Brother Edward Hovsepian-Mehr, 'A great oak has fallen'

 Brother Edward 1950 – 2026

‘A great oak has fallen’

Perhaps the first impression most people had when they met Brother Edward was his warmth, humour and a voice that always asked how you were with genuine interest.

And then in conversation, there was a quality that marked him out: gentleness. This was not a gentleness that swayed in whatever direction the wind was blowing, this was a strong, purposeful gentleness, anchored in the convictions that Jesus Christ was the Lord and Saviour, the Bible was inspired Scripture, and people should be loved.

These convictions were easily sensed when he preached. There was authority, rooted in Brother Edward’s exceptional knowledge of the Scriptures. He knew the verses, he knew where the verses were, and he knew how to use them to speak to people’s hearts. From the pulpit he seemed very natural, almost as if he was talking spontaneously, but his sermons were in fact very well prepared. He always had written notes with him to develop a well thought through proposition from the Scriptures.

Brother Edward was certainly one of Iran’s church’s greatest preachers; but he was also one of her greatest pastors. He loved people. He gave them time. He gave clear advice. He had a special concern for marriage, mentoring couples through the engagement, the wedding and beyond. Such was his concern for married couples that he wrote one of the first books in Persian on the subject. It is still selling. He also wrote a book about pastoral work. It too is still selling. Brother Edward did not just write out of his own experience. He was an avid reader, probably one of the best read pastors in Iran’s church.

As well as his preaching and pastoral work there was a keen understanding of the church, and church administration. For Brother Edward was a church man to his finger-tips. At the centre of the growth of the Assemblies of God Churches in Iran, Brother Edward learnt all about the role of committees and church meetings. Before he came to the UK it was perhaps Brother Edward, more than any other, who saw that the future of Christianity in Iran lay in the house churches. He saw the day was coming when the government would not allow ‘building’ churches to flourish, and so he shifted the whole focus to the homes. He offered supervision, first in Iran, and then from the UK. The movement has flourished.

When he later came to the UK this same commitment to sound protocol in the church was soon felt, and so it was he who was the main inspiration behind Ham Gaam, a grouping of Diaspora Churches. And later he was a great supporter of Iran’s first world-wide alliance of Christians.

If one had to choose one word to describe Brother Edward’s character, gentleness is a good one. For his ministry, the word should be courage. This was consistent. 

He showed courage during his first pastorate in the north of Iran when the church was threatened; he showed courage when his brother was brutally murdered in 1994 and he took over the leadership of the church; he showed courage when his first wife, Anahita, was tragically taken from him by cancer – he kept on serving. 

 In Iran Brother Edward was constantly threatened by the authorities, but he refused to bow to their pressure to exclude Muslim background believers or to stop evangelism. His preparation for questioning was to pray and fast and enter the interrogation room filled with the Holy Spirit. On one occasion the officer showed that he had a gun. Brother Edward was not fazed. He had the Holy Spirit.

Ministry was busy, very; but Brother Edward was always the family man. Today our hearts grieve with Sister Nazi and all his children and grand-children.

In Africa when a revered and much loved leader dies, people say, ‘A great oak has fallen’

Truly, for all Iran’s church, ‘A great oak has fallen’.

The start of a concert - St Ulrich Church, Vienna on Sunday 10th May, 2026

The student musicians came from the back of the church to just in front of the pews. They came in groups. The strings, the wind, the brass, and, once in position, they started tuning their instruments.

It’s hard not to love the atmosphere created by that mix of seemingly unconnected sounds. Here the lack of melody is pleasing, because it signals the certainty of the music to come. And that was J. S. Bach: the Orchestral Suite No 3, a Brandenburg concerto, the Easter Oratorio.

The tuning had finished, and there was an uneasy quiet. One of the percussionists was not in position. Eyes flitted towards the back. The professor in the pew shrugged. Then he came, hardly a young man, probably still a teenager, awkward in his concert clothes, but no apology on his face. He went to the large concert bass drums, tested them quickly and looked up.

The Bach began.

Down the central aisle of the church there were upright wooden chairs at the end of each pew. Extra seats. On the right hand side, in the second chair from the front was a smartly dressed older lady, sitting upright; behind her, an older gentleman in a suit.

As the first bars of the Orchestral Suite were played, the gentleman gave the lady a gentle, but definite, push on her back. It was celebratory, a raising of a glass.

And it was unexpected. That’s why I noticed it. The Bach flowed and I wondered about that little push on the back.

Were these grand-parents who had come to see a grand-child? Was their grand-son the percussionist who had held everyone up? Was he a difficult character and had it been a family battle getting him to study, and now play in the orchestra? Or the grand-child was another player, and the road to the concert had been hard. So, the little push was a family pat on the back.

Or perhaps they had no grand-children in the orchestra. Perhaps the Bach took them back to one of their own playing days, perhaps this Orchestral Suite was the music that had launched the lady’s career, and the man was giving her a ‘Well done’.

Or maybe their romance had begun at a Bach concert, with this Suite, and and as the music began, so the husband had to touch the one he had loved for so many years. This was their music. It had brought them together. And it had kept them together, and so here they were in the church, listening and remembering.

I will never know¹, but that is what happened at the start of the concert.

1What I do know, if you have read this far, that there is a feast of free music in Vienna in May. For this is when students of Vienna University’s Department of Early Music perform, presumably as a part of their course. The standard is incredibly high. Each venue with its own beauty.

Pilgrimage from the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit to the Basilica of the Holy Family (third leg)

When I first saw the Sagrada Familia I stopped in my tracks; but our children were young. It was not the season for seeing cathedrals. I knew the day would come for savouring this extraordinary building. Back home in Surrey, an idea began to form. Bike to Barcelona – from the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit in Guildford to the Basilica of the Holy Family. A pilgrimage to celebrate how the Holy Spirit leads to Holy Family.

I shared this with a good friend, Donald Hirsch, who said the thousand miles plus was too much to do in one go. He suggested three rides over three years – and he would come with me. Perfect.

In 2024 we cycled from the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit in Guildford to Poitiers, the account of our journey is here.

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2024/07/a-pilgrimage-from-cathedral-of-holy.html

In 2025 we cycled from Poitiers to Toulouse, the account of our journey is here.

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/05/pilgrimage-from-cathedral-of-holy.html

And in 2026, we cycled from Toulouse to the Cathedral of the Holy Family (Sagrada Familia) in Barcelona, the end of our journey.

You can see a map of the entire route here, many thanks to Donald for this...

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1yjfThnCka4mnjsjIk9vf4KrmDOVR2vFO/view?usp=sharing

This is the account of that final stage.

Day One, Friday April 10^th

Toulouse to Alzonne (55 miles)

The evening before we had arrived at Paul Seabright’s home in Toulouse where we had ended our second leg. We were welcomed by Paul and his partner Charlotte, and there was plenty of conversation over a very fine dinner – Paul’s latest book, The Divine Economy¹, his next project, about when politicians should retire. And there was plenty of conversation over breakfast in Paul’s courtyard garden, but it had to come to an end. We had over fifty miles before us. We set off at about 8.30 and soon found the path by the Canal du Midi, which we had used in 2025. After negotiating the Toulouse cycling rush hour, we were speeding along on the flat excellent surface in near perfect weather. An easy start.

And it remained easy. By the afternoon we had left the canal path and were on fairly quiet French roads, or reasonable farm tracks. In the late afternoon we stopped to rest in a park in Bram. Here there was an art centre, with an exhibition all about rugby balls. I was the only visitor, and I learned how the balls are shaped. First a wooden model is made, then the leather is stretched over it. That’s the randomness of a long bike ride.

At our campsite we could see the snow capped Pyrenees in the far distance. We thought they would be our challenge. They weren’t. It would be something else. We were able to eat a good meal at the campsite restaurant, and then, as is usual, Donald beat me at chess.

Day Two, Saturday April 11^th.

Our wedding anniversary. Thirty nine years. I was in France, Mojdeh in the north of Turkey, speaking at a Christian women’s seminar. She was the first to text, and then I managed to call. She was walking on the beach with another lady. We talked briefly, I then sent her a text.

We had got up at six and were ready to set off by seven-thirty. We had breakfast in Carcassonne with its medieval castle perched above the River Aude, and then things were not so easy. There were long hills, and the wind was often in our faces, . By lunchtime I felt drained. 

We stopped in the quiet town of Lezignan-Corbieres and settled into a boulangerie for sandwiches and a rest. We were revived and enjoyed our afternoon ride through the expansive space between the Massif Central to the north, and the Pyrenees, in the south. Our campsite was a few kilometres outside Narbonne, so while I put up the tent, Donald kindly took off again to get our supper. We heated this up in the site microwave; ate; crouched into our tent, and so to sleep. I was exhausted.

Day Three, Sunday April 12^th

Up again at six, and out of the campsite by seven thirty. We then had two hours of magnificent cycling along another canal path. After about half an hour, there was a large lagoon on our left signalling that the Mediterranean wasn’t far away, and beyond the canal on our right, another one. And in the far distance, the Pyrenees. We didn’t see a soul, but in one of the lagoons there was a group of birds standing in the shallows, either egrets or flamingoes. All was at peace.

Our path led to a port, and then a road heading towards the sea; but I needed re-fuelling. So we swung into the town of La Palme and found a small boulangerie that was open. With our bikes parked outside, the camping gear easily visible, and my Brexit Union Jack helmet², both the staff and the few customers were curious.

One old lady stopped by our table and told us she was ninety-one. I asked her if she had had a good life. She paused. Then said that her first husband had been no good; the second, ‘Okay’. I found it interesting that she defined her life by her husbands. It makes sense. And it made sense of this long journey to the Cathedral of the Holy Family. What makes a good life? Our family, or extend that, our close relationships. I talked with Donald about this. He had another angle. His father, the economist Fred Hirsch³, had loved his family, but if had been asked about what makes a ‘good life’, he would have started with his intellectual work. Family though would still have been in the mix.

After this breakfast, we were soon by the Mediterranean; but it wasn’t a smooth blue under a sunny sky. All was grey and windy. The forecast was rain in the evening, and winds of up to fifty miles, starting in the night, and continuing the next day. Donald, being a great planner, already knew about these forecasts and we had decided not to camp in the rain. He also had ideas about dealing with tomorrow’s wind when we were meant to cross the Pyrenees.

When we arrived in St Cyprien Donald headed off to try and book a room in a hotel. I was meant to follow, but fell into conversation with an Irish couple who were having a drink outside a bar. This was an important encounter. Almost randomly they told me that cycling the coastal route round the Pyrenees, known as the ‘Corniche’, would be fine. They sometimes went to Spain and back in a day. I knew that Donald had ruled this route out for the sensible reasons that being scenic there would be a lot of traffic, there was no promise of a safe cycle lane, and there were a lot of hills to climb.

When I got to the hotel, it was fully booked, but the receptionist allowed us to sit in the lobby and Donald expertly negotiated with booking.com. We soon had an apartment and as we arrived, the rain started. I mentioned my conversation with the Irish couple, but Donald was not overly impressed. All his research – and he had spent a lot of time on this – showed that this coastal route would not just be harder physically, but possibly dangerous. His route was to go about ten miles inland and climb over one of the first foothills. The problem was the wind. Coming down a steep hill with fifty mile winds coming in any direction would not be wise. Donald did not want to abandon this route; his preference was to ride just five or six miles the next day, and book into a hotel, wait for the wind to subside, and so get going on Tuesday. We would have to put in a some extra miles in Spain, but it should be fine.

Day Four, Monday April 13^th

We woke up to the news that there was no guarantee that the fifty mile winds were going to ease off tomorrow. That would mean two days of hanging around this side of the Pyrenees. The conversation about the coastal route with the Irish couple came more into focus. I decided to broach the subject again over our coffee and croissant after our five mile ride to Argeles. Thankfully as I began, the wind was not particularly ferocious. So I suggested we try this coastal route and if the traffic and the wind was horrific we would turn back and wait to do Donald’s original route. If our experiment worked, then that would save us having to wait in France and then having to have two days of seventy mile rides in Spain.

Donald listened carefully, but needed to check things out on the internet which was patchy where we were. We found a better cafe and the map was spread out on the table. Donald’s hesitation was that if we started, then we would be adding a lot to our ride if we then had to come back for his route. And now the wind was beginning to pick up a bit. My hunch was to give it a go, and then came the clincher. There was a train line all the way along this coastal route. Donald had it confirmed from both the waiter and the internet that the trains were running. Here was the safety back up. If the coastal route was a nightmare, we could catch a train back.

So, much later than usual, our cycling began. And my appreciation for Donald’s graciousness increased. He had put a lot of work into planning the Pyrenees route, and now it had been discarded.

