Is Jesus Really the Only Way? (Spanish)

The title of this plenary is framed as a question: Is Jesus really the only way? I believe that for many—what we call pluralists—in essence, there is more than one way. There are multiple paths that lead you to God. Others are considered, or consider themselves, a particular kind of inclusivist. What does that mean? It means they think Jesus is not the only way, but the work of Jesus was necessary—crucial—and his work, then, opened the door for people to come to God through multiple religions.

We, as Christians, answer the question: yes, Jesus is the only way. And in that sense, we are exclusivists because we understand truth in a way many do not understand. Truth is always exclusive, no matter the field of knowledge. It can be science; it can be philosophy. What is true—when truth sits down in a chair, think about it—excludes every other possibility. If, as in physics, two objects cannot occupy the same place in space, well, truth and error never sit together. No matter what I’m talking about.

And any other path that is not Jesus leads you to an eternity of pain, of suffering—an eternity you really do not want to reach. And, sadly, that is the brutal truth.

So I would like, with that brief introduction, to read a text from the Gospel of John, chapter 14, verses 1 to 11, so that we can explore—unpack—this idea of whether Jesus is or is not the only way. I want to invite you to read with me John 14:1–11. This is the word of God:

“Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you, for I go to prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to myself, that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way where I am going.”

Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going; how do we know the way?”

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through me. If you had known me, you would have known my Father also; from now on, you know him, and have seen him.”

Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us.”

Jesus said to him, “Have I been so long with you, and yet you have not come to know me, Philip? He who has seen me has seen the Father; how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you i do not speak on my own initiative, but the Father abiding in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; otherwise believe because of the works themselves.”

The words I just read appear as part of a long conversation Christ had hours before his crucifixion, in the upper room, where he withdrew with a group of his disciples. And there he revealed a series of things never revealed before, and he did it in a very particular way. And one of the things he told them in that moment, as we read, was: “Where I am going, you cannot come.”

The words we just read form part of Jesus’ long conversation in the upper room hours before his crucifixion. He had withdrawn there to spend special, intimate time with his disciples and to share some things he had not had the opportunity before—or perhaps better, he did not consider it the right moment before—to share. And he did it now.

In the previous chapter, chapter 13—we were reading chapter 14—Jesus says in verse 33, “Where I am going, you cannot come.” So in response to that announcement, Peter says, “Lord, why can i not follow you right now? I will lay down my life for you.” Peter feels so sure of himself that he says, “I don’t understand why you tell me I can’t follow you. I want you to know—maybe you don’t know this, Lord—but I am willing to give my life for you.”

Put yourself in the disciples’ shoes—in their sandals—in that moment. They are hearing heavy things they do not understand, and they are full of confusion. In fact, some of the things Christ said in that moment, during those hours, were indecipherable. We read them because we know the whole story; we know the end of the story. But they could not understand it until after the resurrection.

So this is part of the conversation in the upper room. And now Jesus says—he was pointing to something we are going to see shortly—but he tells them in verse 4 that we read: “And you know the way where I am going.” Imagine that now. Now, yes—it really is true that they are confused. Because you know the way. You cannot follow me. We don’t know where you are going. I don’t understand.

Jesus says, “No, you know the way where I am going.” Thomas—you know Thomas’ mind, the doubter—verse 5 says, “Lord, we do not know where you are going, how do we know the way?” That’s a logical question from Thomas. It’s consistent. I don’t know where you are going, but you tell me I know the way—I don’t understand.

So the first and second questions came from Peter: “Lord, where are you going?” and “Why can I not follow you?” Chapter 13: “Why can i not follow you right now? I will lay down my life for you.” The third question came from Thomas; we just saw it: “Lord, if we do not know where you are going, how can you say we know the way?”

Listen to the answer, because this is where Jesus is pointing and where he wants to take them:

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through me.”

Jesus was an expert at carrying on a conversation in a way that moved the other person to ask questions so that he could answer exactly what you—or the other person—needed to know. And that is impressive about Jesus.

But in this moment, when Jesus answers the question, it also stands out that Jesus answers in terms of something he is more than something he does. And Jesus had already spoken in similar terms. Listen to some of these phrases:

• “I am the door.”
• “I am the good shepherd.”
• “I am the bread of life.”
• “I am the light of the world.”

