06. May 2026
Friday of Cantate (observed)
John 13:33-36

In the Holy Name + of Jesus. AMEN.

St. Peter promises Jesus his death. But Jesus has already decided to die for St. Peter.

“Lord, where are You going?” (John 13:36). It is the question of a man who wants to follow. “I will lay down my life for Your sake” (John 13:37). It is the boast of a man who does not yet know himself. And Jesus, who is about to walk a road no one has walked, and no one can walk with Him, looks at St. Peter and says, “Where I am going you cannot follow Me now, but you shall follow Me afterward” (John 13:36).

That is the heart of this hour. Christ went where you could not go. So that you could love as you have been loved. That is the new commandment. That is the new song. That is why we are here tonight.

Beloved, we are a people who love by ledger. We love the ones who love us. We give to the ones who give to us. We keep accounts, and we call them relationships. And when we are at our most religious, we still love by ledger; only the ledger is bigger and the names on it more impressive. We love the Lord because He has been good to us. We love the brother because the brother is lovable. We love the church because the church loves us back. Take that away, and our love runs dry.

And then Jesus says, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another” (John 13:34). And the ledger collapses. As I have loved you. That little word is the heart of the cross. Christ did not love because we were lovable. He did not love because we paid first. He loved us while we were still sinners. He loved us while we were still scattered. He loved us while we were still walking out of the upper room into the night with Judas.

And we could never do that. St. Peter could not. He said he would, and the rooster crowed, and St. Peter wept in the courtyard. We are St. Peter. We promise the love we have not yet received. We boast of our willingness, while the Physician looks at the state of our health. We say we will lay down our lives for Christ, and we cannot lay down our resentment of the brother in the next pew. Our love is small. Our love is conditional. Our love is tired.

This is why we cannot follow Him to the cross. The road is not too rough. The love that walks that road is not in us. We do not have it. We never had it. The cross is the love we cannot manufacture, and we cannot pay for. “Where I am going you cannot follow Me now” (John 13:36). But He went. He went where you could not go.

He went out into the night that Judas had walked into. Down through the streets of Jerusalem. Out the eastern gate. Across the Kidron brook. Up the slope of Olivet, into the garden where the disciples slept while He sweat blood. And from there, with hands tied, back into the city. To Annas. To Caiaphas. To Pilate. To Herod. Back to Pilate. Out the gate again. Up the little hill called the Place of the Skull. Into the wood. Into the dark. Into death.

He went there because the love that the new commandment commands had to come from somewhere. It had to be made. It had to be poured out. It had to bleed.

And there, on that hill, the Father raised up His Son into glory. The cross was the glorification. The work was finished. The love was made. The new commandment had its source. “We know that Christ being raised from the dead will never die again; death no longer has dominion over Him” (Rom. 6:9). The Father raised Him. Past tense. Done. And the love that was made there is now a love that comes to you.

It comes to you in the splash of the font, where the Father claimed you, where the Holy Spirit was poured over your head, where Christ tattooed His own name onto you and called you His own. It comes to you in the absolution, where the pastor’s voice is Christ’s voice, and the sins are gone. It comes to you in a moment, at this altar, where Christ lays Himself upon your tongue. His body for you. His blood for you. The love that walked the road you could not walk, given to you so that you can walk, in love.

The new commandment is a finished love. Christ made it on a cross. He gives it to you here in water and word and bread and wine. It is yours. The commandment and the gift are one. Faith and love are baked together like one loaf. Christ holds the one, and you hold the other, and there is no separating them. Christ went where you could not go, so that you could love as you have been loved.

And so when Jesus says “by this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35), He is not setting a test you must pass. He is describing people He has made. This love is the family resemblance. This love is what comes out of you when Christ has gone where you could not go.

You will follow afterward. He said it to St. Peter, and He says it to you tonight. Not “you cannot follow Me.” Afterward. After the cross has done what only the cross can do. After the empty tomb has opened, the road. After the font has marked you. After the altar has fed you. Then you follow.

You follow Him into the love of the brother who is hard to love. You follow Him into the patience that does not run out and the kindness that costs you something. You follow Him into the marriage that needs forgiving and the friendship that needs rebuilding. You follow Him into the pew next to the one who annoys you, into the school halls and the supper tables and the hospital rooms, into the slow work of being family in this place.

And you will follow Him at last all the way home. Where He has gone, you will go.

St. Peter promised his death. Christ delivered His. And the love St. Peter could not yet give, you carry tonight — because Christ went where St. Peter could not go, where you could not go, so that you could love as you have been loved.

Come now to the altar. Hold out your hands. The road is open. He will lay Himself upon your tongue. His body for you. His blood for you. And with Jesus, there is always love. 

In the holy name of Jesus. Amen.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin