On the concluding chapters of our Gospel I cannot speak particularly now. Yet I must, in passing, point out that even in these solemn closing scenes the glory of the Son’s person is ever the prominent figure. Hence we have no notice of His agony in the garden, nor of God’s forsaking Him on the tree. Matthew depicts Him as the suffering Messiah, according to psalms and prophets; Mark, as the, rejected Servant and Prophet of God; Luke, as the perfect and obedient Son of man, who shrank from no trial either for soul or body, but even on the cross prayed for His enemies, filling a poor sinner’s heart with the good news of salvation, and committing His spirit with unwavering confidence to—His Father. The point here is the Son of God with the world, the Jews especially being His enemies. Hence, John tells us (chapter 18.) what no other Gospel does, that when the band came to take Jesus, led by one who knew too well the spot where His heart had so often poured itself out to the Father, at once they went backward, and fell to the ground. Do you suppose Matthew let it slip? or that Mark and Luke never heard of it? Is it conceivable that a fact so notorious —the very world being the objects of the divine power that cast them prostrate to the ground—could be hidden from, or forgotten by, friends or foes? Or if even men (not to speak of the Spirit’s power) would forget such a thing, did the rest think it too slight for their mention? All such suppositions are preposterous. The true explanation is, that the Gospels are written with divine design, and that here, as everywhere, John records a fact which falls in with the Spirit’s object in his Gospel. Did these men come to seize Jesus? He was going to be a prisoner, and to die; in the one case, as much as in the other, He would prove it was not of man’s constraint, but of His own will and in obedience to His Father’s. He was a willing prisoner, and a willing victim. If none could take His life unless He laid it down, so none could take Him prisoner unless He gave Himself up. Nor was it simply that He could ask His Father for twelve legions of angels, as He says in Matthew; but, in John, did He want angels? They might and did ascend and descend on Him as Son of man; but He had only to speak, and it was done. He is God.
The moment He said, “I am he,” without lifting a finger, or even audibly expressing a desire, they fell to the ground. Could this scene be suitably given by any other than John? Could he leave it out who presents his Master as the Son and the Word who was God?
Again, we have our Lord’s calm rebuke to Peter, who had cut off the ear of Malchus. Let Luke alone tell us of the Lord’s gracious healing (for Jehovah’s power, to heal was not absent); John alone adds, “The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?” He preserves throughout His personal dignity and His conscious relationship, but withal in perfect submission to His Father.