“My children, I will be with you only a little longer. You will look for me, and just as I told the Jews, so I tell you now: Where I am going, you cannot come.” (John 13:33)
I imagine the disciples’ faces. Sorrow. Disbelief. Fear. Jesus had been everything for them. He was the provider of food, the commander of storms, worker of miracles. He was teacher and friend. He knew their very hearts. How was it possible to live without Him?
Then, in the next breath, Jesus offered hope.
“I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever— the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you. (John 14:16-17)
Did they feel relief? Did they understand at all? I imagine that they did not. What advocate? How can this be a good thing? We want to go with you, Jesus!
But Jesus was not giving them just a consolation prize. What he had promised them was the Holy Spirit — in Greek, parakletos — a word extremely hard to translate into one English meaning. The word’s connotations included: a helper, counselor, encourager, comforter, friend, someone to stand by you. Yes, he was certainly much more than they understood. He would be a teacher, a strengthener, a truth-teller. He would help them remember Jesus’ words; he would help them see into the meanings of the Old Testament. In opposition to the devil, called “the accuser” (Revelation 12:10), they were receiving The Advocate.
Even the word another was something to dwell on. It was from the Greek allos, which meant “another of the same kind.” This advocate would be someone of the same kind as Jesus. The promise was no less than God living, not only beside them, but within them. Unlike Jesus, whose body had skin to contain him, this advocate could be with every believer at all times.
Spurgeon wrote, “Between Christ on earth and his disciples what distance there was! In his condescension he came very near to them; but yet you always perceive a gulf between the wise Master and the foolish disciples.”
The Holy Spirit would annihilate that distance by now dwelling inside them.
And us. How can we, like those struggling disciples, possibly grasp the meaning of this?
We—each of us—is so loved by our God that He would, in spite of our rebellion, reside inside us. As Jesus would later say in verse 18, no one is left an orphan, completely alone. The Spirit is not an impersonal force; He is a person, teaching us true relationship as He and the Father and the Son have always known. The opportunities to talk to God, to listen to God, to be His hands and feet, to know His friendship are now always available. Through the Spirit we can change; He enables us. When we are weak, He even intercedes for us. God has made his home with us (verse 23). This is love the world does not know.
This is love I cannot fully fathom.
There are moments I catch a glimpse of Him, the Advocate inside me. When I uncharacteristically forgive a deep hurt overnight. When the Word takes on a meaning so personal I know it can only be that my eyes have been opened by Him. When despair over my sin drives me to the cross. When sorrow for the lost weighs heavy. When I have a sudden insight into my child’s mind. When I know I must help another. When I stop to listen to the hurting. These moments belong to Him; they are gifts and a sign that I am not my own.
And there are many moments I see Him in you, North Wake. In hands raised during worship. In tears shared during corporate prayer. In pastors who are transparent on the pulpit and youth leaders who brave middle schoolers. I know He dwells in you because you are driven to His Word and hold it dear. Because you deliver meals and feed the hungry and long for the lost to come Home. You are each a temple, and together we are His Church and a vision of the invisible God’s love.
The Holy Spirit inside us. Can you fathom it?