This is not how the rest of the rabbis spoke. No, no, no. The rest of the rabbis spoke either about things previous rabbis—famous, known—had said, or about things they understood as their own teaching. But to speak of the essence of what you are—no rabbi, before or after Jesus, has done anything like that. Only Jesus could do that.

Jesus did not say, “I tell you the truth.” No, no. I can tell you the truth today and lie to you tomorrow. But that is not what Jesus does. He says, “I am the truth.” That is the essence.

Jesus did not say, “I show you the way.” No, I show you the way today; tomorrow, I show you another way that makes you lose. No: I am that way.

And Jesus did not say, “I am the giver of life”—though he was—but no: Jesus says, “I am the life.” Nobody spoke that way, neither before Jesus nor after Jesus.

“I am the life.”

These phrases are very well known. In fact, Jesus spoke seven times in a similar way: “I am, I am, I am.” In John 6:35, you read that Jesus said, “I am the bread of life.” And when he said, “I am the bread of life,” he was saying, “I am the only person who can satisfy human hunger.”

Remember: in the wilderness, Moses gave manna, but the next day they were hungry again, and manna had to fall again. But I am not talking about that. I am talking about the fact that the human being has a hunger that is greater—and worse in its consequences—than physical hunger. It is spiritual hunger. “I am the bread of life.”

That is why in Matthew 4:4 Jesus says, “Man shall not live on bread alone.” Well, and on what else? He was referring to eternal life—spiritual life. Without the bread of life, who is Jesus, man dies of spiritual malnutrition and, tragically, spends eternity in condemnation.

Listen to what else Jesus had said before reaching the upper room—before John 14. I just read something from John 6; now John 8:12 and following: “I am the light of the world.” Now that we have the whole New Testament, we can examine better what Jesus meant when he said, “I am the light of the world.” What was he alluding to? The world lies in darkness. Sin is synonymous with darkness; it symbolizes darkness.

And not only that: the world lies in darkness, and the man who does not know Jesus, the darkness of the world has penetrated his interior. And until Jesus comes into your life, or until you allow—until the world allows—Jesus to illuminate your interior, your mind, your heart, you also remain in darkness.

Later: John 10:7 and 9, “I am the door.” How so, Jesus? Yes, “I am the door.” No one enters the Father except through me. In fact, this is so crucial that in that same chapter 10, Jesus says that all those who came before me and tried to enter another way, by another place, by another means, are nothing but thieves and robbers. Wow.

Those are not light words. They are strong, confrontational words. Yes, yes. They are thieves and robbers. They are thieves because they try to steal the truth of God and give the impression that they can be another way, another door of access. And they are robbers because they assault the human mind with a lie disguised as truth so that man will believe it.

Then Jesus, in John 10:11 and 14, says, “I am the good shepherd.” What does Jesus mean by this? It implies many things. The good shepherd is the one who guides you; the good shepherd is the one who feeds you; it is the one who gives you drink; it is the one who cares for your life.

But in the context in which Jesus is speaking, he wanted them to pay attention to an even more crucial aspect. What was it? Something they knew.

The good shepherd of ordinary sheep lays down his life for his sheep. He brings the sheep into the fold, and then he lies down in the doorway by which one enters and exits the fold. And if necessary, he will give his life for his sheep. That is what Jesus was pointing to. In the same way, the good shepherd gives his life for his sheep, I will give my life for you—my sheep—and for others who will come later.

So now, at this crucial climactic moment in Jesus’ life—hours before—imagine you are speaking with God. They were speaking with God, but they did not know it, or at least not as they should have known it. And God tells you—God incarnate—look, I am leaving in a few hours; they are going to kill me; they are going to murder me; they are going to hang me on a piece of wood. I have some things to talk about.

Would you think no one wants to sleep that night, to hear what he has to say?

In that context, with the confusion they were receiving, Jesus tells them: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. If you know me, you know the way. You do not have to know where I am going. But because I am the way, you know the way.”

And why is that important? Perhaps we, as non-Hebrew people—not educated in Hebrew culture—do not understand the importance those three words carried, because the Hebrews lived fascinated with three concepts, and we are going to see them, and we will see if we can unpack them.

