But I do have one other theory on the mystery of why we don’t know this disciple’s name, just that he is the disciple whom Jesus loved. I think because this disciple has no name, the writer is inviting you and me to put ourselves in his place. We are invited to be that beloved disciple sitting next to Jesus at that last supper, standing at the foot of the cross in desperation wondering why, running to see the empty tomb and be the first to know that God raised him, recognizing after a night of wasted effort that it is Jesus standing on our beach, tagging along after others to make sure we can hear what Jesus says, and then being the ones to tell others about Jesus. There is something powerful about each of us being the disciple whom Jesus loves.
Me? A disciple whom Jesus loves? A disciple who has a special relationship with the Lord like the writer of John’s gospel? It takes your breathe away. It makes your heart skip.
Yet, isn’t that true? Aren’t we taught that each of us is loved infinitely by an amazing savior? Many have said that if there were only one of us who had sinned and gone astray, Jesus would have died for that one person. Our names are very important, but is there anything more important about us than that Christ has indeed loved us with his death and resurrection? Maybe the gospel writer knows that there is no better way to describe ourselves or even name ourselves than simply this: disciples whom Jesus loves. How cool is that?
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