Where is the Lord leading us and how can we know we are on the right path? These are questions every believer wrestles with at one time or another, especially in times of crisis. Oftentimes, we want to be faithful in obeying His call to follow Him, but the way forward is not always clear. For many people God feels hidden, leaving them wondering why He isn’t more obvious if He wants a relationship with us.
In John 14, the disciples are anxious precisely because Jesus is about to disappear from their sight, He is going away in a literal sense. They feel the sting of Jesus is leaving so He comforts them saying:
John 14:1-4 NASB: “Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. 2 “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. 3 “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. 4 “And you know the way where I am going.”
In that moment Thomas voices what all of us, at some point, have felt: we want to follow You, Lord, but we can’t see where You’re leading. We don’t even know how to take the next step. He captures the tension of wanting to believe yet still feeling confused or uncertain. So, he says…
John 14:5 NASB Thomas said to Him, “Lord, we do not know where You are going, how do we know the way?”
If someone does not know the destination, how can they know the way there? Thomas’s mindset in that moment, seeking a literal road or map, mirrors how we often approach God’s will. We’d prefer a detailed itinerary or explicit “next step” that tells us exactly where to go and what to do. Yet Jesus reframes “the way” as Himself, a relational path rather than a set of directions. For Christians who feel disoriented, “I don’t know where God wants me right now”, the problem often arises because we’re still looking for an external plan, when Jesus beckons us to a deeper inner commitment. He’s saying, “Walk with Me, trust Me, and you’ll discover the road as you go,” rather than, “Here’s your comprehensive route.” It doesn’t invalidate the desire for clarity; it simply calls us to anchor our sense of direction in a Person rather than in a bullet-pointed plan.
That’s the tension Thomas is feeling, and it’s our tension as well: “If I can’t see the final destination, how can I possibly know the way?” Jesus isn’t merely handing out directions, He claims to be the way. Which means we won’t find our security in some infallible map, but in a living, breathing relationship with Him.
Jesus does not simply show us how to get to God; He is our path, our ultimate truth, and our life-giving source. And that claim, as comforting as it might be for some, also comes off as exclusive and even puzzling, especially when God feels hidden. Yet it’s precisely this exclusive claim that addresses our deepest anxieties. Jesus says He’s enough for our uncertain steps, for our quest to find what’s real, and for our yearning to experience genuine life now and forever.
That’s why Jesus’ words in John 14:6 aren’t just doctrinal, they’re deeply personal. In them, He speaks to the core of who we are: wanderers looking for a way, skeptics looking for truth, mortals longing for life. Only He can fulfill those longings because only He is the way, the truth, and the life.
So what does Jesus say to those of us who feel spiritually disoriented, those of us who feel like Thomas, unsure of the way forward? He doesn’t hand us a map or a list of steps. He hands us Himself. He says, ‘I am the way.’ In those words, He’s addressing one of our deepest human longings…
Jesus can satisfy our desire for direction.
John 14:6 NASB Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.
When Jesus says, “I am the way,” He’s addressing our biggest human dilemma: we’re cut off from God. The disciples were afraid of being separated from Jesus physically, but He highlights an even greater issue, our spiritual distance from the Father. Ever since Eden, people have been lost, unable to find their way back on their own. Throughout Scripture, we’re called wanderers, straying sheep, blind travelers in the dark. We’re like exiles longing for home (Isa. 53:6; Isa. 59:10; Ps. 107:4–7).
But being “lost” isn’t only an ancient idea; it’s a modern reality as well. Cultural observers note that many people feel torn between spiritual longings and a secular outlook that often sidelines faith. Social scientist Robert Putnam (Professor of Public Policy at Harvard) shows how the weakening of community bonds [that used to be found through shared religious experience] has only heightened our loneliness, anxiety, and a sense of drifting. This spiritual homelessness has concrete consequences. Even secular psychologist Jonathan Haidt confirms that having a guiding story, or narrative, plays a major role in our mental and emotional well-being. The New York Times recently reported on the rise of “trad religion” among the younger generation, noting how many are rediscovering ancient practices and communities that offer structured meaning in a chaotic world.