One was the concept of the way, the concept of truth, and the concept of life.

Let me show you this from the word itself.

The concept of a way. Listen to Psalm 119:105:

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”

There it is. Psalm 27:11:

“Teach me your way, o Lord.”

If you think for a moment—and forget the Bible for a moment—you and I, as Western people, do not think like that. As christians we have learned the lingo, the language of “the way, the truth, the life,” but this was very typical of Hebrew culture.

And the theme of the way is recurring in the Old Testament. Before Adam fell, Adam had access to God whenever he wanted—twenty-four hours a day, at any moment. But when Adam sinned, he did not merely deviate; he lost the way. And when we come as Adam’s descendants, you know you are born—born lost. You do not know the way that leads to God.

And Adam, after he sinned and after God expelled him from Eden, did not know how to return. He knew where he had been. He probably would have wanted to return to where God was, but he did not know how.

Hence the importance of Jesus coming and being able to say—show—live: “I am the way. I am the way Adam lost. I am the route that must be recovered.”

So when Adam lost the presence of God, again, he knew where he came from; he knew what he had lost. What he did not have was the map to return.

And you and I are born as descendants of Adam, without a map—lost—without knowing how to go to a place where we have never been.

In the process, Satan, who deceives—the ancient serpent—who deceived Adam and Eve, we go to Genesis 3. Do you know what he did now that man is lost, without a map? He came and changed all the signs. Let me use the illustration.

So he began to put up signs for different highways—different paths—to take you to God. And one said: morality to God. The next said: philosophy to God. The next: your best effort to God. The next: your good—or best—intentions to God. Other religions: to God.

The problem was—and is—that none of those highways or paths led to God. But they served to deceive man and keep him lost all the time, thinking he was following a path that would end in God.

So the only thing that can help us when we are lost—or could help us—is that someone who has come from the presence of God can come, take me by the hand, and bring me to God. Because otherwise, if he simply shows me the path Adam once had, I would get lost again.

And part of this is what Christ is trying to illustrate—to teach them. He said in John 3:13, “No one has ascended into heaven, but he who descended from heaven.” I descended from heaven because you do not know how to get there; you do not know how to ascend; you are unable to do it.

Other religions, by those different paths, offer you traditions, prayers, rites, ceremonies, and meditation. Jesus offers you none of that. He does not even offer you a religion. Because do you know what? The difference between a religion and a relationship with Jesus—religion, defined anthropologically, is man’s reaction or man’s pursuit of a god: how he thinks he can reach God.

Jesus does not do that. Jesus offers you a relationship with him.

Other religious systems tell you: if you follow these norms, follow these rules, you can get to God, or you will get to God. Jesus did not come to tell you that. Jesus came and saysto you: “Follow me.”

Let me give you an illustration so you can understand me even better. It’s an illustration; I do not know if it is true, but true or not, I think the point is very clear.

On one occasion, someone who wanted to know what life in the desert was like hired an expert—paid him money—an expert at walking in the desert, to learn something and cross that desert. They are on the way, not there yet. When they reach the edge of the desert, the traveler looks to the left, looks to the right, looks ahead, and sees there is no path. So he asks the guide—the one he paid—and says, “And where is the path we are supposed to walk?”

The guide gets a little upset and says, “Hey, I am the way.”

That is how it is with Jesus. Life is like a desert—it is like a jungle, but let’s think of a desert. If you want to come out alive, you need someone to take you by the hand and lead you. Otherwise, you will perish of hunger and thirst, and you will never even know where you were going. And there will come a moment when you won’t even know where you came from, because your footprints will be erased by the sand the breeze keeps moving.

So Jesus is the way that can guide you through the desert of life.

Second: the second concept important to Hebrew culture: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” So let’s take truth.

Listen to how the psalmist wrote in Psalm 86:11:

“Teach me, o Lord”—look at the beauty of the union now—way and truth—“Teach me, o Lord, your way; I will walk in your truth.”

That is the Hebrew way of thinking. The Hebrew thought: there is a way, but the way is not separated from truth. Your way is truth. Teach me your way, and I will walk in your truth.

All the other ways that promise to take you to God lie to you, deceive you, make you believe something that is not, so you keep wandering in the desert, going in circles.

