John 8:56-59 I Am
“Your father Abraham was glad that he would see my day. He saw it and rejoiced.” The Jews replied, “You aren’t even fifty years old, and you have seen Abraham?” Jesus said to them, “Amen, Amen, I tell you: Before Abraham was born, I am.” Then they picked up stones to throw at him. But Jesus was hidden and left the temple area.
Do you like your name? We’re all stuck with a moniker when we’re born, and we have to wear it and be known by it as long as we live. Most of us get three names: a first name our parents chose for us, a middle name that is completely pointless in my opinion—what’s the use of a name that almost nobody even knows you have?—and we have a last name that is handed down generation after generation. Well, at least about half of us get to pick a new last name at some point in our lives.
But there are some people who think children should get to choose their own name. In some cultures they do. In Africa there’s a tribe where, at birth the father just picks out any word that comes to mind, or maybe just a sound, and that’s your name until you decide what you want to be called. There are cultures where names change every now and then; think of all the people in the Bible whose names changed: Abram and Sarai became Abraham and Sarah; Simon became Peter; Saul became Paul; Naomi became Mara; Daniel was given a Babylonian name to go along with his Hebrew name. In some places today, people have their birth name, and then they pick out their own American sounding name, because Americans are apparently really bad at pronouncing foreign names.
We’ve all heard examples of parents who have stuck their children with really atrocious names, so it might seem reasonable to let people pick out their own name when they’re old enough. But I’m not sure I’d be any happier with a name that the six-year-old version of me would have thought was a great name. And if you change your name, then there's going to be a period of confusion, when nobody knows who you are.
Jesus of Nazareth, son of Joseph, had many names. Some were picked out for him hundreds or even thousands of years before he was born: Immanuel, Messiah, Shiloh, Adonai; he shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace; this is the name by which he will be called, the Lord our Righteousness. Then there’s the name an angel picked out for him, Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins. And a whole host of angels told the shepherds, “He is Christ the Lord.”
But for the next four weeks of Advent, since we’re not having midweek services this year that usually have a single Christmassy theme, we’re going to use as our Sunday morning theme the names Jesus chose for himself. The name he used most often for himself was “Son of Man.” Humble, and yet reminding us of the one whom Daniel saw in his visions, the Son of Man who was robed in majesty and glory because he was also the Son of God. But we’re going to focus on the memorable ways Jesus identified himself in John’s Gospel. He said, “I am the Good Shepherd. I am the Light of the World. I am the Bread of Life. I am the Door. I am the Vine. I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” Today we take a look at the most revealing name of all, when all Jesus said was, “I am.”
“Before Abraham was born, I am.” It doesn’t sound like much of a name: I Am. If you asked somebody what their name was and they said, “I am,” you’d sit there waiting for the rest of it. “Go on. I am... who?” In fact, it’s sort of the opposite of a name. “I Am” identifies the nameless one, who doesn’t need a name because he is the only one, the only God, the one who was around before names were ever invented or needed.
When Jesus said, “Before Abraham was born, I am,” the Jews picked up stones to stone him. They were furious that any mere human being would dare to call himself by that name. They knew exactly what Jesus was implying. If you or I were allowed to choose our own name, there might be a few names that would be off limits. You don’t get to steal somebody else’s identity. People sometimes share a name—there are actually a couple other Phil Paustians that I know of out there somewhere. But you don’t get to take someone else’s name for yourself as a way to claim you are them and they are you. That’s identity theft. And the one who owns the name “I Am,” has said, “That is my name. I will not give my glory to another, nor my praise to idols.”
He actually said, “I am the Lord. That is my name.” But “the Lord,” Yahweh in Hebrew, comes from the word for “I am.” As God first told Moses, when Moses asked him his name, “I am who I am. Tell the people I Am sent you.” No wonder the Jews wanted to stone Jesus.
But that was his name. The Son of Man who stood before the Jews was the very same Lord God who spoke to Moses and told him that was his name. He’s the same one who appeared to Abraham and gave him a new name. And before Abraham was born, this name already belonged to the great I Am. Before Adam was created, and that first and only man didn’t need any name other than Man, which is what Adam means, there was only the Lord, the great I Am. And he chose a name that tell us, “I don’t need a name.”
And yet the name tells us so much more. It tells us he’s eternal, with no beginning and no end. No past tense, “I was,” or future tense, “I will be,” just an eternal “I am.” And it tells us he is faithful to who he is. He doesn’t change. And everything he does for us, he does only because of who he is, the compassionate and gracious God, the righteous and faithful Lord. That is his very nature. That’s who he is. And that alone is why he is who he is to us, our Creator, our Redeemer.
We’re not going to look around for rocks to stoop down and pick up and stone him with for that; we bend down only to get down on our knees and worship him. This morning, we’re not gathering with those crowds to listen to the thirty-year-old teacher, Jesus of Nazareth; we’re preparing to gather around a manger bed, less than a month from now, to see a little baby. Christmas Eve, when the baby is only a few hours old, we’ll gather in worship and praise. So little, so new to life.
And what should be the most incredible, stunning thing about that tiny, newborn baby, is that it’s just as true of him. Before Abraham was born, this newborn was already I Am. Not even one day old, and he has seen Abraham? Yes. This child is I Am. His parents didn’t give him his name; he gave them theirs. He gave us ours—not our first name, middle name, or last name, but the only name given under heaven whereby we must be saved. He gave us his name, when he gave us the name Christian, when he made each of us a child of God by baptism and adopted us into the family of God forever and placed his name on us.
