had determined Jesus must die, and now they only sought a legal pretense to carry it out.
2. Peter and John Follow Jesus to the House of the High Priest
“And Simon Peter followed Jesus, and so did another disciple. Now that disciple was known to the high priest, and went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest. But Peter stood at the door outside. Then the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out and spoke to her who kept the door, and brought Peter in.” (John 18:15–16, NKJV)
Despite his failure in Gethsemane, Simon Peter followed Jesus. Having acted rashly with the sword, he now sought another opportunity to prove his loyalty. Though the other disciples fled, Peter and another disciple followed Jesus to the high priest’s residence. Most scholars identify the unnamed disciple as John, the author of this Gospel. John’s family appears to have had connections with the high priestly household, perhaps through business dealings in the fish trade or through family ties. This explains how he had access into the courtyard of the high priest.
Peter, however, was left outside at the gate until John intervened. John spoke to the maidservant who kept the door and secured Peter’s entrance. This small detail demonstrates John’s personal knowledge of the scene and his familiarity with the high priest’s household. It also highlights God’s providence: Peter’s entry would lead to his threefold denial, fulfilling Jesus’ prophecy.
At this point, Peter’s courage was mixed with fear. He followed Jesus but at a distance, torn between love for his Master and self-preservation. He was close enough to watch but not close enough to stand openly with Christ. This tension sets the stage for his coming denial.
3. Peter Denies His Relationship to Jesus the First Time
“Then the servant girl who kept the door said to Peter, ‘You are not also one of this Man’s disciples, are you?’ He said, ‘I am not.’ Now the servants and officers who had made a fire of coals stood there, for it was cold, and they warmed themselves. And Peter stood with them and warmed himself.” (John 18:17–18, NKJV)
The first challenge to Peter’s loyalty came not from soldiers, priests, or officials, but from a simple servant girl who kept the door. She casually asked, “You are not also one of this Man’s disciples, are you?” The form of the question expected a negative answer, almost as though she assumed Peter would deny it. This was a small, seemingly harmless test, yet it revealed the weakness of Peter’s resolve. Great temptations are sometimes resisted, but small ones expose hidden fears.
The word also indicates that John, the “other disciple” who had already entered, was known to her as a disciple of Jesus. Her question implied, “Not another one, surely?” She referred to Jesus with contempt as “this Man’s” disciple—the Greek carries the sense of disdain, almost like saying, “this fellow’s” or “this person’s.” Even the language carried scorn, and Peter was put on the spot.
Peter replied bluntly: “I am not.” With two words he denied his Lord. It was not a carefully considered rejection but a rash, shame-driven denial. Yet it was enough. Jesus had foretold this moment in John 13:38: “Most assuredly, I say to you, the rooster shall not crow till you have denied Me three times.” Peter had boldly protested that he would die with Christ rather than deny Him (Matthew 26:35). Now, at the first probing of a servant girl, he faltered. What he could not be forced into by soldiers, he stumbled into by fear of scorn. As one commentator observed, “A silly wench is too hard for this stout stickler.”
Afterward, Peter joined the servants and officers who had built a fire of coals, for it was a cold spring night. John emphasizes the detail of the fire of coals, perhaps because Peter’s denials unfolded around it and because later, in John 21:9, another fire of coals would become the setting where the risen Christ restored him. At this first fire, Peter denied his Lord; at the second, he confessed his love.
Peter stood with them and warmed himself, blending in with the crowd to avoid notice. He sought physical warmth but endangered his spiritual fidelity. The phrase “stood with them” shows his attempt to find safety in compromise. Instead of identifying with Jesus, he identified with His enemies. Though John uses the verb “stood,” Luke and Matthew describe him as sitting, reminding us that “stood” in Greek can simply mean “remained” or “was present.” The point is not his posture but his compromise: he was present with the wrong company, warming himself by the fire of those who opposed his Lord.