The problem is that everything began in Eden when Adam fell—but he fell as a result of embracing a lie. I imagine that once he embraced the lie and the consequences were announced, it became clear to Adam: wow. I left, as we say in our country, “the main road for a back trail.” I knew the truth, and I left it and embraced the lie.

But you know what? We—his descendants—since we were never in the truth, we are born believing the lie as truth. We have no way to discern truth from error because we never knew the truth the way Adam did.

So if we have no way to discern it, someone cannot just come and give me a formula for discerning truth. No, no, no. And I believe Christ helps us see why: truth had to come—incarnate—to speak of what it is—what he is—and then, by believing what he taught, we could return to life. And now, having spiritual life, we gain the ability to discern truth from error.

And even then, we still need to put on biblical lenses every day—or not take them off—in order to distinguish truth from error.

Look at it this way. This is a recording room where I am. When we came in, it was completely dark; nothing could be seen. In fact, right now I cannot see anything around me. When the light is turned on in the whole room, suddenly the darkness is completely dispelled—completely. In the same way, when I embrace the truth, truth dispels error. And now what I could not see before, I can see, because truth has shone inside me.

Now, Adam not only lost the way, but also lost the map back, and not only lost the ability to discern truth from error when he fell, but it is also much worse. Adam was left dead in trespasses and sins. A dead man cannot do anything. A dead man not only lacks the capacity to discern; he cannot even walk where he should walk. Not only does he not have a map, but he is dead. He is not even interested in the truth.

And Jesus came and said, “I am the way, I am the truth.” Notice he did not say, “I am a truth.” No, no, no: I am the truth—the definite article—the truth. There is no other. It is me, or there is nothing else.

And he not only came to tell you the truth; he came to embody the truth.

So when Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth,” he eliminated the possibility of any other way and any other truth.

Now, let me give you some implications of Jesus as the truth, because I think this is the problem. I think the problem with us, many times as Christians, is that we embrace Jesus as our savior, and now we have an insurance policy. But we forget that embracing the truth, who is Jesus, implies a commitment to truth in all its forms—in every area of my life.

When you understand the commitment that implies, it becomes practically impossible for you to lie. Notice I said practically, because the problem is, as the psalmist says, all men are liars. And sadly, because I have not yet been rid of a sinful nature, we still struggle many times to discern one thing from another.

But in conscious terms—meaning, when you are aware—now that you embrace Jesus as the truth and understand the implications of a commitment, all the time—you want nothing hidden. You want no secrets. You want nothing that cannot be brought into the light. Why? Because you made a commitment to truth—with enormous implications.

And every time you lie, you are identifying yourself with the kingdom of darkness from which you were taken—darkness that invaded your mind and your heart—, and you cannot continue, you do not want to return to something from which Jesus had to come and die to rescue you.

Now listen to something else about the implications of embracing Jesus as the truth. Truth cannot be defined personally—true for you but not for me. Truth cannot be defined in terms of feelings, as is promoted today. No, no, no. Truth is objective. Truth is transcultural. Truth transcends time. It is eternal. What is true today is true always. And that is Jesus.

Jesus said, “I am the way. I am the truth. I came and embodied it. I lived it. I taught it. I taught it, but I also lived it.” And what you need is to follow me.

But he told them something more: “I am the life.”

You know that when God created Adam and Eve, the text tells us that in the middle of the garden—do you remember?—there was a tree. You remember that, obviously. The question is whether you remember the name of the tree. Listen: the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

When Adam fell, he lost life. The tree of life was no longer there for him. It was not there as a symbol of identification; it was not there for him to eat from, so to speak.

Now the second Adam, Christ, had to come to recover life so that you and I, as descendants of Adam, could recover life. He is that tree of life to which you and I must draw near and eat from.

It is striking: in the Garden of Eden, God forbade Adam and Eve to eat from the tree, and what did they do? They ate.

Jesus comes as the representation of the tree of life; he offers himself as the bread of life, and nobody wants to eat.

It is as if the human being cannot be understood. Don’t eat, and they eat. Jesus comes and says, “Hey, I am the life. I am the bread of life. Eat from me. I offer myself,” and people do not want to eat from him.