The Irish couple were correct. The road was safe, indeed there were good cycle paths all the time. And, not surprisingly given the weather, it wasn’t very busy. But the howling wind was something. I don’t think I have ever cycled in such conditions. Sometimes it was so strong that it almost lifted you up a hill; and then you turned a sharp corner and it attacked you. The only option was to get off the bike and walk; and sometimes just to stand still till that particular gust eased. However we were never in danger. The route worked. And on more than one occasion Donald told me how he appreciated my pushing for this coastal route, rather than waiting one or two days in France.

The scenery was very dramatic. Sheer cliffs, the sea, the winding road down to a small town in a bay, and then up again. All these towns were very much ‘out of season’. Hardly anyone was in the street. At one where we had a brief rest there was a young Swedish couple and their two small children playing nearby. The husband was a teacher, so he and Donald has an animated conversation about education. I decided to talk to the wife who was looking after the toddlers. I explained about the pilgrimage, and then asked if she was a Christian. She said she was, and that she had been confirmed. However she admitted her faith was faint. She had not read the Gospel of John, so I gave her a copy, and encouraged her to enjoy her faith. I hope this random encounter helped her.

Entering Spain was a little depressing. The old checkpoint offices at the top of a hill had been vandalised and were covered in graffiti. But the views of the sea on the descent down were truly magnificent. We had only cycled twenty five miles today, but it had been hard going and we were ready to rest. So we stopped at the first seaside town, Portbou, and had a beer in a dingy bar with a fruit machine and an unfriendly barman. Here Donald presented me with a ‘Certificate of Pedalling Achievement’ for cycling through France. He is well acquainted with my thinking on some subjects. There was a line of exclamation marks, all crossed out. I loathe exclamation marks. The noisy, vulgar, and intrusive louts of the punctuation family. Donald also knows of my disdain for the French Revolution and its vacuous  slogan of ‘Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity’. So he complimented me with : ‘Liberality, Equanimity, and Felicity’. This was kind, thoughtful and humorous.

Again because of the wind, we blanked camping and again got accommodation through booking.com. It all happened very easily.

Day Five, Tuesday April 14^th

We planned to leave around eight thirty, so I was able to have some time for prayer and reading the Bible. My Old Testament reading for the day was Psalm 104. Not surprisingly I was very struck by the mention of wind in verses 3 and 4:

He rides on the wings of the wind

he makes his messengers winds...

Was God riding on the wind that sometimes pushed us, sometimes forced us off our bikes? And what was the message of these winds? These questions were in my mind for most of the day.

It was a long hill out of Portbou. We climbed and climbed.  But then it was time to leave this more difficult road and we disappeared down a small country road. It felt like the time of stress and effort and dealing with the wind and the hills all suddenly finished. There we were on an empty lane, on the flat, with a blue sky above us, hardly a breath of wind, and in the distance, beyond a green wheat field, the snow capped Pyrenees. The view of the mountains from the Spanish side, the south side, is more magnificent. They appear clearer, more in focus.

In the afternoon we started to use a special bike route for the Pyrenees area. It was called the Pryanexus. It was fine when it was sign-posted; but more than once the signs petered out and we were left to work things out from Google or Koomoot. It was a stop and start sort of ride – but no hills, no wind. We were on the plains.

Our campsite was a little eerie. It was a vast out of season holiday park. There were hundreds of static caravans, a huge pool, restaurants, bars, an entertainment stage – and hardly a soul around. Just one watchman who let us in, and one other camper.

By now the wind in Psalm 104 was coming into focus. Wind, of course, is the Holy Spirit. We know that from Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus in John 3, we know it from the Day of Pentecost in Acts 2. God absolutely rides on the wind of the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit is His constant messenger. Our journey started at the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit, it is due to end at the Cathedral (actually Basilica) of the Holy Family. The Holy Spirit brings about Holy Family. But why the ferocious speed, the howling, the gusts that pushed us of our bikes? And why on hills? Why was the wind sometimes with us, sometimes against us. Unpredictable, even wild.

That’s family.

There are times of free-wheeling down hills with the wind on your back; but there are plenty of hills. On this bike ride, most of the time the wind was helping us up those hills. That is a picture that stays with me. Our family, like all families, have climbed some hills: but we were helped. And at times that same wind has stopped me in my tracks. Thank you.

The drama of the wind and the hills as we neared the Sagrada Familia made perfect sense. God is family, God is for family. The good life is nearly always a life of good relationships, often in an actual family, or with a close set of friends. And so the Holy Spirit is there to help us as we faithfully climb the hill of staying together, and sometimes there has to be frightening strength. And then, as happened today, there are no more hills, the wind is gentle and the road is kind. That is also family.

Day Six, Wednesday April 15^th

Apart from a minor drama with Donald’s phone, which was dealt with by a kind work colleague, the morning’s ride was easy going. Some of it was along the coast, some on quiet country lanes or tracks, and a few busy roads. We felt we deserved a proper cooked meal – we had not had one for perhaps two days – so we headed for the plaza in a town called Llagostora in search of a decent looking restaurant. We found ‘The Casino’ which with its vast interior and exceptionally high ceilings was very atmospheric.

The afternoon ride to Sills was also easy, and mainly car free. Our campsite was in the middle of nowhere, and, again was virtually deserted. Reception was shut, but outside sat a young Swedish lady. She had just started a biking expedition in the opposite direction to ours. She was cycling the Euro Velo Route 8 from Barcelona to Montenegro. Well north of two thousand miles. On her own. We talked quite a bit, but still no receptionist, so I went and found a spot and put up our tent. A friendly lady came round later and I went up to give our passport details and pay. She hadn’t been on time because her father had just had an operation in the hospital. 

Knowing we would be miles from any shops we had bought some food earlier which we now ate in a deserted restaurant area which overlooked the campsite. We talked about the journey of faith, and the lost sons in Jesus’ parable. Both were lost to the father. One for the pleasures of life, the other for thinking their moral life meant they were owed something. Which were we?

Day Seven, Thursday April 16^th

It was a cold night. I took the tent down wearing gloves. On the next pitch was the young Swedish lady. I asked her what the poetry was behind her trip, the motivation. She said she wanted to test her mental health, to be alone with nature. I didn’t take this to mean that she had mental issues. She was wanting to test her character. On nature I told her about Psalm 19:1 - The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands’. She said she wasn’t religious, but she listened. I told her my own story of being encouraged to seek God with all my heart, and how her life was precious. When we wheeled our bikes away she wasn’t in her tent, but I left a Gospel of John on her bike. I hope God speaks to her.

