“What Shall I Do with Jesus?”

I invite you to turn with me to the Gospel of Matthew and to chapter 27, and I will read the first two verses and then from verse 11 through to verse 26.

Matthew 27:1:

“When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people took counsel against Jesus to put him to death. And they bound him and led him away and delivered him over to Pilate the governor.”

Verse 11:

“Now Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, ‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ Jesus said, ‘You[’ve] said so.’ But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he gave no answer. Then Pilate said to him, ‘Do you not hear how many things they testify against you?’ But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.

“Now at the feast the governor was accustomed to release for the crowd any one prisoner whom they wanted. And they had then a notorious prisoner called Barabbas. So when they had gathered, Pilate said to them, ‘Whom do you want me to release for you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?’ For he knew that it was out of envy that they had delivered him up. Besides, while he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, ‘Have nothing to do with that righteous man, for I have suffered much because of him today in a dream.’ Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas and destroy Jesus. The governor again said to them, ‘Which of the two do you want me to release for you?’ And they said, ‘Barabbas.’ Pilate said to them, ‘Then what shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?’ They all said, ‘Let him be crucified!’ And he said, ‘Why? What evil has he done?’ But they shouted all the more, ‘Let him be crucified!’

“So when Pilate saw that he was gaining nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, ‘I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.’ And all the people answered, ‘His blood be on us and on our children!’ Then he released for them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered him [up] to be crucified.”

Amen.

Well, let me invite you to turn again to Matthew chapter 27 with, perhaps, your finger or a marker in John chapter 18 as well. I actually may make more references to John 18 than to Matthew 27, but Matthew 27 contains our question for this morning.

So, with that said, let us just ask God’s help:

Our Father, we thank you that your Word is a lamp to our feet; it’s a light to our path.[1] And so we pray that into the often misty recesses of our own hearts and minds shine your truth, we pray today, and grant that, as we have sung, it may be the voice of Jesus that we hear, far beyond the voice of any mere man. And we ask it in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Well, for those of you who are paying attention, we come this morning to our fourth Easter question. We began a couple of weeks ago now—more than that—with our run-up to Easter by saying, “Let’s consider a number of questions that arise directly out of the Easter story.” And, of course, there are far more than we could ever entertain.

We began with the question by Jesus which he put to the disciples: “Shall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me [to drink]?”[2] We then heard him as he addressed Judas: “Judas, would you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?”[3] We then, last time, in the evening, heard the voice of the servant girl posing a question to Peter: “You also are not one of this man’s disciples, are you?”[4] And this morning, the question, amongst many questions that emerge in the dialogue here between Jesus and Pontius Pilate, is the question that comes in Matthew 27:22: “Pilate said to them”—and I take it in a measure of frustration—“‘Then what shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?’” “What shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?”

In preparing for this address, I was intrigued to discover that this very question was what God used through his servant in order to bring the late John Stott to living faith in Jesus. I’ll return to this later, but for now, we just notice that Stott, when he heard this as an eighteen-year-old young man, he said, “That I needed to do anything with Jesus was an [extremely] novel idea to me.”[5] “That I needed to do something in relationship to Jesus was an extremely novel idea.” And it may well be an extremely novel idea to some who are listening to me now. As I say, we’ll return to it.

There is a warning in every generation for all of us to make sure that our kingly studies and kingly commitment is to a kingdom that is far bigger than even the nation to which we belong.

By our hymnody we’ve acknowledged that today in the church calendar is Palm Sunday, and the events that we have in our Gospel record introduce us to the fact that so many of these events topple in on one another. And so we consider this question in proximity to the Palm Sunday gatherings as well. I want just to say two things about that Palm Sunday event—first of all, that it was a day that was filled with expectation. Justin read for us from, I think, the 118th Psalm earlier, which, of course, was part of what was on the lips of the folks who were in Jerusalem on that day. And it was in light of that that they were waving palm branches, which symbolically conveyed for them and to them the idea of victory over their enemies.

However, when we follow the line through the events of the day and into the hours that follow it, it moves very quickly from acclamation to cries for crucifixion and actually points to the fact that it would seem that many of them, when they were thinking in terms of the kingly rule of the Messiah, were not thinking in terms of the way in which Jesus describes it here in his conversation with Pontius Pilate, but rather, they were thinking in militaristic or in political terms. And there is a warning in every generation for all of us to make sure that our kingly studies and kingly commitment is to a kingdom that is far bigger than even the nation to which we belong and for which we’re thankful.