No, because we want to be the captain of our own destiny. We want to decide which path to follow.

It reminds me of a niece I have—she’s married now, has children, and all—but when she was two or three years old, she was at my house. My grandmother was alive at that time, and she was telling my little niece something, and my three-year-old niece says to her, “You don’t tell me what to do.”

Well, we keep doing that to God, sadly.

So remember: the concept of the way, the concept of the truth, the concept of the life—three concepts, three ideas that fascinated them. And Christ comes and gives them all three together and identifies himself with them:

• I am the way you must follow.
• I am the truth you must believe.
• I am the life you must live.
• I am the life that can bring you out of death.

So Christ did not merely teach something. Christ came and embodied what he was. He was—let me say it this way—the highway they needed. They did not need a map. They needed him.

That is why Christ goes to Matthew sitting at the tax table and says, “Hey, Matthew—come, follow me.” Peter, John—come, follow me.

My question is this: imagine you arrive in China, a country completely unknown to you. You get off a plane, you come out of the airport, and someone meets you and says, “Look, Miguel, here is a map of—I don’t know what city—Shanghai, Beijing, wherever you want. And here is a car. Here is the key. If you want, I can be your driver. Tell me where you want to go; I’ll take you.”

Which would you prefer? Would you prefer the map, or would you prefer that person—born in China, living in China—who offers to drive you and says, “I’ll take you”?

The answer is obvious. You are going to want someone to take you—someone to take you by the hand.

Well, that is what Christ tells the disciples that night in John 14: “I will take you with me. I will take you with me. I will walk with you.”

Christ is trying to communicate something we must understand once and for all: I cannot put my confidence in myself, not only for salvation, but to preserve myself in salvation. Of course not. I get lost again.

Adam was alive; he was right there in front of God himself. He was, so to speak, at the beginning of the way—and he was alive and knew the truth—and he got lost.

I need someone who has come from there, come, take me by the hand, and go with me.

Now think for a moment: what is a way? Imagine this is a way, right? It goes from point A to point B. That is Jesus. Jesus is the way that unites man with God. Jesus is the way that takes man from the world of darkness to the world of light. He is the one who takes man from his condition as a slave to his condition as free. And he is the way that takes a man from his condition as an orphan to his condition as a son.

Truly, he is the way.

And something else: he is the way that takes you from death—point A, to life—point B. That is why he is called the way.

In fact, do you remember in the book of Acts what name was given to the Christian “sect,” as others initially considered them? Do you remember what they were called? They were not called Christians. Eventually, in Antioch, they began to be called Christians, but they were called **the way**.

And people reject that. People want more than one way—more than one option. People even want to build their own highway.

And let me say it this way: in a sense, God says, “Fine. If you want to build your own highway, fine.” The only thing is: if you want to do it, then you pay for the construction of your own highway, and you pay the consequences of what you build, and you will end up in eternal condemnation.

Let me keep turning these ideas over with you.

James Montgomery Boice—a man who died prematurely in the year 2000, preparing to go to the Ligonier Conference, or maybe already on his way—wrote a substantial commentary on John, four volumes. He talks about three paths man has built, or perhaps Satan has offered to man.

He says the first is the way of nature, and it belongs to those who say, “I worship God in nature. I worship God playing golf.” And I do not doubt they worship “a god” in nature or playing golf. The problem is that the god they worship is not the God of the Bible; it is the god of golf. It is the god of self. It is the god of entertainment. It is pure idolatry. And yet they prefer that way.

The next way, says Boice, is the way of morality. And some think that if they live a good life, here is the question: who defines what is good about your life?

Let me put it more plainly—let me be very human here. It is true that if you live a good life, you will get to God. My question is: do you know who defines what is good? Because the one who defines what is good is God.

And God says in Romans 3 that there is no one good; there is no one who does good; there is no one righteous—not even one.

So yes: the one who lives a good life, defined by God, will get to God. But who has lived a good life in those terms? No one.

The only person who has been able to live without sin—righteously—pleasing God for the glory of God, was his own son Jesus.

And when you lean on that “good life” you think you have, do you know what happens? Your good life destroys you.

I have reflected on this idea, and I am not the first. I am sure I borrowed it from someone—and if I did not borrow it, someone said it first. More than one person has said it first.