The world offers countless paths toward ultimate meaning, new spiritualities, philosophies, moral codes, each claiming to solve our emptiness. But even those who reject organized religion orient their lives around something they consider ultimate, career, relationships, political causes, personal autonomy. We’re all following some path, consciously or not. Religious pluralism says all stories end in the same place. Secularism says you write your own ending. But Jesus doesn’t just claim to show us a better way, He claims to be the way itself, the very bridge between humanity and God.
This exclusivity challenges our pluralistic sensibilities. Religious scholar Stephen Prothero (Professor of Religion at Boston University) points out in his book “God Is Not One,” “No one argues that different economic systems or political regimes are one and the same… It is a lovely sentiment, but it is dangerous, disrespectful, and untrue.” Prothero demonstrates that the world’s religions are not different paths up the same mountain; they’re climbing entirely different mountains with different conceptions of the summit. Human-centered approaches always fall short.
Proverbs 14:12 NASB: There is a way which seems right to a man, But its end is the way of death.
Jesus doesn’t claim to be one way among many; He is the way, He is the divine bridge, the God-man who spans the chasm between humanity and God. We often think we’re just “far away” from God, but the Bible says the issue is deeper: we’re at odds with Him. It’s not merely that we need more information or moral advice; we need to be reconciled to our Creator, because sin has broken that relationship. If humans are finite and sinful, and God is infinite and perfectly holy, how can we bridge that gap? It’s not enough for someone to say, “Try your hardest” or “Follow these steps.” Our condition requires a cure that matches the size of the disease. No self-effort or religious routine can fully mend a split this deep. Jesus is uniquely able to reconcile us to God because He is both fully divine and fully human. He isn’t just a moral teacher; He’s God stepping into our human condition to fix what we never could.
In our age of relativism, we’ve confused tolerance (respecting others’ right to different beliefs) with relativism (claiming all beliefs are equally true). But true respect for others includes taking their truth claims seriously enough to evaluate them, not dismissing them as merely cultural expressions. If Jesus is who He claims to be, then His exclusivity isn’t arrogant, it’s the most loving truth ever proclaimed.
If we recognize that Jesus’ exclusive claim isn’t about narrowing our choices but about offering the one true path to restoration, then His role becomes more than a theological point, it transforms every aspect of our daily lives. In fact…
As the way to God, Jesus confronts how we live.
Jesus will never satisfy your desire for direction in life if you insist on forging our own route, rather than follow Him. He did not come to merely satisfy our intellectual curiosity. He came to lead us into a relationship with God. What paths are you trusting to lead you to God? Religious performance? Moral living? Intellectual understanding? Jesus says that all these paths lead nowhere without Him. Only through Him can we navigate our way to the Father. But even once we’re on the path, a new question arises: can we trust it? In a world of shifting values and growing skepticism, we long for something stable, something true…
Jesus can satisfy our desire for certainty.
John 14:6 NASB Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.
This is a bold claim in our skeptical age that often dismisses certainty about anything as naïve or even oppressive. Our rapidly changing culture and the endless diversity of moral opinions leave us feeling unsettled and uncertain. Doubt seems to be a hallmark of academic respectability in our most influential institutions of learning. Atheist philosopher Bertrand Russell once wrote that “the fundamental cause of the trouble is that in the modern world the stupid are cocksure while the intelligent are full of doubt.” Today, we’re simultaneously more skeptical and more gullible than ever. We doubt traditional claims to truth while uncritically accepting whatever confirms our existing views. The question “What is truth?” isn’t just Pilate’s cynical quip, it’s the defining question of our age. In his novel “The Brothers Karamazov,” Dostoevsky has his character Ivan say, “If God does not exist, everything is permitted.” Without a transcendent source of truth, we’re left with competing human narratives, none with any ultimate claim to authority.