So, it was a time of expectation, and also, it was an occasion of opposition. John actually records on numerous occasions the response of the Pharisees and the chief priests to what was happening. They, of course, had been annoyed with Jesus, to say the least. They didn’t like the fact that he spoke so boldly to them. And so now they discover that these crowds of people are apparently becoming intrigued by him and beginning to listen to him. And on one occasion they said to one another, “Look, we are gaining nothing. The world has gone after him.”[6] John tells us that the raising of Lazarus had been a real problem for them, because it was undeniable that Lazarus was alive after he had been dead. And John records, “On account of [Lazarus] many of the Jews were going away and believing [on] Jesus.”[7] And so the Pharisees say to one another, “If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe [on] him.”[8] And “so from that day on they made plans to put him to death.”[9] So there’s no dubiety about the context here. There is the acclamation of seeking people—the expectation of a Messiah, however misguided they are in their expectations—and at the very heart of it all is the opposition of the religious authorities, who are significantly displeased with Jesus.

Now, it was early morning when, after the denial of Peter—and I’m quoting here now from John 18. I won’t keep saying this, because it’s tedious for you and difficult for me, because I may get it wrong. So if I say something and you’re looking in Matthew and it’s not there, I’m pretty sure it’s in John 18. And if it isn’t, then you’ll find it later. So I wouldn’t be unduly concerned. But there in John 18 we’re told that “then they led Jesus from the house of Caiaphas to the governor’s headquarters. It was early morning.” “It was early morning.” They got, essentially, Pilate out of his bed.

And Peter had denied Jesus. They had come and seized Jesus. They bound him. And the language is so graphic, isn’t it—that “they bound him,” and they “led him away,” and they “delivered him over”? It’s a horrible picture, really: this Lord Jesus Christ, who has been the one who could say, “I am meek and lowly in heart. You can find rest for your souls. Come to me, especially if you’re heavy laden, if you’re burdened.”[10] And “they bound him,” and they “led him away,” and they “delivered him over”: “Here, take him. Take him.”

Part of the problem, of course, was—and it was a big problem for them—if they were going to go through with their plan, they couldn’t defile themselves. If they defiled themselves, then they would never be able to celebrate the Passover, and they desperately wanted to make sure that they could celebrate the Passover, which is understandable. And so—John 18—“they themselves did not enter the governor’s headquarters, so that they would not be defiled, but could eat the Passover.” “That they would[n’t] be defiled”? They’re already defiled! The Gospel record says that they were already going around the company seeking false testimony to use in accusing Jesus[11]—that it wasn’t just an individual, but it was a group of them who joined in their forceful negation of the beauty of Jesus. Matthew 26, actually: “They spit in his face,” and they “struck him. And some slapped him, saying, ‘Prophesy to us, you Christ! Who is it that struck you?’”[12]

No, they hated him. All they were doing, actually, in this instance, was bearing testimony to what Jesus had said about them in his great series of woes in Matthew’s Gospel. Matthew 23, you can find it: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.”[13] They were so concerned to keep their minor rules, but they wouldn’t hesitate at murdering Jesus. It’s a real warning, isn’t it, if some of us become legalistic about certain things and then allow ourselves other kinds of strange expressions?

Now, it is then, in that context, that they bring him before Pontius Pilate—Pontius Pilate, whose name we mentioned this morning and, incidentally, whose name is mentioned on a regular basis by millions of people throughout the world who, in their confessional Christianity, pronounce the Apostle’s Creed Sunday by Sunday. In fact, Pontius Pilate is probably mentioned as much as Jesus is mentioned or, in Catholic circles, Mary is mentioned: “suffered under Pontius Pilate.”

Who was Pontius Pilate? Well, he was the Roman governor. He was the Roman governor between AD 26 and 36. His official headquarters were in Caesarea, which some of you may have visited. It’s on the Mediterranean coast. But although his headquarters were there, he had a kind of subheadquarter base in Jerusalem itself, because the Roman authorities always kept a garrison in Jerusalem. And we’re told that since they were not—that is, these scribes and religious leaders—since they were not prepared to go in, John tells us that Pilate came out, and he met them. And in coming out to meet them, the scene is now set. The scene is set for arguably the greatest travesty of justice in the annals of jurisprudence. What unfolds here is like nothing else that has happened throughout the entire history of the world. It couldn’t possibly be, because of the characters who are involved.