The only thing worse than being lost without God is being without God and thinking you are not lost—because there is no hope there. The hardest person to convert from unbeliever to believer is the person who thinks he is a believer—the person who thinks he has been found, so to speak.

Then Boice talks about the way of religion as a third way. There are people—I imagine even in our own church—who say, “If I go to church on Sunday, and I go to the prayer meeting on Wednesdays, and I go to certain groups or activities in the church, I think my life proves I have heaven guaranteed.”

The problem is that it is not what guarantees it. You can die very religious and not converted. You can die more religious than the most religious person of all and never have been transformed.

That’s not how it is. It is a relationship. It is a commitment. It is a surrender. It is the death of self so that Christ may live in me.

And remember: Christ was very, very clear. He says, “No one comes to the Father but through me.”

Those words—for the Jew of that time, and for the person in society today—are the most offensive words they could hear: no one comes to the Father except through me.

I am the exclusive door, the exclusive truth, the exclusive life. Either it is through me, or you have no life.

And when you say that, it does not matter if you say it piously. It does not matter if you say it humbly. Let me tell you what you will likely hear at some point, because I myself have heard it more than once:

“So you think you are the only ones who have the truth?”

Let me explain something again about truth. Look: I am convinced that we—true Christians—are in the truth. But let me do the exercise with you. If I am not in the truth, that implies someone is in the truth. Okay? And then that person who is in the truth excludes the rest of us. That is the nature of truth.

Truth is exclusive. We already said it. Christianity is exclusive, not because it is a condemning religion, but simply because it is true.

I can teach you the force of gravity: 9.8 meters per second squared. And you can cross your arms and say, “Why can’t it be 10?” Because it is not true. As simple as that. Truth sits down and displaces every other possibility.

Christ said it plainly: I am the way, and the truth, and the life. There is one way, and it is Christ. There is one truth, and it is what he proclaimed. There is one eternal life, and it is what he provides.

And that night, in the upper room, Christ continued his explanation and said in verse 7, “If you had known me, you would have known my Father also; from now on you know him, and have seen him.”

Know is a key word in the New Testament. Can you believe the word know appears 141 times in the Gospel of John? 141 times. Now, it does not have the same meaning every time.

There are four levels—quickly—of how I can know.

First level: I know something simply as a fact. “Hello, so-and-so, nice to meet you.” I leave, and someone says, “Do you know Don Juan?” And I say, “Yes, but I don’t know him.” In one sense i know him; in another sense i do not.

Level one: I know a datum. Gravity is 9.8 m/s². That does not mean I know much; it just means I know that datum.

Then level two: I understand the information.

With regard to gravity, I am on an airplane; there will be an emergency landing. The pilot says, “Fasten your seatbelts.” But in my rebellion i say, “No, I don’t need that.” So we land; I bounce and die. Everyone else survives strapped in, but I die because I did not obey instructions.

But it’s more than that: I forgot in that moment that gravity has a pull and power—that’s what was going to happen. I would bounce. But because I did not understand the implications of the datum I had at level one, I ended up dying.

And that is what happens to many people who die spiritually: they know a fact, but they do not know the implications.

There is a third level of knowing: it implies I know someone and I follow their steps. Okay. “You know Don Juan?” How do you know him? “Well, I have followed his steps for ten years.” Seriously. Yes. I have followed his steps. I know how he talks; I know how he dresses; I know what he believes; I know how he lives.

And there is still a fourth level of knowing that implies knowing someone so deeply—because you have such a close relationship with him—that you become like him. It is not merely that I know him, that I follow him because I have followed him for ten years; it is that now I imitate him, and I imitate him naturally.

Let me go back to the airplane illustration. I am on the plane; I know the pilot. Then, after, the two of us sit down, and because I have an intimate relationship with the pilot, he begins to explain to me what happened, why it happened, and the importance of the seatbelt. Well, now, I knew the pilot, and I was sitting there, and when I heard his voice, I trusted him. I believed him and followed his instructions. I was sure he was right. And do you know what happens? When we made the emergency landing, I was at peace because I believed in the pilot’s ability.

Well, with Christ, it is far more than that, but the illustration helps.