This first denial was a small crack in Peter’s loyalty, but it revealed how quickly courage can give way to fear when one seeks safety in the company of the world.
4. Annas Interrogates Jesus
“The high priest then asked Jesus about His disciples and His doctrine. Jesus answered him, ‘I spoke openly to the world. I always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where the Jews always meet, and in secret I have said nothing. Why do you ask Me? Ask those who have heard Me what I said to them. Indeed they know what I said.’” (John 18:19–21, NKJV)
Annas, though not the official high priest, still held power as the patriarch of the priestly family. He began questioning Jesus about His disciples and His doctrine. The concern about His disciples likely reflected both suspicion and fear—suspicion of any movement that might stir unrest and fear of losing influence. He may have hoped Jesus would incriminate His followers by naming them. Then, by asking about His teaching, Annas sought grounds for a charge that could be used against Him. Essentially, Annas was pressing Jesus to confess guilt and expose His companions: “Tell us what You have taught, and who stands with You.”
Yet Jesus, in His answer, mentioned nothing of His disciples. He shielded them, protecting them even as He was being interrogated. Earlier, He had already prayed, “Of those whom You gave Me I have lost none” (John 18:9). His silence regarding His followers was another way of keeping that promise. Spurgeon remarked that although Annas’ name meant “merciful,” he proved to be the very opposite, beginning the work of ensnaring Christ.
Jesus replied with dignified boldness: “I spoke openly to the world. I always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where the Jews always meet, and in secret I have said nothing.” Unlike false teachers who operated in secret, Christ’s message was proclaimed in the open. He had taught in synagogues throughout Galilee and in the courts of the temple at Jerusalem. Anyone could testify to His words. He had no hidden doctrine to be exposed under interrogation, no private agenda that contradicted His public message. His life and teaching were transparent. As Trapp observed, “Truth is bold and barefaced; when heresy hides itself, and loathes the light.”
Then Jesus asked, “Why do you ask Me? Ask those who have heard Me what I said to them. Indeed they know what I said.” This was not defiance but an assertion of legal right under Jewish law. According to the law of the Sanhedrin, an accused person could not be compelled to testify against himself. Witnesses had to be called, beginning with those in defense. Only after testimony was established could charges be brought. In reminding Annas of this, Jesus exposed the illegality of the proceedings. His words carried both courage and righteousness. The law was being trampled in their rush to condemn Him.
Clarke notes that the Talmud itself taught that criminal trials could neither begin nor end at night, and that convictions could not be rendered on the eve of Sabbaths or festivals. Yet Jesus’ trial violated every safeguard. No proper witnesses were summoned, no defense was allowed, and proceedings began in darkness. From the start, the trial was marked by injustice.
Jesus’ response, therefore, was both a defense of truth and a quiet indictment of His judges. He refused to incriminate Himself or His disciples, instead pointing to the countless people who had heard Him teach in public. His doctrine was already known, and if Annas desired to judge it, he should call the witnesses. In this, Jesus showed that even in humiliation He stood with integrity, the righteous Judge exposing the unrighteousness of His interrogators.
5. The End of Jesus’ Appearance Before Annas
“And when He had said these things, one of the officers who stood by struck Jesus with the palm of his hand, saying, ‘Do You answer the high priest like that?’ Jesus answered him, ‘If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why do you strike Me?’ Then Annas sent Him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.” (John 18:22–24, NKJV)
At this point, the hostility toward Jesus escalated from interrogation to physical violence. “One of the officers who stood by”—an anonymous figure—struck Jesus across the face. This marked the beginning of the physical abuse that would culminate in the cross. Though John does not record his name, Jesus knew it, for as God He knew all things. Yet in an act of grace, the offender remains unnamed, echoing Christ’s own prayer from the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” (Luke 23:34). The anonymity of the officer underscores both the cowardice of the act and the truth that the guilt of striking the Son of God was not limited to one man, but shared by sinful humanity.