Incidentally and in passing, for some who may be listening to me and you have to this point in your life determined that somehow or another, the Gospel records are not exactly what we would call historical—you may not say they’re mythological, but perhaps your perspective is “Well, I think perhaps it was cobbled together—you know, two hundred years later, they put it together”—what do you think, to make the disciples look good? Then I would ask you: Why did they make themselves look so bad? But I just mention it that Pilate is an historical figure. This is an encounter in the time of Jesus.

The Religious Leaders’ Accusation

Now, I wrote down four words in my notes, and I’ll tell you what they are as I go, but the first word is accusation. Accusation. Standing there, in front of Pilate, Pilate asks them, “What accusation do you bring against this man?” “What accusation do you bring against this man?”

The scene is set for arguably the greatest travesty of justice in the annals of jurisprudence. What unfolds here is like nothing else that has happened throughout the entire history of the world.

Now, the short answer to that is none. None. Because if you look at the text, you will discover that they have actually nothing to say: “They answered him, ‘[Hey,] if this man were not doing evil…’” What evil? “‘If this man were not doing evil, we would not have delivered him over to you.’”

Now, Pilate might have just said, “No, no, no, no. I was asking for an accusation. I’m not asking you to explain to me how brilliant you are or whoever you think you are. I’m asking for an accusation.” There is no accusation. My friend Ronnie Stevens says that what they’re actually doing here is claiming priestly infallibility. It’s a good notion, isn’t it? “Hey, we’re priests. We’re the people. We’re the elite religionists of the time. And I know you’re looking for particular accusations, but let me just say to you again: You’ve got to realize who’s speaking to you. Trust us. We know. Our verdict must be true, because it’s our verdict.”

It’s not too much of a step from there to conversations that we might have with some of our friends who are not religionists, but they’re scientists. I just got a new book on AI, and the fellow writing it—I may have mentioned this before, ’cause it’s in my mind—but he’s a neuroscientist from London. And just in a passing comment he says, “Of course, physicists now know that the universe is 13.8 billion years old.”[14] And I said to myself, “Well, how do you know that?” And the answer would really be “Well, we know that because we know things like that—unlike you poor souls, who apparently don’t know things like that.”

You see, they had been offended by the fact that Jesus was telling them the truth, and so they resort to telling lies in order to deal with him.

Now, the response of Pilate is straightforward. He says, “Well, thank you for that, but why don’t you take care of it yourselves?” “Why don’t you take care of it yourselves. This is not something for me. This is a matter for you Jewish people to deal with. I am not a Jew.” Their response is very honest: “Well, we can’t do that, because we don’t have jurisdiction. We cannot call for the execution. We cannot bring this to pass in and of ourselves. And that’s why we’re here.”

Now, Pilate was processing this, for sure. He understood it. So in other words, it was a conspiracy. And John tells us that they were straightforward about their conspiracy, and he also tells us that this was an indication of God’s sovereignty. John 18: “[We’re here because] it[’s] not lawful for us to put anyone to death.” And John says, “This was to fulfill the word that Jesus had spoken to show by what kind of death he was going to die.” They thought they were actually in charge, but they weren’t in charge. Their conspiracy was a real conspiracy. It was their plot. They weren’t automatons. They were doing what they wanted to do. They were evil men. And yet, they could not—nor can evil men today—thwart the sovereign purpose of God. What was unfolding here is akin to what had been unfolded earlier in John 18, when Jesus had said, “Listen, Peter, you can’t stop this process either. Shall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me to drink?”[15] And so that is it.

Now we go back inside—’cause he had gone out to greet them—and we are told that he then went back in. In fact, if you have any interest in this, you might actually reread all this record and see how much going out and coming in there is. So, they went to Annas, then Annas said, “No, we’d better go over here to Caiaphas.” Caiaphas says, “Well, let’s send him over to Pilate.” Pilate says, “Well, wait a minute. I’m out. I’m going in.” He went in, and then he went out. Then he said, “Well, let’s send him over to Herod.” They went to Herod, then Herod said, “We’d better send him back,” and so on. It was intriguing to me. I was breathless, actually, reading the whole thing.

Pilate’s Investigation

And so it is that Pilate, having rolled out of bed, as it were, now begins the investigation. Accusation, investigation. He’s in his headquarters, and he calls Jesus, and he addresses him.