And that is why Paul, after knowing Christ—after being caught up to the third heaven—says in Philippians 3:10 that he wants to know Christ and the power of his resurrection. Wow. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection.

The disciples had experienced the first three levels of knowing Jesus. They had no peace. They were confused. They were restless. They were unbelieving—until the women came and told them.

And in that context that night, Christ told them, “Do not let your heart be troubled.” Of course—because you are all anxious. It is as if you do not know me; it is as if you do not believe me.

So Peter, the impulsive one, says, “Where are you going, Lord? Wherever you go, I’ll follow you—even if it costs my life.” John 13.

Do you know what? Peter did not know himself. Peter truly believed he was capable of that. No. But he did not know himself.

And perhaps that is your case. Perhaps you think you are capable of more than you actually are, but you do not know yourself.

But in that group of people, there was not only Peter; there was Thomas, the doubter. He says, “How are we going to know the way if we don’t even know where you are going?” Lord, tell us where you are going, and we will believe you. Lie. No lie, Thomas.

I appeared later to ten of you. The women had already seen me, and when they told you, you said you would not believe unless I made a special appearance to you, unless you put your fingers in my scars, in my wounds.

And you know what? Some of us are unbelieving Christians. That is why we live with anxiety, with worry, scheming, creating our own strategies, and planning our own things.

Remember: heaven does not take orders from down here, brother. No, no, no. Connect to heaven—you have to be guided by the divine will.

And if you are like Thomas, you are living at a level of believing, but you need to know much more of that Christ, because the Christian life is designed to be lived by faith and not by sight.

Peter, Thomas—but there was one more there: Philip, the pragmatic one. “Show us the Father, and it is enough for us.” It’s like: Jesus, stop philosophizing; just be practical.

If you say you are in the Father and the Father in you, then show us the Father.

Philip—Have I been with you so long? I have told you that the Father is in me and I am in the Father. You should know by now that there is nothing the Father has that I do not have. There is nothing I have that the Father does not have.

We are not the Father and I, one person we are. No, we are two persons. We are one God, but not one person. But what one has, the other has.

We have the same holiness, the same truthfulness, the same power, the same grace, the same love, the same mercy, the same wisdom, the same capacity to forgive. And you know what? We are of the same essence.

Philip, this is not a contradiction. Listen: we are three persons, but of one essence. That is how it is: one God.

They kept asking one question after another. One question after another.

So Philip asks, and Christ responds: “Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me. And if not, believe the works.” Verse 11, where the text we read today ends. Believe the works.

Everything I have done points to the fact that I am God incarnate: the turning of water into wine, the multiplication of the loaves, my walking on the water, lepers cleansed, the blind saw, the lame walked, the demon-possessed delivered. What more do you need to see? All those miracles point to the fact that God has been with you.

And that day, in that conversation—and then with his death and resurrection—Jesus proved that he truly is the way, the truth, and the life.

I need to use up my time, and I need to close. But listen to one thing.

No one has spoken like Jesus.

Let me give you several examples. Confucius said, “I never said I was holy.” Jesus asked, “Which one of you convicts me of sin?” And the answer, of course, was: no one.

Muhammad said, “If God does not have mercy on me, I have no hope.” Christ said, “He who obeys the Son has eternal life”—he has hope.

Buddha said, “I am someone in search of the truth.” Christ said, “No, no, no. I am not that.” No—I am the truth.

Confucius taught for twenty-two years. Muhammad for twenty-something years. Buddha taught for twenty-five years. Between the three, they taught for about seventy years.

Jesus taught for three years—maybe two and a half.

And no other figure in history has affected civilizations, the world, the way Jesus did. Three years of teaching and two thousand years of impact.

Confucius died divorced. Muhammad had eleven wives and multiple concubines. Buddha abandoned his wife and his son. But Christ asked and said, “Who accuses me of sin?” No one.

Pilate found no fault in him. Pilate’s wife said, “This is a righteous man.” Herod found him innocent. One of the two thieves on the cross recognized that Jesus had done nothing wrong. The centurion at the foot of the cross said, “Truly this was the Son of God.”

And what happened? Friday, he was buried. Sunday, he rose again, fulfilling every prophecy, and in the end, he proved that he truly is the way, the truth, and the life.

No one comes to the Father except through him.