The officer “struck Jesus with the palm of his hand,” delivering a sharp slap intended both to wound and to humiliate. In Jewish custom, such a strike was often considered an insult more than an assault, a way of asserting superiority. Yet this was no mere insult—this was the first blow against the sinless Son of God, a foreshadowing of the mockery, scourging, and crucifixion to come. As Alford notes, “This blow was a signal for the indignities which followed.” The servant accused Jesus of disrespect to the high priest, though in reality it was the court that dishonored the law and dishonored God’s true High Priest.
Jesus responded with calm dignity: “If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why do you strike Me?” His reply exposed the lawlessness of their proceedings. If His words were false, witnesses should have been brought forward to testify. If His words were true, there was no cause for striking Him. With this answer, Jesus placed His interrogators on trial. He revealed that they violated their own principles of justice. They struck Him not for guilt but for truth, for His words had exposed their corruption.
Finally, “Annas sent Him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.” Annas, despite his power, could not proceed further. His interrogation had produced nothing that could serve as evidence, and his officer’s strike had only confirmed the injustice of the trial. Therefore, he sent Jesus to Caiaphas, the acting high priest, for a more formal hearing before the Sanhedrin. Yet Jesus was sent bound—as though He were a dangerous criminal. The irony is profound: the only truly free man, the sinless Son of God, was treated like a threat to society. The very One who healed the sick, raised the dead, and forgave sins was bound in ropes by men blind to their own bondage in sin.
This binding fulfilled the imagery of the sacrificial lamb, tied and prepared for slaughter. Psalm 118:27 says, “Bind the sacrifice with cords to the horns of the altar.” Jesus willingly submitted to being bound, not because ropes could hold Him, but because love for the Father and for His people compelled Him to drink the cup of suffering. His bonds were the visible sign of His surrender to the Father’s will and His substitution for sinners.
6. Peter Denies Jesus Twice More
“Now Simon Peter stood and warmed himself. Therefore they said to him, ‘You are not also one of His disciples, are you?’ He denied it and said, ‘I am not!’ One of the servants of the high priest, a relative of him whose ear Peter cut off, said, ‘Did I not see you in the garden with Him?’ Peter then denied again; and immediately a rooster crowed.” (John 18:25–27, NKJV)
Peter remained in the courtyard, standing and warming himself at the fire with the servants and officers. His intention was to blend in, to watch from a distance without being exposed as a disciple of Jesus. Yet by remaining in their company, he made himself vulnerable to further questioning. Luke records a significant detail here: “And the Lord turned and looked at Peter” (Luke 22:61). From where he stood, Peter likely saw Jesus being struck, and perhaps at that very moment their eyes met. That look must have pierced Peter’s heart. The sight of his Master enduring humiliation and abuse would have heightened his fear and confusion, increasing the pressure upon him.
Again he was asked, “You are not also one of His disciples, are you?” The question came in the same negative form as the servant girl’s earlier question (John 18:17). Once more Peter responded, “I am not!” He denied any association with Jesus for the second time. What makes this denial particularly tragic is that John, the “other disciple,” was present in the courtyard and known to be a follower of Jesus. Peter could see that John was not hiding his identity, yet Peter, overwhelmed with fear, still disowned his Lord. His earlier boldness had collapsed into repeated denial.
Then came the third challenge, more direct and personal: “One of the servants of the high priest, a relative of him whose ear Peter cut off, said, ‘Did I not see you in the garden with Him?’” This was no casual question. The man was related to Malchus, whose ear Peter had struck in the garden. This relative would have been particularly observant of the man who assaulted his kin. His words carried an emphatic force: “Did I not see you with my own eyes?” The firelight revealed Peter’s face, and recognition seemed certain.
In desperation, Peter denied again. Matthew tells us that in this third denial, “he began to curse and swear, saying, ‘I do not know the Man!’” (Matthew 26:74). His denials grew in intensity, escalating from a quick “I am not” to oaths and curses meant to convince his accusers. At this point, it was not Peter’s faith that failed—for deep down he still loved Christ—but his courage collapsed under pressure.