Let me pause and just say that in 1988, we covered this material, but we took three Sunday mornings to cover it. And so you should be glad that you’re here this morning and perhaps weren’t here in 1988. We can’t cover all of it but enough to make sure we have a grasp of it.

Investigation, question number one: “Are you the King of the Jews?” “Are you the King of the Jews?” And Jesus responds by asking Pilate a question and essentially says, “Is that your own idea, or did others set you up? Is this that you are asking this question out of interest, or are you asking this question out of prejudice?” “Well,” says Pilate, “I’m sorry, but I’m not a Jew. It’s your people that have put you in this position and now have put me in this position with you. How is it that you even come to be here, Jesus? What have you done? What have you done?”

Well, Jesus could have said, “Well, I’ve done a lot of things. Because I’m here on account of being sent by my Father. And he sent me to preach good news to the poor, the recovery of sight to the blind, to liberate those who are captives, and to bring peace to a broken world.”[16] He could have said that. He doesn’t say that, but if he’d said it, it would be fine, because they’re evidences of Jesus’ kingly rule.

And so he says to him, “Let me explain to you a little about my kingdom.” Verse 36 or so: “My kingdom is not a military kingdom. My kingdom is not a political kingdom. If my kingdom was a military kingdom, then my disciples would have engaged in fighting.” Of course, he must have said under his breath, “I had one who made a stab at it, but I had to deal with him earlier. That was a bit of a fiasco.”

And Governor Pilate finds himself face-to-face with the King of Kings. He’s asking, “Are you the King of the Jews?” He doesn’t say, “Well, I’m the King of the Jews,” because after all, he was the King of the Jews, but he was far more than the King of the Jews. Pilate is brought face-to-face with the Lord of the universe. Pilate could have no concept of a kingdom that would “stretch from shore to shore.”[17] He could have no concept of a kingdom that would transcend the bounds of geography and history and ethnicity and sweep around the world. How could he ever? He’s so fixated on this.

Perhaps we should pause and remind ourselves of Psalm 2:

Why do the nations rage
 and the peoples imagine a vain thing?
The kings of the earth set themselves
 and the rulers take counsel together to set themselves
 against the Lord.[18]

You can go back two thousand years and find Pilate doing what you can find today throughout the world in those who are in positions of authority. You don’t find that men and women are by and large calling upon the nations of the world to bow down before he who is the King of Kings, to bow down before the one who was anticipated when we studied 2 Samuel: “And his kingdom will be an everlasting kingdom.”[19] It’s amazing, isn’t it?

“Well,” says Pilate, “so you are a king.” Jesus says, “Yeah, right first time. You’re correct. You’ve said it out of your own mouth.” I think that’s what he’s saying. He said, “Well, you say so.” He’s not denying it. He’s just playing him in some ways. Surely Pilate in this encounter must have been aware of the fact that he was dealing, and he surely knew he was dealing, with someone like no one else he had ever met—that in actual fact, although he was the governor of a province, although he was significant in his own little world, when he came face-to-face with Jesus, this was an encounter such as he had never had. The majesty of Jesus surely must have been pervasive. It could not be swallowed up. It could not be concealed behind bruises and a bloody eye and spittle on his face. There’s no way out for Pilate, as we’re about to see.

“You[’re] a king?” he says. “[Yeah.] For this purpose I was born.” That is the only time that we have in the Gospels where Jesus refers to being born. You say, “Well, he does it, he says it in other ways.” Yes, he does. But the actual phrase “I was born” is only here. “I was born.” Humanity, right? “I was born. I’m not a phantom. I didn’t appear, as it were, just from nowhere. I came down the same birth canal as any other human being in all of history. Yes, and I was born for this express purpose.”

The magi came to ask the question, “Where is he who [was] born [the] king of the Jews?”[20] He was King before he was born, he was King when he was born, he was King as he was born, and he’s King still today. It’s a reminder, in his statement, not only of his humanity but also of his majesty: “For this reason I came into the world.” Well, we all came into the world. But if I was to become a king, I’d have to try and step up. For him to become a king, he had to step down. He stepped down into our universe and for this very purpose.

The majesty of Jesus surely must have been pervasive. It could not be swallowed up. It could not be concealed behind bruises and a bloody eye and spittle on his face.