Forging our own path feels empowering at first, yet every self-made route ultimately falls short when confronted with the weight of life’s deepest questions. Without a sure footing, our decisions, relationships, and even our identity feel unstable, leaving us adrift in an ever-changing, uncertain world. Our efforts to construct meaning solely from our own limited perspective can only go so far. We are, by nature, finite and flawed; our understanding is inherently incomplete. This imbalance not only leaves us unfulfilled but also deepens our sense of spiritual homelessness.
When Jesus declares, “I am the truth,” He’s addressing our struggle to think clearly, revealing that we are not just lost but actively deceived. We’ve exchanged God’s truth for lies (Romans 1:25). We don’t just need directions; we need illumination. We often look for truth in principles or propositions, but Jesus reveals that truth is not merely a set of facts to be known, it is a person to be followed. In Christ, we see the perfect revelation of God’s character, purposes, and promises, a revelation that stands as an unchanging beacon in a world of shifting values.
In John 17:17, Jesus prays, “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth,” revealing that truth isn’t a mutable idea but a divine standard set by God Himself. Truth is not dependent on personal feelings, cultural trends, or shifting ideologies. It is not uncommon to hear someone talk about their “truth” as if what is true is merely the sum of their personal feelings and experiences. Feelings are real and matter, but they change and can be misleading. Objective truth is grounded in the character of God as revealed through Jesus. When we align ourselves with His truth, we are embracing a reality that endures even when everything else seems to change.
In John 8:32, Jesus promises, “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free”. This freedom isn’t about mere intellectual satisfaction; it’s about liberation from the bondage of sin, error, and self-deception. In a world filled with competing narratives and subjective “truths,” Christ’s truth provides a stable, unchanging foundation that liberates us from confusion and instability. The Psalms reinforce this concept: Psalm 119:105 declares that God’s “word is a lamp to our feet”, illuminating our path in a world of darkness, while Psalm 119:160 proclaims that the sum of His word is truth, emphasizing the absolute reliability of God’s message.
When Jesus declares, “I am the truth,” He is not handing out a secret formula, but inviting us into an intimate connection with God Himself. In a culture where “my truth” often means a self-centered narrative dictated by fleeting feelings, this relational truth challenges us to look beyond ourselves. It calls us to see that knowing truth means knowing Jesus personally, experiencing His love, trusting His guidance, and allowing His presence to transform every part of our lives. In this relationship, truth is not static or distant; it’s a living reality that shapes our identity, influences our decisions, and provides the very light that guides our path in a world full of uncertainty. By embracing this relational truth, we move from a shallow understanding of truth as “what I believe” to a deeper, life-changing encounter with the One who is truth incarnate.
As the truth about God, Jesus confronts what we know.
Jesus challenges what I think I know about myself by revealing that I am not a self-made individual, nor merely the product of biology and circumstance, I am created. Not just created, but knit together intentionally by a personal God, in His image, with eternal significance. I may try to define myself by my past, my pain, or my performance, but Jesus points deeper: I am a soul spoken into existence by God’s will. His incarnation further shatters my assumptions, God didn’t remain distant; He entered creation, took on flesh, and claimed a place in our family tree. If He did that, then my origin isn’t random; it’s relational. I am not an accident. I am known. And that truth invites me to rethink every identity label I’ve ever worn.
Jesus turns my assumptions about purpose upside down. I’ve believed my meaning lies in success, influence, or the approval of others. But Jesus frees me from this exhausting project of self-justification. My life’s aim is not to build my resume but to serve others as He did, even washing the feet of those who would betray Him. This isn’t just a new goal; it’s liberation from the courtroom of constantly proving myself. The verdict is already in. I no longer serve to earn worth; I serve because I already have worth in Him. My purpose isn’t about achieving greatness but living from His greatness. In this freedom from self-preoccupation, I find the meaning I’ve been searching for.