Today’s ride was fairly easy, just a few hills, and by mid afternoon we were at our last campsite. Our sixteenth over the three years. It was called ‘Barcelona’, and we were just twenty three miles from the city. We had a long and leisurely dinner in the site restaurant, and then played chess. A pleasant change. I won. Over dinner we reflected that this would probably be the last time we would do such a long ride (this leg was over 300 miles). But we were so grateful that we were able to do this in our late sixties.

From this campsite I had written to the clergy of the Sagrada Familia explaining the pilgrimage to them, and that we had been sent off from Guildford Cathedral with prayer from the Acting Dean. It would be wonderful if we could be met by prayer. I wasn’t expecting a reply, but one came swiftly. A priest would not be able to meet us tomorrow. Given this is one of the busiest Christian sites in the world, that is not so surprising.

The Final Day, Friday April 17^th

We were on our way by seven thirty. Our ride started on a  busy coastal road, but thankfully we were only on it for a couple of kilometres. Then the magic of Google swerved us away from the coast and onto tracks which went between allotments. These tracks then took us round the back of Mataro. The bike paths were good. Going along one there was a young boy, no more than ten, pedalling along, and holding on to his back was a younger girl, probably his sister, on roller skates. A good way to get to school. They will probably talk about this to their grand-children.

After Mataro, Premia de Mar, where my son, Bahram, who lives in Spain, was due to meet us. There had been a bit of a mix up over the name of the cafe, so our rendezvous was a little delayed. It was great to see him. I felt very chuffed that he had taken a day off work to do this. But there was no time to savour the moment. We needed to push on.

The ride into Barcelona was perfect. We were on the flat, right by the sea which was now its proper Mediterranean blue, the sun shining, but not scorching, with the city skyline getting nearer and nearer. And then the Sagrada Famila began to stand out from the other buildings. Over 900 miles of cycling, and now we could see our destination. We entered Barcelona, first through an industrial area, and then the dramatic buildings of the 1992 Olympics. After these, we came to the Diagonal, a wide tree lined avenue that would lead us to the Basilica.

Neither Donald nor Bahram are signed up Christians. They have their own spiritual journeys. But I had told them that when we got there I would like to say a prayer. They were relaxed. When we did get there it was heaving. People everywhere. It was going to be impossible to get to an entrance. No wonder a priest could not meet us. So squeezed by a fence virtually opposite the front entrance I announced we had arrived and said a prayer of thanks, and asked for God’s blessing on our families.

The pilgrimage was over.

The next couple of hours were intense – getting our camping kit packed up and posted to the UK, finding the accommodation I had booked for the family, taking our bikes apart and getting them into their bags for the flight home. And then suddenly Donald was in a taxi heading for the train station to travel to Valencia where his family were coming.

Yes, the original idea was mine; but in a hundred small details, Donald had made it happen. He had chivvied me to do proper practice rides each year before we set off, booked the ferries, the trains with bike spaces, the camp-sites, arranged for us to stay with Paul in Toulouse – and planned and navigated the whole route, from Guildford to Barcelona. A mammoth task. Beyond all these logistics he was an excellent cycling companion and spirited conversationalist. So much to be grateful for.

Epilogue

What is a good life?

For many of us it is a life with a family.

My wife, Mojdeh, and Yasna, my daughter, flew out from England to be with me at the end of my pilgrimage, Bahram had come from Madrid. And so on Saturday we experienced the wonder of the Sagrada Famila as a family. For me it was very emotional. No words can convey how precious family is, or properly describe those times when its beauty is framed for our hearts. And those two hours in the Sagrada Familia, in fact the whole week-end with my family in Barcelona, was such a time.

I had always hoped that I would be able to cycle those 950 miles, I had always hoped that I would enjoy the Sagrada Familia, and I had always hoped that my family would be with me. But I never knew how wonderful it was actually going to be.

Yasna and I spent nearly an hour inching round the outside of the cathedral before our entrance time. The depiction of the Passion on the West side is stark and intense. There is so much pain there. The sleeping disciples in Gethsemane; the traitor’s kiss, Pilate’s cowardice, and in the centre Christ tied to a post for the whipping. Above this, Christ is on the cross – with his mother, family, at its foot. Here is the atonement. God’s love in Christ for every sinner. But above all this pain, there is another cross. It’s empty. And sitting on a beam, almost casually, is the ascended Christ. And behind the empty cross, a descending dove: The Holy Spirit. At the end the story, all is well.

It is not that we left the Holy Spirit to arrive at Holy Family. The Holy Spirit was with us all the way. I remember the storm on our first leg, the black sky, but the white dove flying along side us, the wind on this ride. And here at our destination, behind the cross, the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit in Guildford, the Holy Spirit in Barcelona.

Physically this was a journey from the cathedral of the Holy Spirit to the cathedral of the Holy Family. Poetically that underlines that being filled with the Holy Spirit must result in family, good relationships. But spiritually there is no such journey. The Holy Spirit and the Holy Family are always together.

1For a review of the book in The Church Times see here -https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/articles/2024/30-august/books-arts/book-reviews/book-review-the-divine-economy-how-religions-compete-for-wealth-power-and-people-by-paul-seabright

2This was a birthday present from my brother, so whatever my own feelings about the flag, loyalty asks me to wear it.

3 For more on Fred Hirsch see, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fred_Hirsch_(economist)

‘The Great Awokening': Cultural Progressivism and the church in Britain. Excellent analysis by Martin Charlesworth

Like most Christians, indeed most ordinary people, I have been shocked and saddened by the rise of LGBTism in the UK within official circles. This movement has persuaded politicians, who appear educated and intelligent, to send male rapists to female prisons, give puberty blockers to teenagers, and urge female nurses to get undressed in front of biological men. It has destroyed traditional marriage, forced children to have two men or two women as parents, hijacked the impartiality of the BBC, and split the Church of England. And more.

 What went wrong?

 My answer was rather vague; it was society turning from God. But the government in China has been atheist for years, but they have never torn up traditional marriage and the reality of sex. But there was a time when our prime minister thought that people who were born male were in fact women, and so he said it wasn’t only women who have a cervix. Starmer has changed his position, but his previous statement shows that some sort of intellectual contagion had entered the public psyche.