He is the truth, and he says to Pilate, in what must have been for Pilate a very significant and provoking thought, “I am the truth, and citizens of my kingdom listen to my voice.” “Everyone who is in my kingdom,” he says, “listens to my voice.” It’s a kind of rehearsal of John chapter 10: “I know my sheep, and my sheep know me, and they listen to my voice.”[21]

You see, that’s the distinguishing feature of being in Christ. Do you hear his voice when you read your Bible? Do you care to hear his voice? Or are you just a churchgoer? Are you just a religious person, trying your best to navigate your life, but you don’t hear his voice? “Everyone who’s in my kingdom,” says Jesus, “listens to my voice. It’s the truth.” And Pilate is now already moving out of the door, and his parting shot, of course, is “What is truth?” “What is truth?” It’s staring him, actually, in the face: Jesus is the truth.

Pilate’s Frustration

So, his investigation in some senses yields very little for him. He realizes that he is in a real quandary. And his verdict is very straightforward, in John 18:38: “I find no guilt in him.” He reiterates it again in chapter 19, a couple of times, in verse 6 and in verse 8. So what a predicament he’s in! “I find no guilt in him, and yet these people are here telling me that I should bring about his death.”

The investigation yields, I would suggest to you, frustration. I thought, “Well, I couldn’t use the word frustration. It’s too small a word.” But when I looked it up in the dictionary, it’s the right word, because the definition is as follows: “frustration: the feeling of being upset or annoyed, especially because of inability to achieve or change something.” That’s exactly where Pilate is! He is clever enough to understand what’s going on, but he is now trapped. People love trapping politicians, and he’s trapped right here. And so he’s seeking an escape route. He tried an earlier escape route, remember, when he said, “Well, this is not my jurisdiction. This is something that you Jewish people need to take care of on your own.” And they tell him, “No, no, you can’t get away with that, because we need you to accomplish what we’re trying to do.” Now he’s escaping, he thinks, by another route. Because it’s feast time, and “at the feast”—although I misread the quote but tried to fix it in Matthew 27—that “the feast [of] the governor,” it was customary “to release for the crowd any one prisoner whom they wanted.”

Now, he knew that Jesus was innocent. He knew that it was out of envy that they had delivered him up—Matthew 27, and we read it there. So he knew in his heart of hearts, “This man has not done what they’re saying.” He’s aware of the fact that their malevolent perspective was born of an envy that they could not stifle. And so he now is confronted with this. He wasn’t brave enough to do the right thing, but he figured he was probably shrewd enough in the art of the deal to get a deal out of this that would save his bacon and save Jesus too.

Now, if we had more time, we could go back through some of the underlying material—for example, in Matthew 27:14, when he says to Jesus, “Don’t you hear all the things that these people are saying against you?” and Jesus “gave [them] no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.” That must have been profoundly unsettling! Because he was used that people would respond by saying, “Oh, that’s not true, and that’s not true.” And Jesus said absolutely nothing. He was amazed.

Not only was he amazed, but he was unsettled by the warning that he just got from his wife. Now, I take it that he was sitting in the seat of judgment, it says. I’ve just been reading Cicero again with Robert Harris and those pictures there of Pompey and Cicero and Caesar and all of them in BC and the gathering and all of it is so vivid in my mind—and there sits Pilate, in authority, in an authoritative position! And somebody hands him a note from his wife. And as he sits there, ready to render a verdict, his wife says, “I wouldn’t have anything to do with that righteous man if I were you. I could not get to sleep all night in relationship to him.”

Amazed, unsettled, and outwitted by the chief priests and the elders. Because, as we read, they had decided that they would stack the deck, and they had made it a point to move amongst the people, encouraging them to ask for Barabbas and destroy Jesus.

So Pilate is out of options. His frustration is clear as we read the text. We’re told that from that point on, he then “sought to release him.”[22] From that point on, he determined to release him, but his conscience was drowned out by the cries of “Crucify him!” They weren’t asking for Jesus to be put in the cell in which Barabbas was being retained. They were asking for Jesus to be put on the cross which was being prepared for Barabbas.

Pilate’s Capitulation

So, the accusation, the investigation, the frustration, and, in a sentence or two, the capitulation. Capitulation.