Jesus doesn’t just challenge my morality, He exposes it. I tend to compare myself to others, to judge by outward actions and feel secure in surface-level decency. But He says that sin begins in the heart: anger is akin to murder, lust to adultery. He doesn’t lower the bar; He reveals how high it truly is, and how far I fall short. Yet at the same time, He draws near with mercy. He doesn’t come to crush, but to redeem. Jesus shows that morality isn’t about managing behavior but becoming holy, being transformed into His likeness. He gives a new command: to love as He loved. That’s more than morality, it’s love shaped by the cross. His standard humbles me, but His Spirit enables me. He doesn’t just teach me how to live; He gives me Himself so I can live in a new way.
I often live as if the future depends on me, my plans, my choices, my ability to hold it all together. I fear failure, aging, and death because I forget what’s certain. But Jesus tells me my destiny isn’t determined by fate or fear, but by His finished work. He went before me into death and came out the other side victorious. His resurrection declares that my future is not a question mark, but an exclamation point. If I am in Him, then I will live even though I die. That hope shatters my small, survival-based goals. It frees me from the need to hoard time or play it safe. Jesus tells me my destiny is not to be forgotten, but to be raised, renewed, and restored. I’m not just going somewhere, I’m going home.
What sources of “truth” are you looking to for guidance? Cultural wisdom? Subjective feelings? Jesus calls us to measure all truth claims against Himself, the ultimate standard of truth who illuminates our darkness. Yet His truth does more than just expose our darkness; it reaches deep into our hearts, transforming our very nature. But even truth, when disconnected from life, can become cold and clinical. What we’re truly longing for isn’t just accuracy or insight, but fullness…
Jesus can satisfy our desire for lasting fulfillment.
John 14:6 NASB Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.
When Jesus proclaims, “I am the life,” He’s not just offering a set of rules or a life hack; He’s addressing a problem at the very core of our being. We aren’t simply confused or in need of guidance, we are, in a deeper sense, spiritually dead, cut off from the source of true life (Ephesians 2:1). Imagine trying to power your phone with a dead battery: no matter how many tips you follow, the phone won’t work unless it’s actually recharged. In much the same way, knowing the right direction or getting some advice won’t bring true life unless our spirit is revived.
In our modern culture, many of us find that the pursuit of happiness, through achievements, relationships, experiences, or possessions, often leaves us feeling like we’re stuck on a never-ending treadmill. The writer Ernest Hemingway once remarked that “Life is just a dirty trick, a short journey from nothingness to nothingness.” These sentiments echo a widespread reality: despite our efforts, lasting satisfaction remains elusive. We chase short-lived pleasures, yet the deeper longing for meaning and fulfillment persists.
You might ask, “Isn’t the Christian promise of ‘abundant life’ just another version of the spiritual pyramid scheme promising future rewards for present sacrifices?” It’s a reasonable question in an age filled with empty promises and self-help schemes. But Jesus’ promise goes far beyond a mere formula for success or material gain. His words in John 10:10, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full,” point to a life that transcends the ordinary. This isn’t about chasing more fleeting pleasures; it’s about a radical transformation, a kind of resurrection that starts in the present moment.
The life Jesus offers is qualitatively different from mere existence. It is a life infused with meaning, purpose, and hope that reaches far beyond the temporal. Viktor Frankl was a psychiatrist who survived Nazi concentration camps. He wrote one of the most influential books man’s search for meaning. Frankl discovered that those who managed to endure the unimaginable were not necessarily the strongest physically but were those who could find meaning even amid suffering. They clung to a purpose that transcended their immediate pain. In a similar way, Jesus offers us a meaning that doesn’t evaporate when circumstances turn dark; instead, it transforms our suffering into a pathway toward something greater.
In Christ what seems like an ending transforms into a new beginning, a brokenness becomes beautiful. Jesus’ claim to be the life means that He doesn’t merely add a little extra to our current existence; He changes the very quality of our lives. It’s not about self-improvement or moral reformation in the conventional sense, it’s about becoming a new creation.
2 Corinthians 5:17 NASB: Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.
Jesus doesn’t just offer us a prescription for better living; He becomes our life. When we truly embrace Him, our identity is no longer defined by our past, our pain, or our performance. Instead, we discover that we are part of a grand, intentional design, a relationship with a loving Creator who knits us together with eternal significance. Our lives are no longer random accidents but are anchored in a purpose that is as enduring as it is profound.