 Martin Charlesworth’s excellent book has explained for me what this contagion is, though he would never use such a strong word. It is Critical Theory (CT). I confess had no idea what CT was all about, and certainly no idea that it was fuelling LGBTism and other identity campaigns.

 It is primarily for this reason Charlesworth’s book should be highly recommended reading for all Christians in the West – actually for everyone who wants normality – and compulsory reading for church leaders. For it brings into focus the fact that behind seemingly moral causes about race, gender, and sexuality is this quasi-Marxist creed of Critical Theory. It points to a very different story to the Christian one. 

 Charlesworth’s book explains not just what Critical Theory is, a simplistic paradigm that divides people up into two power groups, but also how it has adopted three identity causes, race, gender, and sexuality. These have each been given almost a sacred status because of ‘moral panics’ such as the murder of George Floyd, the sexual aggression of Harvey Weinstein, and the transitioning of the US sporting hero Bruce Jenner to become a woman.

 Before reading the book, I thought that the Black Lives Matter movement was just that, a morally just campaign to ensure coloured people were treated fairly. As Charlesworth explains, much more is going on. Because of Critical Race Theory it is not just about getting equal rights, it is about making sure that the oppressed group – the blacks – are able to completely push back against the whites. Charlesworth also shows how the same paradigm is at work with the pro-Palestinian marches. The Jews are the allies to the white oppressors, so they much be pushed back (to the sea). Likewise I thought that the Me-Too movement was a moral protest about the grim abuse of women by powerful men. It was, and is. Rightly so. But again, because of Critical Theory, much more is going on. The answer to life's many complicated problems is to get rid of the 'patriarchy'. It’s the same with gender ideology. It is not just about gay or trans rights, it is about an oppressed identity pushing back against the oppressive identity. I remember reading about a school chaplain who had been sacked for preaching a sermon supporting traditional marriage. Bernard Randall then had to go on an ‘education’ course about diversity, where the instructor forced all the poor attendees to chant, ‘Smash heteronormality’ This zeal just seemed obnoxious to me; Charlesworth has helped me understand how this sort of chant fits perfectly into what Critical Theory is all about.

Charlesworth outlines other dangers tied up in Critical Theory. One is that there is no tolerance for free speech in the movements they fuel. The oppressor must be pushed aside, their voice not even heard. Even reasoned argument must be silenced, because in the creed of Critical Theory the only voice that has validity is the voice of those who have experienced oppression. The foundation of all these dangers is that Critical Theory is a simplistic deceit, detached from reality. Salvation in the Critical Theory paradise is the demolition of a dominant power - the whites and their allies; the partiarchy, heteronormaity. But, as Charlesworth points out, all societies have to have some sort of hierarchy. The most casual student of history knows this. And literature. 'Animal Farm' is a classic, because it underlined this truth. Get rid of the humans, and the pigs will come. 

 There is a lot more to like about this book. Throughout the tone is respectful. Charlesworth does not use the derogatory word ‘woke’ except in the title. He uses the phrase ‘Cultural Progressivism’. There is no machine gun polemic here, intent on humiliating an enemy. Instead there is a lot of listening. And there are a lot of personal stories that tell us about this listening. We learn about how Charlesworth’s own sister gave up her traditional marriage, and joined a feminist commune in the 1970s; how he invited himself to the home of a homosexual who demanded that a church seminar listen to the gays. They are still friends. He also invited himself for a coffee with a bishop who said the Greek in the New Testament did not condemn stable homosexual relations. Charlesworth and the Bishop sat down to look at the Greek, and the bishop agreed that he had not been faithful to the text. Charlesworth is not only well read on this subject; he has spent time with the people who are engaged in these campaigns.

 Charlesworth is a passionate believer in the local church. This is where, he says, the rubber hits the road. He himself has been the leader of a thriving local church for many years. He knows all about the complications of congregational life. So he has an entire section for church leaders on how to deal with Critical Theory. It is very helpful.

There is an urgent plea for the church speak up much more. As most of us know, while LGBTism has been trying to establish itself as an alternative religion in the UK, most pulpits have been silent. This has allowed confusion to flourish. If you are a church leader reading this review, may I urge you to buy a copy and start planning a fight back against this false Critical Theory gospel. The real Gospel is much richer and kinder. 

You can buy it here on Amazon - https://www.amazon.co.uk/Great-Awokening-Cultural-Progressivism-Britain/dp/1836884125

THE GOSPEL OF JOHN: A short and easy to read commentary

 There are hundreds of superb commentaries and books about the Gospel of John. And many exceptional scholars. Some have given much of their academic lives to studying these extraordinary 21 chapters - Raymond Brown, Richard Baukham, Don Carson, Richard Culpepper, Craig Keener, John Robinson, Ben Witherington and many more. Anyone who has studied or taught the Fourth Gospel, as I have, is indebted to them. 

This is not a work of scholarship. There are hardly any footnotes. Rather, I hope, it will be an easy and enjoyable read, either for the whole journey, or just a particular chapter that interests you. All the links are posted below. 

For some who have never engaged with the Gospel of John, this might whet your appetite. For others, perhaps there will be an insight you have not seen before. For everyone, I hope, this is a decent overview of what must surely be one of the finest pieces of writing this world has ever seen. 

Tom Hawksley, December 2025

1. Introduction

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-introduction.html

2. The Prologue 1: 1 - 18

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-prologue-john-11-18.html

3. John The Baptist 1:19 - 34; 3: 22 - 36; 10: 41 - 42

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-john-baptist-119-34.html

4. The First Disciples 1: 37 - 51

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-first-disciples-1-37.html

 5. The Wedding at Cana 2:1 – 12

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-wedding-at-cana-21-12.html

6. The Temple 2:13 - 25

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-temple-213-25.html

7. Nicodemus 3: 1 - 21

 https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-nicodemus-31-21.html

8. The Woman At The Well 4: 1 - 42

 https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-woman-at-well-41-42.html

9. The Official's Son 4: 43 - 54

 https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-officials-son-4-43-54.html 

10. The Lame Man 5: 1 - 47

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-gospel-of-john-lame-man-5-1-47.html

11. The Feeding Of The Five Thousand 6: 1 - 70

 https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/02/the-gospel-of-john-feeding-five.html

12. Division in Jerusalem 7: 1 - 52

  https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/03/division-in-jerusalem-71-52.html