Immediately, a rooster crowed. This sound fulfilled Jesus’ prophecy from John 13:38: “Most assuredly, I say to you, the rooster shall not crow till you have denied Me three times.” The crowing was a divine alarm, awakening Peter to the reality of his failure. In that instant, the words of Jesus came flooding back to him, and as Luke adds, “Peter went out and wept bitterly” (Luke 22:62). His pride was shattered, his self-confidence destroyed, but this breaking was necessary for his restoration. Later, at another fire of coals, Jesus would restore Peter by asking three times, “Do you love Me?” (John 21:15–17). The rooster’s crow marked Peter’s fall, but it also became the first step toward his repentance and eventual restoration as a leader of Christ’s church.
C. Jesus Is Brought Before Pilate
1. Jesus Is Brought to the Roman Leader
“Then they led Jesus from Caiaphas to the Praetorium, and it was early morning. But they themselves did not go into the Praetorium, lest they should be defiled, but that they might eat the Passover.” (John 18:28, NKJV)
After the proceedings before Annas and Caiaphas, Jesus was led to the Praetorium, the headquarters of Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea. John does not linger on the details of Jesus’ Jewish trial, instead shifting attention to His Roman trial, which would determine His legal sentence under imperial authority. The Synoptic Gospels give fuller accounts of Caiaphas’ interrogation and the Sanhedrin’s decision (Matthew 26:57–68; Luke 22:66). John simply records that after Caiaphas, Jesus was brought before Pilate, highlighting the sovereignty of God in bringing His Son before the Gentile ruler, just as He had foretold (Mark 10:33).
The Praetorium was the governor’s residence and official courtroom in Jerusalem. Scholars debate whether this was located in Herod’s palace or in the Antonia Fortress adjoining the temple. In Roman custom, the praetorium was the headquarters of the military commander, the place of judgment and official administration. Here Pilate, who normally resided in Caesarea, took up residence during the Passover feast to oversee security and maintain order among the massive crowds gathered in Jerusalem.
John then adds an ironic and striking observation: “But they themselves did not go into the Praetorium, lest they should be defiled, but that they might eat the Passover.” According to Jewish ceremonial law, entering the dwelling of a Gentile could bring ritual uncleanness (cf. Acts 10:28). Since they wished to remain ceremonially pure in order to eat the Passover meal, they stayed outside. The irony is sharp: they meticulously avoided ritual defilement while at the same time committing the greatest moral defilement in history—the rejection of God’s Messiah and the condemnation of the innocent Son of God. As Jesus had earlier said of them, “Blind guides, who strain out a gnat and swallow a camel!” (Matthew 23:24).
This detail also raises the question of chronology. John’s statement, “that they might eat the Passover,” seems to suggest that the Passover meal was still to come, and that Jesus was crucified on the day of Passover itself. The Synoptics, however, portray the Last Supper as a Passover meal (Matthew 26:18–20; Mark 14:12–16; Luke 22:15). The best solution is to recognize that Passover terminology could refer not only to the main Passover meal but also to the entire seven-day Feast of Unleavened Bread. Thus, when John says they wanted to eat the Passover, he may be referring to the ongoing meals of the feast rather than the main meal itself. Another possibility, noted by commentators, is that the immense number of lambs slaughtered required some to be sacrificed on different days. Josephus records that hundreds of thousands of lambs were slain in Jerusalem during Passover, making it possible that sacrifices extended over two evenings.
Regardless of the exact chronology, John’s emphasis is theological rather than merely historical. He shows that Jesus, the true Lamb of God, was delivered over to death at the very time when the Passover lambs were being slain. The hypocrisy of the religious leaders, who sought to avoid ceremonial impurity while delivering the sinless Lamb to slaughter, underscores the blindness of man’s religion apart from God’s grace. They thought themselves clean for the feast while their hands were stained with innocent blood.
2. The Religious Leaders Explain the Matter to Pilate
“Pilate then went out to them and said, ‘What accusation do you bring against this Man?’ They answered and said to him, ‘If He were not an evildoer, we would not have delivered Him up to you.’ Then Pilate said to them, ‘You take Him and judge Him according to your law.’ Therefore the Jews said to him, ‘It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death,’ that the saying of Jesus might be fulfilled which He spoke, signifying by what death He would die.” (John 18:29–32, NKJV)
When Jesus was brought before Pilate, the Roman governor, the proceedings shifted from the religious courts of Israel to the civil authority of Rome. Pilate then went out to them, for the Jewish leaders would not enter the Praetorium to avoid ceremonial defilement (John 18:28). Pilate was known in history as a harsh and cruel ruler, described by the Jewish philosopher Philo as guilty of corruption, greed, brutality, and countless executions without trial. He was not a noble statesman but a weak, ruthless man, sustained in his position largely by his marriage connection to Caesar Augustus’ family. The Jewish leaders expected his cooperation and likely assumed he would rubber-stamp their demand for execution.
Pilate, however, opened with a proper Roman question: “What accusation do you bring against this Man?” Instead of providing clear charges, they evaded: “If He were not an evildoer, we would not have delivered Him up to you.” Their answer revealed both arrogance and presumption. They expected Pilate to act merely as the executor of their sentence, not as a true judge. They had already condemned Jesus in their council and wanted Pilate to carry out the sentence without examination. Clarke rightly observed that they did not wish Pilate to be a judge, but only the executioner of their predetermined verdict.
Pilate pushed back: “You take Him and judge Him according to your law.” This was not a serious dismissal of the case, but rather a probing response. If their accusations were strictly religious, they should deal with the matter themselves. John does not record it here, but Luke tells us that the leaders eventually specified their accusations: “We found this fellow perverting the nation, and forbidding to pay taxes to Caesar, saying that He Himself is Christ, a King.” (Luke 23:2). They deliberately twisted Jesus’ teaching into political charges designed to gain Roman attention.
The Jewish leaders then admitted their true intent: “It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death.” Since Judea had become a Roman province, the Jews had lost the right to carry out capital punishment, except in rare cases such as mob stoning (Acts 7:54–60). They wanted Jesus executed, and only Rome could authorize that. More than that, they wanted Him crucified. This served two purposes: first, to disgrace Him by making His death appear as the cursed death of a criminal (Deuteronomy 21:22–23), and second, to ensure Rome bore the responsibility for His execution.
John then notes the deeper fulfillment: “that the saying of Jesus might be fulfilled which He spoke, signifying by what death He would die.” Jesus had repeatedly foretold that He would be “lifted up” (John 3:14; John 12:32–33), referring to crucifixion. Had the Jewish council executed Him by their own law, He would have been stoned. Instead, by Roman crucifixion, the prophecy of His manner of death was fulfilled exactly. In this way, God’s sovereign plan overruled the malice of both Jewish leaders and Roman rulers. What they intended for evil, God ordained for redemption.
3. Pilate Questions, Jesus Clarifies
“Then Pilate entered the Praetorium again, called Jesus, and said to Him, ‘Are You the King of the Jews?’ Jesus answered him, ‘Are you speaking for yourself about this, or did others tell you this concerning Me?’ Pilate answered, ‘Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests have delivered You to me. What have You done?’” (John 18:33–35, NKJV)
After the initial exchange outside with the Jewish leaders, Pilate entered the Praetorium again to question Jesus directly. John condenses the sequence of events here, whereas Luke records that at one point Pilate sent Jesus to Herod Antipas (Luke 23:8–12). Herod, however, mocked Him and returned Him to Pilate. John focuses instead on the theological weight of the Roman trial and Pilate’s personal interaction with Jesus.