This is the promise of resurrection life: a kind of life that begins now, even though it is often associated with eternal rewards after death. It is a life that offers deep fulfillment, where each day is marked by the liberating truth that we are known, valued, and empowered by God Himself. In this transformed state, our focus shifts from self-justification and accumulation to serving others with the same sacrificial love that Jesus demonstrated, yes, even washing the feet of those who would betray Him.
As the life that connects us to God, Jesus confronts who we are and can be.
His claim that “I am the life” challenges us to reject the shallow, self-made definitions of success and embrace a life marked by His abundance, a life that defies the temporary satisfaction of worldly pursuits. It is a call to rise above the instability of our own limited understanding and to step into the fullness of existence that He offers.
Are you chasing fleeting pleasures that leave you empty, or are you ready to experience the radical, transforming life that only He can provide? This is not a promise of an easy life, but a guarantee of a life that truly fulfills every aspect of our being, starting now, and lasting forever. In Jesus, the way becomes clear, the truth becomes personal, and the life becomes ours. He alone satisfies our longing for direction… for certainty… and for fulfillment.
Only Jesus can satisfy all these desires.
John 14:6 NASB Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.
Jesus sets forth a non-negotiable truth, not as an arrogant boast, but as a sober response to our deepest need for reconciliation with God. He clearly eliminates the possibility of misinterpreting Him as one way among many; He is the only bridge capable of mending the deep divide created by sin and separation. His exclusivity is not about limiting choice but about providing the only complete solution to our need for reconciliation with God. His claim isn’t a menu of options to be selectively patronized or dismissed; it is the only remedy for a divided, fallen humanity. Rather than inviting us to pick and choose, Jesus insists that our salvation and transformation depend solely on Him, leaving no room for self-serving, half-hearted responses.
If God truly wants to be known, why not make His existence undeniable? But this question often assumes that belief alone is God’s goal. According to Scripture, God is not merely looking for intellectual assent; He desires loving trust and willing submission. If God’s presence were coercively obvious, it would risk producing compliance without relationship, fear without faith, acknowledgment without affection. God’s hiddenness, then, is not an oversight but a kind of restraint. He conceals just enough to preserve the freedom that makes love possible, while revealing enough to make Himself genuinely knowable to those whose hearts He is stirring.
The harder truth is this: we often judge God’s actions by standards that would make grace a demand and mercy a debt. But the gospel reminds us that the real question is not why God hides, but why He reveals Himself at all. We are not seekers by nature; we suppress truth, we resist light, we prefer autonomy. So when anyone hears the gospel, or begins to sense their need for God, it is not a sign that God has finally shown up, it is evidence that He has already been at work, even before they knew it.
So His hiddenness is not hatred. His delay is not indifference. His exclusivity is not cruelty. It is a reflection of His holiness, His justice, and His unearned grace, all of which find their full expression in the revelation of Jesus Christ. And where Christ is made known, the call is clear: respond with faith, for God has come near.
Jesus’ claim, then, is not a form of cultural elitism but the only viable solution to our existential predicament. In Him, we not only receive a promise of eternal life but also a transformation that makes our present existence meaningful. His life offers a depth that transcends survival or mere existence, it is abundant, dynamic, and transformative.
I invite you to reflect on your own life. Are you satisfied with following a path that offers only a fleeting sense of security, or will you consider the radical, unchanging truth of Jesus? What sources of truth guide your life, cultural wisdom or subjective feelings, and do they really satisfy your deepest longings? Only in Christ, the one true way, can we find lasting fulfillment that transforms every part of who we are, both now and for eternity. Please, take a moment to ponder what the Bible says. In a world awash with competing narratives, Jesus calls us to anchor our lives in His transformative presence. If you’re ready to let go of unstable, self-made paths and embrace a life of true, abundant fulfillment, then this is the moment to respond.