 13. Hostility in Jerusalem 8: 1 - 58

 https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/03/the-gospel-of-john-hostility-in.html

14. ‘I was blind, now I see’   9: 1 – 41

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/03/the-gospel-of-john-i-was-blind-now-i.html

15. The Good Shepherd 10: 1 – 42

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/03/the-gospel-of-john-good-shepherd-john.html

16. The Resurrection And The Life 11: 1 - 57

  https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/04/the-gospel-of-john-resurrection-and.html

17. The anointing of Jesus; the entry into Jerusalem 12: 1 – 19

 https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/04/the-gospel-of-john-anointing-of-jesus.html

 18. The Greeks and Jesus’ final appeal  12: 20 – 50

 https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/04/the-gospel-of-john-greeks-and-jesus.html

19. The Last Supper 13: 1 - 30

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/04/the-gospel-of-john-he-last-supper-john.html

20. The Farewell Discourses 13: 31 - 16: 39

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/04/the-gospel-of-john-farewell-discourses.html

21. Jesus' Prayer 17: 1 - 26

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/05/the-gospel-of-john-jesus-prayer-17-1-26.html

22. The Arrest and Trial of Jesus Christ 18: 1 - 19: 15

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/06/the-gospel-of-john-arrest-and-trial-of.html

23. The Death and Burial of Jesus Christ 19: 17 - 42

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/12/the-death-and-burial-of-jesus-christ.html

24. The Resurrection 

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/12/the-gospel-of-john-resurrection-john-20.html

25. Do You Love Me? Then Follow Me. 21: 1 - 25

https://sternfieldthoughts.blogspot.com/2025/12/the-gospel-of-john-do-you-love-me-then.html

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Gospel of John: Do You Love Me? Then Follow Me. 21: 1 - 25

 As we come to the last chapter of this magnificent Gospel, the beauty, the poignancy, the simplicity that has so many layers, its sheer genius, all this continues to the very last verse.

 In a way John 21 seems like an extra chapter. For John 20: 30 – 21 is a fitting end: ‘Reader, there is much more to say about Jesus, but this has been written so you may believe.’ That’s a good place to end.

 But then there’s another chapter. It’s easy to see that John 21, like an epilogue, deals with at least two questions that must have arisen in the early church. One, how did the disciple who denied Christ three times end up becoming the church’s leader? And there was a misunderstanding around the death of the author. John answers both these questions.

 However John 21 is very much more than an epilogue. It is a stunning piece of writing, painting pictures in our minds – the disciples at night catching nothing, Jesus silhouetted by the rising sun; Jesus, Peter and the charcoal fire; the breakfast on the beach; the three lead characters walking by the sea. As literary art it is fulsome.

 For content, we could say it is a bridge chapter, between the ministry of Jesus to the ministry of the church. Jesus is on one side of the bridge, and he points Peter and the disciples to cross over to the other side, to the church. Hence the camera remains on Peter, the leader of the early church. Peter decides to go fishing; Peter runs to Jesus; Peter runs to get the fish; and Peter is asked the most important question in the world by Jesus, ‘Do you love me?’ There is then a focus on the most controversial teaching of the early church: the Lordship of Jesus. Seven times in this chapter Jesus is referred to as ‘Lord’, (v. 7, 12, 15, 16, 17, 20, 21), We don’t have such an emphasis in the other chapters. We also have the work of the church, hauling in the large catch of fish. There is the importance of unity in the church, with the detail that the net didn’t break. There is a reference to Holy Communion with breakfast fellowship in the presence of the Lord. Jesus then explains the work of the church leaders – to feed the sheep; and for such leadership there is a price to pay, even martyrdom. At the end we see that different leaders have different callings, Peter’s and that of the Beloved Disciple’s were not the same. And finally, the importance of writing. All of this is pointing to how the church is going to look.

 The chapter has three connecting sections. The miraculous catch of fish followed by breakfast 1 – 14; Jesus and Peter 15 – 19; Jesus and the Beloved Disciple 20 – 23; the last words of the author 24 – 25. For this last chapter we will go verse by verse. And if you read Luke 5: 1 – 11 the first story will become even richer.

  v. 1

 Jesus revealed himself again…Jesus revealed himself in this way. That is how this church chapter starts. It is all about Jesus revealing himself to his disciples. The writer is asking us to see this as the foundation of church life. Not lessons, not buildings, not meetings – but Jesus revealing himself.

 In this way…this is very important. How does Jesus reveal himself? The story will answer that, but we need to remember that the writer has asked us to keep this question in our minds as we read the story.

 We are told where the revelation is going to happen. It is a familiar place for both Jesus and the disciples. The lake of Galilee, which is also called the Sea of Tiberius.

 v. 2

 Here we meet seven disciples. The named ones are the Galileans, and they are some of Jesus’ very first disciples – Peter, Thomas, Nathaniel, - we haven’t met him since Chapter 1 - John and James, the sons of Zebedee; and there are two others. We don’t know where they are from. You will remember that I said in my first lesson that our writer had a rule, never to mention his own name. He is always either the other disciple or the Beloved Disciple. Here we have John Zebedee mentioned which, as said, means it is unlikely he is the author. What is pretty certain is that the Beloved Disciple is one of those two others.

 V. 3

 In the last chapter Jesus had send, ‘As the Father has sent me, so I send you…’ They don’t look like they are going anywhere. They are back home, sitting. Then it gets worse. Peter says, ‘I am going fishing’. He didn’t mean fishing for men, that is what Jesus had told him in Luke 5 – and the writer knows that story, and knows his readers know that story. Peter meant fishing for fish. Peter meant he was going back to his old job. In Luke 5 Jesus said, follow me, and Peter left everything. He left his boat. Now he is going back to that boat.

 We can guess why. Yes, Jesus has been raised from the dead. But, there is no place for me. I denied him three times. I have failed. So we hear the author’s – Jesus revealed himself in this way. In what way? When we have failed.

 The others come with Peter. Just like Mary ran to Peter in the last chapter, because for her he was the leader; so now. Whatever Peter thinks about himself, for the others, he is the leader. So they go with him.

 And that night, we know the word night for this author has meaning. Nicodemus came to him – at night, Jesus told his disciples to walk in the day, because night is coming, and Judas went out and it was night, Jesus’ trial before Anna was - at night.

There is a problem here. Jesus’ closest disciples, are working – in the night. And there is no blessing. They caught nothing. Just like when Jesus called them in Luke 5.