Pilate’s first question was straightforward: “Are You the King of the Jews?” This was the essential political charge brought against Jesus. The Jewish leaders had twisted His claims to make Him appear as a rival to Caesar, accusing Him of sedition. Pilate had seen many would-be revolutionaries, men who claimed kingship and tried to rally followers. Josephus records how after Herod the Great’s death, rebels rose up in anarchy, some proclaiming themselves kings. These men were typically violent, desperate, and quickly crushed by Rome. Pilate expected to see another such figure. Yet Jesus’ calm bearing, dignity, and quiet authority struck him as utterly unlike the wild-eyed revolutionaries he had known. Pilate was puzzled—this man did not look or act like a political threat.
Jesus responded with a probing counter-question: “Are you speaking for yourself about this, or did others tell you this concerning Me?” His words forced Pilate to consider the source of his inquiry. Was Pilate sincerely asking from a Roman political standpoint, wondering if Jesus posed a threat to Caesar’s rule? Or was he merely repeating the accusations of the Jewish leaders, who charged Him with being the Messianic King of Israel? The difference mattered. If Pilate meant “Are You a political king plotting rebellion against Rome?” the answer was “No.” If Pilate meant “Are You the promised Messiah, the King of Israel?” the answer was “Yes.” By this question, Jesus exposed the ambiguity of Pilate’s inquiry and the hypocrisy of His accusers.
Pilate replied with frustration: “Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests have delivered You to me. What have You done?” Pilate distanced himself from Jewish religious expectations. He had no personal stake in Israel’s messianic hopes. To him, the only relevant question was whether Jesus had committed any crime against Roman law. Since the Jewish leaders insisted on His death, Pilate assumed He must have done something wrong. Yet he could not identify what that was.
If Pilate had pressed his last question—“What have You done?”—and listened with humility, he might have received the greatest testimony ever given. Jesus could have answered: “I have never sinned, nor done wrong against God or man. I have healed the sick, given sight to the blind, calmed storms, cast out demons, fed multitudes, and raised the dead. I have spoken the truth with authority and confronted corruption without fear. I have poured My life into disciples who will turn the world upside down. I have not come to be served, but to serve, and to give My life a ransom for many.” Instead, Pilate asked without sincerity, and thus missed the answer that could have led to his salvation. As Maclaren observed, it was a strange thing for the judge to ask the prisoner, “What have You done?” Yet it would have been well for Pilate had he held fast to that question and weighed the evidence with justice.
4. Jesus Explains His Kingdom to Pilate
“Jesus answered, ‘My kingdom is not of this world. If My kingdom were of this world, My servants would fight, so that I should not be delivered to the Jews; but now My kingdom is not from here.’” (John 18:36, NKJV)
Jesus gave Pilate a clear yet profound answer: “My kingdom is not of this world.” With these words He affirmed that He indeed was a King, for He could rightly speak of “My kingdom.” Yet He carefully distinguished His reign from the political dominions of earth. His kingdom does not arise from human power, armies, or political institutions. Its origin is heavenly, not earthly. Its nature is spiritual, not carnal.
He continued, “If My kingdom were of this world, My servants would fight, so that I should not be delivered to the Jews.” Unlike earthly kingdoms, established and maintained through force, Christ’s kingdom does not depend on the sword. If His rule had been a political revolt against Rome, His disciples would have risen to arms. Peter had already swung a sword in the garden, but Jesus rebuked him, commanding, “Put your sword into the sheath. Shall I not drink the cup which My Father has given Me?” (John 18:11). The very fact that Jesus stood undefended before Pilate proved that His kingdom was of a different order altogether.
Jesus closed with: “But now My kingdom is not from here.” Pilate may have felt relieved. Hearing that Jesus’ kingdom was “not from here” may have led him to conclude that Rome had nothing to fear from this prisoner. In Pilate’s mind, kingdoms were measured by troops, swords, and wealth. But Jesus’ words carried far deeper meaning. His kingdom, though not from this world, has power greater than Rome’s. Earthly empires rise and fall, but His kingdom is everlasting, as prophesied in Daniel 7:14: “His dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and His kingdom the one which shall not be destroyed.” Rome would crumble into ruins, but Christ’s reign continues to advance through the gospel until He returns to establish His visible rule.
The early church father Augustine contrasted the kingdoms of this world with the kingdom of Christ. Earthly kingdoms are built on pride, domination, and self-interest—qualities embodied by Pilate and the empire he served. The kingdom of Christ is founded upon love, humility, sacrifice, and righteousness—qualities displayed supremely at the cross. To the Jews, such a kingdom was a stumbling block, for they expected a Messiah who would overthrow Rome with military might. To the Gentiles, such a kingdom seemed foolish, for power was measured by conquest, not by a crucified Savior (1 Corinthians 1:23). Yet in the foolishness of the cross lay the wisdom of God and the triumph of His kingdom.
By saying His kingdom is “not from here,” Jesus implied that He had come into this world from another realm, bearing truth from above. His followers do not fight with worldly weapons, for the expansion of His kingdom comes through the Word of God, the power of the Spirit, and the transformation of hearts. If Pilate truly sought to know what kind of King Jesus was, he would have given Him earnest attention. But as we will see, Pilate was more concerned with political convenience than eternal truth.
5. Jesus and Pilate Discuss Truth
“Pilate therefore said to Him, ‘Are You a king then?’ Jesus answered, ‘You say rightly that I am a king. For this cause I was born, and for this cause I have come into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.’ Pilate said to Him, ‘What is truth?’ And when he had said this, he went out again to the Jews, and said to them, ‘I find no fault in Him at all.’” (John 18:37–38, NKJV)
Pilate pressed the issue further: “Are You a king then?” This was the matter that most concerned Rome. Religious disputes among the Jews meant little to him, but the claim of kingship touched the authority of Caesar. If Jesus were a political rival, Pilate had reason to be alarmed. Yet his tone was dripping with sarcasm. The Greek structure places emphasis on the pronoun: “Are you, in this condition, a king?” To Pilate, the idea was absurd—this bound prisoner, despised by His own people, looked nothing like a king. Spurgeon remarked that it seemed mockery to speak of kingship in connection with Jesus at that moment.
Jesus answered with majestic calm: “You say rightly that I am a king.” He did not deny His kingship, but clarified its nature. His rule was not defined by earthly pomp or military conquest. He was born a King and came into the world to rule—not by force, but by truth. His throne is established on the unshakable reality of God’s Word, and His subjects are those who hear and respond to His voice. As Clarke observed, Christ governs minds and hearts not by coercion, but by truth itself.
Jesus continued: “For this cause I was born, and for this cause I have come into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth.” Here He gave Pilate the “good confession” later recalled by Paul: “Christ Jesus who witnessed the good confession before Pontius Pilate” (1 Timothy 6:13). His purpose in the Incarnation was to testify to truth—to reveal God, to expose sin, and to declare the way of salvation. He is Himself the truth (John 14:6). By saying this, He made clear that He was not only born into the world but also came into the world, indicating His divine pre-existence. He came from heaven into human history with a definite mission: to bear witness to eternal truth.
He added: “Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.” This statement divides humanity. Those who belong to truth—those whom God draws, who humble themselves to receive revelation—recognize the voice of Christ. Those hardened in pride and unbelief, like the religious leaders, do not. The issue before Pilate was not merely political but personal: would he hear the voice of truth?
Pilate, however, dismissed the matter with cynicism: “What is truth?” For Pilate, truth was not a matter of eternal reality but of political expedience. To him, Rome was truth, Caesar was truth, and power was truth. Soldiers and armies dictated reality, not some invisible “kingdom of truth.” His words were not a genuine search for understanding but a curt dismissal. As Bruce observed, Pilate knew his business, and to debate philosophy was not part of it. With this question he ended the inquiry and turned back to the accusers.