Why doesn’t he release Jesus? Why didn’t he do what he knew in his heart was the right thing to do? Because rhetorically, his question stands: “What shall I [then] do with Jesus who is called Christ?” Well, he was cowardly. He was protective of his position. After all, he was the governor. He had an image to protect. His standing in Caesar’s eyes mattered more to him than what he saw in the eyes of the one who stood before him. And that is why when these characters who are gunning for Jesus play the ace, it’s inevitable that he capitulates. “From then on Pilate sought to release him, but the Jews cried out, ‘If you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend.’”[23] “So he delivered him over … to be crucified.”[24]

In closing, just a word or two of application—for this question is arguably the question of the ages. This is the question that every living person has to face, has to answer for oneself: “What, then, shall I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” There is no neutral territory. Neutrality is not an option. Jesus said, “Whoever is not [for] me is against me.”[25] It’s not either Christ or no one. It is Christ or someone. It is Christ or something. If we will not have Jesus as he is to us, a Savior and a King, then we will find another king. You may not have thought of your intellect as your king, but if that’s your raison d’être, if that’s your navigational principle, like the 13.8 billion or whatever it might be… Perhaps my secrets matter more to me than coming clean with Jesus.

When John Stott was confronted by this question as a young man, he said, as we began, “It was novel to me, the idea that I needed to do anything with Jesus.” Then he goes on to say, “I had been baptized. I’d actually been confirmed as well. I went to church. I read my Bible. I had high ideals. I tried to do good and be good. But all the time, often without realizing it, I was holding Christ at arm’s length and keeping him outside the door of my life.”[26] And the man said to him, “Well, it’s not sufficient that you admit that you’re a sinner or believe that Jesus died for you or that you consider the cost involved but that you do something, and that is that, in humility of heart, you invite Jesus Christ to take his rightful place upon the throne of your heart.”

The King, Aslan—Susan says, “Is he safe?” Mrs. Beaver says, “No, dearie, he’s not safe. Safe? Who said anything about safe? He’s the King. Of course he isn’t safe! He isn’t. But he’s good.”[27] Because there is no refuge from him. We will face him in judgment. There is only refuge in him, in Jesus. Pilate came that close, heard it from the Messiah’s own lips—and his friendships and relationships mattered more to him than that he would know Jesus.

It may be that some of us this morning have just filled our lives up with things that are empty. They’re little gods that don’t satisfy. They can’t. They can’t provide what they suggest they offer: “I’m a spiritual person. I do yoga. It means a lot to me.” I understand. Fine. But can it deal with your sin? Can it deal with your death? No. Only Jesus.

That’s why these questions are leading us inexorably to the cross. And that brings us closer to Good Friday.

Let us just pray.

Let’s come back to the song before the address: “I heard the voice of Jesus say, ‘Come [to] me.’”[28] Today, if you hear his voice, don’t harden your heart.[29] Welcome him in—13th of April 2025, confronted by the novel idea that there is something to do in order to know Christ.

And in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

[1] See Psalm 119:105.

[2] John 18:11 (ESV).

[3] Luke 22:48 (ESV).

[4] John 18:17 (ESV).

[5] John Stott, quoted in Timothy Dudley-Smith, John Stott: The Making of a Leader (Leicester, IL: Inter-Varsity, 1999), 93.

[6] John 12:19 (paraphrased).

[7] John 12:11 (ESV).

[8] John 11:48 (ESV).

[9] John 11:53 (ESV).

[10] Matthew 11:28–29 (paraphrased).

[11] See Matthew 26:59.

[12] Matthew 26:67–68 (ESV).

[13] Matthew 23:25 (ESV).

[14] Christopher Summerfield, These Strange New Minds: How AI Learned to Talk and What It Means (New York: Viking, 2025), 12. Paraphrased.

[15] John 18:11 (paraphrased).

[16] See Luke 4:18–19.

[17] Isaac Watts, “Jesus Shall Reign Where’er the Sun” (1719).

[18] Psalm 2:1–2 (paraphrased).

[19] 2 Samuel 7:16 (paraphrased).

[20] Matthew 2:2 (ESV).

[21] John 10:14, 27 (paraphrased).

[22] John 19:12 (ESV).

[23] John 19:12 (ESV).

[24] John 19:16 (ESV).

[25] Matthew 12:30 (ESV).

[26] John R. W. Stott, Christian Basics: A Handbook of Beginnings, Beliefs and Behaviour (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1991), 24.

[27] C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (1950), chap. 8. Paraphrased.

[28] Horatius Bonar, “I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say” (1846).

[29] See Psalm 95:7–8; Hebrews 3:7–8, 15; 4:7.