 I am sure as the day was breaking they were all thinking about what had happened in Luke 5. How they were out all night, and caught nothing. And then….and then…that miraculous catch of fish. Could it happen again?

 v. 4 

 Just as day was breaking. Darkness and light…and in the light, there is Jesus standing on the shore. We don’t know how long he had been there for, watching. The disciples do not know it is Jesus, ‘the Lord’. The boat is a distance from the shore. They cannot see clearly. That is important.

 v. 5

 They cannot see, but they can hear Jesus’ voice when he asks, ‘Children, do you have any fish?’ They hear ‘Children’ Who would call them children? The last person who had called them ‘Children’ was Jesus, in Chapter 13, when he said, ‘Little children yet a little while I am with you.’ (13:33).

 It is very gentle, especially when you think how disappointed Jesus must have been. He has called these men to follow him; he taught them for three years, and now, they are fishing on the lake. It is like those three years didn’t happen. However, He is gentle, not angry, and he asks a very perceptive question.

 Do you have any fish? Okay, you are not doing what I asked you to do: how is it going? Do you have any fish? The disciples have a choice. To be honest about their failure, or to protect their reputation.

 Thankfully they are honest. Again we remember what the writer said in v. 1. Jesus revealed himself in this way. He revealed himself when the disciples were honest about their failure.

 v. 6.

 It is just like Luke 5. Jesus gives a command, they obey, and there is a miraculous catch.

 What’s important to note here is that there is nothing visual here. The miracle has not happened because the disciples have seen Jesus. No, the miracle has happened because the disciples hear Jesus, confess to Jesus, and obey Jesus. That is life for Christians in the church. We don’t see Jesus, but we can hear, and confess, and obey.

 V 7

 The Beloved Disciple helps Peter – again. He helped him at the Last Supper – finding out who the traitor was; he brings him into Annas’ courtyard; he runs with him to the empty grave. And now he understands that this is ‘The Lord’. Note, there is nothing about him seeing Jesus. It is an understanding.

 Peter is just like Mary in Chapter 11. Do you remember how she was upset and didn’t go out to greet Jesus? But when Martha came and said, ‘The Teacher is calling you’, she sprang up and ran to Him. Peter is the same. He has gone fishing; but when he hears it is Jesus, he wants to get to him as quickly as possible.

 V 8

 The other disciples, they have work. Pulling in the fish. There are miracles, there is work. We have both in the church.

 V. 9

 We don’t know exactly what happened when Peter met Jesus – because the Beloved Disciple, the writer, was not there. He was with the others dragging the net. When he arrives he tells us that Jesus has been preparing breakfast – some fish and bread, on a charcoal fire.

 A charcoal fire. The easiest fire to make on a beach is a wood fire; but Jesus has made a charcoal fire. On purpose. From the peace of this beach, we go to Annas’ courtyard and Peter, warming himself and denying Christ – by a charcoal fire (18:18).

 Jesus wants to deal with that terrible night. He wants to bring Peter’s failure into the light. Remember v. 1 – Jesus revealed himself – in this way. He reveals himself as we face our worst failures. Now we can imagine what happened when Peter came running up that beach. There is an embrace. There are warm words, but then his eyes went to the fire, and he saw it was a charcoal fire. And he looked again at Jesus. We don’t know what they said to each other. But that wound, that failure, that denial – it came into the light, it came into the open – on that beach. That’s the kindness of Jesus. He did not leave Peter with his inner pain.

 v. 10

 The kindness continues. Jesus already has fish cooking, but he says, go and get some of the fish that ‘you have caught’. They didn’t catch any fish. It was because of Jesus they had fish in their net. They had only pulled the net in. That is grace. And that is the church. It is Jesus who brings in the fish, we just pull them in. We cannot make anyone a Christian.

 V. 11

 Jesus doesn’t say who should go and get the fish – but it is Peter who goes. There is a spring in his step. He is ready to serve Christ again. And he works very hard to bring the fish in.

 We are told there are 153 fish. That has caused a lot of discussion. There are many ideas. One is that in ancient times people though there were 153 types of fish, so this symbolizes how all the different people groups will come into the net of the church. This cannot properly be proved. There are all sorts of mathematical ideas. And one of course is that there were many. As with the wine in chapter 2, the water in chapter 4, the bread in chapter 6, the perfume in chapter 12 – the emphasis is plenty.

 Just as important as the 153 is the other detail. The net was not torn. We remember Jesus’ prayer in John 17 for unity. That is crucial for catching fish.

 v. 12

 Peter has given some of those 153 fish to Jesus, and so he invites them for breakfast. What grace. They have gone fishing, they have caught nothing, He does not rebuke them, he only asks them a question. They are honest, a miracle happens, Peter is restored, and now an invitation to breakfast. In this Gospel Jesus is often a host. He invited Andrew and the other disciple to his home; he gives the wine at the wedding, he gives the bread to the five thousand, he organises the last supper. Meals with Jesus. Remember – it is he who invites the disciples, he is the cook and the host.

 The ‘Who are you?’ question has been sharp all through the Gospel. It was the first question to John the Baptist: who are you? But now the disciples know the answer. It is the Lord. The church does not ask who Jesus is; real Christians know who he is.

 V 13

 Jesus gives the bread and the fish. They have seen this before, in John 6, with the feeding of the five thousand. And after that there was the sermon in Capernaum where Jesus said he was ‘the bread of life’ which we had to eat. The writer is surely wanting us to think of Holy Communion – something which has been a part of the church for two thousand years.

 v. 14.

 The author ends this section where he began. He is stressing the importance of revelation. And how it happens. When we are failures, when we confess, when we listen and obey, then we are ready to go to Holy Communion.

 The next section is about Jesus and Peter. 21: 15 – 19

 We will look at 15 – 17 together.

 Breakfast has finished. Jesus turns to Peter, and says Simon, son of John. We have to stop here. Simon, son of John. The last time we heard this name was in chapter one when Jesus met Peter for the first time. Jesus looked at him and said, ‘You are Simon, son of John. You shall be called Cephas (Peter)’(1:42). And now Jesus uses this name, not the new name he gave him. Why? It is perhaps because this new name, which means rock, is now difficult, given what had happened in Annas’ courtyard. But also because by using this name, Jesus is reminding Peter, that he gave him a new start. Jesus is saying – you can have another new start. I can call you Peter again.