Yet Pilate’s question echoes down the ages. Many in our own day ask, “What is truth?” but with a postmodern twist, suggesting truth is relative—“your truth” and “my truth.” They reject the existence of objective, divine truth. But Jesus declared the opposite: truth is absolute, rooted in God’s nature, revealed in Christ, and binding upon all people. To deny truth is to deny Christ Himself.
Pilate then went out to the Jews and announced: “I find no fault in Him at all.” This was more than declaring that Jesus was not guilty of capital crime. Pilate openly admitted that Jesus was entirely innocent. This was the first of several times Pilate would declare His innocence (John 19:4, 6). The tragedy is that Pilate recognized the truth yet lacked the courage to act upon it. Instead of releasing the Innocent One, he chose political expediency over justice, washing his hands but not his conscience.
6. Pilate Tries to Release Jesus, but the Crowd Cries for Barabbas
“But you have a custom that I should release someone to you at the Passover. Do you therefore want me to release to you the King of the Jews?” Then they all cried again, saying, ‘Not this Man, but Barabbas!’ Now Barabbas was a robber.” (John 18:39–40, NKJV)
Pilate, recognizing Jesus’ innocence, sought a way to release Him. He appealed to the Passover custom: “You have a custom that I should release someone to you at the Passover.” Though Scripture does not record the origin of this practice, there is evidence from Jewish historian Josephus and others that Roman governors occasionally released prisoners at festivals as gestures of goodwill. Pilate, troubled in conscience yet weak in will, hoped that this tradition could provide him a convenient escape from the pressure of the Jewish leaders.
He asked, “Do you therefore want me to release to you the King of the Jews?” Pilate framed the question deliberately, almost taunting the religious leaders. He used their title for Jesus—“the King of the Jews”—perhaps expecting that the people would choose their supposed King over a notorious criminal. Like many weak men, Pilate wanted to do the right thing but lacked the courage to stand firmly for justice. He attempted compromise, hoping the crowd would make the decision for him.
But the response was swift and unanimous: “Not this Man, but Barabbas!” Matthew tells us that the chief priests and elders had stirred up the multitudes to demand Barabbas’ release (Matthew 27:20; Mark 15:11). This was not a spontaneous cry of the people’s conscience but the result of manipulation by corrupt leaders. Still, the tragic reality remains: the crowd preferred a violent criminal over the sinless Son of God.
John adds the stark detail: “Now Barabbas was a robber.” Other Gospels expand on this: Barabbas was guilty of insurrection and murder (Mark 15:7; Luke 23:19). The Romans would have considered him a terrorist, while some Jews may have viewed him as a freedom fighter against Rome. The name “Barabbas” means “son of the father,” which provides a sobering contrast: the people rejected the true Son of the Father in heaven and embraced a false, violent “son of the father” instead. This choice foreshadowed the world’s future acceptance of the ultimate counterfeit, the Antichrist, whom Jesus said the world will receive (John 5:43).
The choice of Barabbas over Jesus also mirrors the condition of fallen humanity. People still reject Christ and choose “their Barabbas.” For some, it is the lust of the flesh; for others, drunkenness, greed, self-centered ambition, or the comforts of life. As the Puritan commentator Trapp wrote, “This mad choice is every day made, while men prefer the lusts of their flesh before the lives of their souls.” The choice before Pilate’s crowd is the same choice before every person: will you accept the true King, or reject Him in favor of sin’s bondage?
In the end, the substitution of Barabbas stands as a vivid picture of the gospel. Barabbas, guilty of robbery, insurrection, and murder, walked free while Jesus, the innocent One, went to the cross. The very cross prepared for Barabbas was taken by Jesus. In this sense, Barabbas represents every sinner. We deserved judgment, but Christ took our place. As Paul declared, “For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” (2 Corinthians 5:21).