 But first Jesus wants to know something. And he asks him the same question three times ‘Do you love me more than these?’ There is no need to think there is any difference in the two words used for love here, agapas and philo -as they can be used interchangeably.

 As is typical with our writer we are not told what the these are – most likely the fish, perhaps the other disciples. It does not matter. Peter knows, we know, that we are to love Jesus more than any other ‘these’ whatever they are.

 With the charcoal fire probably still burning, we know why Jesus asks this question three times. Three times Peter had denied Jesus near a charcoal fire; now three times he can say he loves him, again, near a charcoal fire. This conversation will deal with those denials. But there is more. Jesus asks three times because he really wants Peter to examine himself. To think carefully. Jesus is not interested in a cliché answer. He wants Peter to really work out where his heart it.

 This is the penultimate question Jesus asks in this Gospel. This is a Gospel full of questions, some say there are nearly 170. Many are asked by Jesus. His first question to Andrew and the other disciple was ‘What do you seek?’, in chapter one, and He asks questions in nearly every other chapter – will you give me a drink? Do you want to get well? Do you want to leave me? Do you believe this? Who do you want? Why are you crying. And just before this conversation, have you any fish?

 And now three times, right at the end – do you love me?

 It’s a question for Peter, it’s a question for all of us. This is what matters. Loving the Jesus we have met in this Gospel. He is not an easy or a predictable man. He is certainly not soppy or sentimental, but he is patient and kind. He is determined to do his Father’s will. He is willing to serve others and suffer. And he is ready to confront his enemies He is not frightened of religious or political rulers. He has time for the unlikely people. He is man you cannot put into a box, not least because he claims to be God. ‘Before Abraham was, I am’. This is the Jesus who asks  – do you love me?

 Peter says, ‘Yes’, he says, ‘You know’, and in the last, ‘You know all things’. Peter is right. Jesus knows our own hearts better than we do. But Jesus wants to hear that we love him – which means we will follow him and do what he wants.

 Jesus wants Peter to look after the sheep, to feed them. That is why this is a bridge chapter. Jesus is going to ascend to his father, so it is Peter who has to look after the church. Twice Jesus says, ‘Feed my sheep’. What does that mean? What is the food for the sheep? We know two things from this Gospel. In John 4 Jesus said that his food was to do the will of the Father. And in John 6 He told us that his body was the bread of life. Peter must feed the sheep by encouraging them to do the will of the Father, and by always pointing them to the broken body and shed blood of Christ – in worship, preaching and of course in Holy Communion.

 Simon the son of John has been called Peter – again. Right there, by another charcoal fire, Jesus is appointing Peter to be the leader of the first church. It is very poignant.

 And there is more.

 v.18.

 Yes, Peter, as we know in Acts, will certainly be the leader of the first church. And he will grow old. Jesus tells him this. But his death will not be pleasant. Peter is going to suffer. He is going to be taken to a place of execution. It is thought this happened in Rome around 64 A.D. during Nero’s persecution. This was before this Gospel was published. Peter’s martyrdom was something the writer knew about.

  v. 19

 We are told that this promise of suffering will bring glory to God. Later in his first letter Peter will constantly make the connection between suffering and glory. (I Peter 1: 3/11; 19/21; 2: 4,7; 21/23; 3. 18; 4:13; 5:1). With that certainty ringing in his ears, Jesus says to Peter, ‘Follow me’.

 Now the camera turns to the Beloved Disciple in 20 – 23

 20

 It seems that Jesus and Peter are walking together along the beach. And – for some reason, we don’t know why – the Beloved Disciple is following them. Whoever he was, the Beloved Disciple was the friend of Peter’s brother (1:40), and had clearly became Peter’s friend. Now, right at the end of the story, they are together on the beach.

v. 21

 Peter turns and sees the Beloved Disciple. He has understood what he has to do. Look after the church, and then bring glory to God through being executed. But, is it going to be the same for his friend, the Beloved Disciple? ‘Lord, what about this man?’

 v. 22

 Jesus refuses to answer the question directly. Instead we have one of the rare references in this Gospel to Jesus’ second coming: the Beloved Disciple might still be alive when Jesus returns. And then, ‘What is that to you? What is it to you Peter about what happens to the Beloved Disciple? He has his journey, you have yours. Don’t interfere.’ And, in case Peter hasn’t understood, we have Jesus’ last words to Peter, to the church, it’s the same command again: ‘Follow me’.

 Let’s put some of these final words of Jesus together.

 Do you love me?

Follow me

What is that to you?

Follow me

 Jesus is asking us not to let anything or anyone distract us from loving him and following him.

 v.23

 We then find out that there was a rumour in the church that the Beloved Disciple was not going to die until Jesus returned. To deal with this we are told again exactly what Jesus had said which was, ‘If it is my will…’ There is no assurance that the Beloved Disciple was not going to die.

 Now our author signs off this magnificent Gospel.

 v. 24 

This is the disciple who is bearing witness to these things. The author is the Beloved Disciple. Like John the Baptist, like Jesus, and like Peter will die for Christ – he too is bearing witness. How? By writing this Gospel. What a witness.

 ‘We know his testimony is true’. There is discussion over the ‘we’. Some suggest that while the Beloved Disciple was the witness, a secretary did the writing, and so the book, and perhaps others, perhaps even the church is saying, ‘We know his testimony is true.’ Perhaps. Or perhaps the Beloved Disciple just used ‘we’ for himself. What’s important is that this Gospel is true. It is reliable. Trust-worthy. Everything we have been reading about happened.

 v. 25

 This is the last verse and it is very beautiful. Again we are told – as we were in 20:30 that the author has made a selection of what Jesus has done. The Gospel is not a tape-recording of all that has happened. No, the events are carefully chosen, and crafted.

 There is so much more the author could have told us. As with the wine in chapter two, as with the water in chapter 4, as with the bread in chapter, as with the fish here in chapter 21, there is abundance. So much so that there is not space enough in the whole world to contain all the books that would have to be written.

 The genius of our author remains right to the end – and beyond. He is saying, ‘Yes, this is a book, but we cannot put Jesus into a book. He is God. Fill the world with books and He will break out of them and call you and me to follow Him.’ But, at the same time, he is saying, the church needs written accounts like this. That too is very true.

 We have been on a journey together through the pages of this wonderful Gospel. The wonderful hero of the Gospel does not stay in Chapter 21. No, he stands at the end of Chapter 21 and ask us whether we love Him ‘more than these’ and then calls us all to follow him.