An angel told Mary and Joseph to name him Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins. Isaiah said his name would be Immanuel, God With Us. As we gather in wonder and awe at the child who was so much more than just the infant son of Mary and Joseph, his name should impress on us one more thing, the reason for the season. It’s a cliche: Jesus is the reason for the season, but his name tells us the reason is that we are sinners who need someone to save us from our sins.
And to know that it’s not just “Someone”—it’s not just some random itinerant teacher and healer who happened to be named Jesus who decided one day that he would make the ultimate sacrifice for all of us, but that it is truly God With Us, who had that as his goal from all eternity. He knew, before we sinned, that we’d need a Savior. He knew that no one else could save us. He knew what it would cost him.
You and I didn’t get to choose the names we’d be given at birth; we didn’t choose to be born. We did choose to sin. We may have inherited a sinful nature that made sin inevitable, but we also chose to sin. The very first time our selfish, angry, rebellious minds made a choice that put my wants first, we chose the name Sinner for ourselves. That’s who we are. That’s my self-chosen identity. A name is more than just a name; it’s an identity. Your name is your reputation. And every time we confirm that we still have a sinful nature by making foolish, self-centered, angry, or rebellious choices, we build our reputation, our own name. Even if your name doesn’t mean Sinner, or Liar, or Thief, or Cruel, it carries those meanings as it carries your reputation.
We can’t just kneel at the manger and think about his name; we have to think about ours. God knew who we were, who we were going to be, when he gave himself the name Jesus and became one of us, a Son of Man, a true human, flesh and blood baby, to save us from our sins.
The true human child, who has a whole lifetime of service and suffering and finally death ahead of him, is the same great I Am, who has had an eternity to make that choice to be that Savior. Of all the names we may use to thank and praise him for who he is, none says more about what an incredible, gracious God we have than the one that just says, “I Am.” In Jesus’ name. Amen.
“Your father Abraham was glad that he would see my day. He saw it and rejoiced.” The Jews replied, “You aren’t even fifty years old, and you have seen Abraham?” Jesus said to them, “Amen, Amen, I tell you: Before Abraham was born, I am.” Then they picked up stones to throw at him. But Jesus was hidden and left the temple area.
Do you like your name? We’re all stuck with a moniker when we’re born, and we have to wear it and be known by it as long as we live. Most of us get three names: a first name our parents chose for us, a middle name that is completely pointless in my opinion—what’s the use of a name that almost nobody even knows you have?—and we have a last name that is handed down generation after generation. Well, at least about half of us get to pick a new last name at some point in our lives.
But there are some people who think children should get to choose their own name. In some cultures they do. In Africa there’s a tribe where, at birth the father just picks out any word that comes to mind, or maybe just a sound, and that’s your name until you decide what you want to be called. There are cultures where names change every now and then; think of all the people in the Bible whose names changed: Abram and Sarai became Abraham and Sarah; Simon became Peter; Saul became Paul; Naomi became Mara; Daniel was given a Babylonian name to go along with his Hebrew name. In some places today, people have their birth name, and then they pick out their own American sounding name, because Americans are apparently really bad at pronouncing foreign names.
We’ve all heard examples of parents who have stuck their children with really atrocious names, so it might seem reasonable to let people pick out their own name when they’re old enough. But I’m not sure I’d be any happier with a name that the six-year-old version of me would have thought was a great name. And if you change your name, then there's going to be a period of confusion, when nobody knows who you are.
Jesus of Nazareth, son of Joseph, had many names. Some were picked out for him hundreds or even thousands of years before he was born: Immanuel, Messiah, Shiloh, Adonai; he shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace; this is the name by which he will be called, the Lord our Righteousness. Then there’s the name an angel picked out for him, Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins. And a whole host of angels told the shepherds, “He is Christ the Lord.”
But for the next four weeks of Advent, since we’re not having midweek services this year that usually have a single Christmassy theme, we’re going to use as our Sunday morning theme the names Jesus chose for himself. The name he used most often for himself was “Son of Man.” Humble, and yet reminding us of the one whom Daniel saw in his visions, the Son of Man who was robed in majesty and glory because he was also the Son of God. But we’re going to focus on the memorable ways Jesus identified himself in John’s Gospel. He said, “I am the Good Shepherd. I am the Light of the World. I am the Bread of Life. I am the Door. I am the Vine. I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” Today we take a look at the most revealing name of all, when all Jesus said was, “I am.”
“Before Abraham was born, I am.” It doesn’t sound like much of a name: I Am. If you asked somebody what their name was and they said, “I am,” you’d sit there waiting for the rest of it. “Go on. I am... who?” In fact, it’s sort of the opposite of a name. “I Am” identifies the nameless one, who doesn’t need a name because he is the only one, the only God, the one who was around before names were ever invented or needed.
When Jesus said, “Before Abraham was born, I am,” the Jews picked up stones to stone him. They were furious that any mere human being would dare to call himself by that name. They knew exactly what Jesus was implying. If you or I were allowed to choose our own name, there might be a few names that would be off limits. You don’t get to steal somebody else’s identity. People sometimes share a name—there are actually a couple other Phil Paustians that I know of out there somewhere. But you don’t get to take someone else’s name for yourself as a way to claim you are them and they are you. That’s identity theft. And the one who owns the name “I Am,” has said, “That is my name. I will not give my glory to another, nor my praise to idols.”
He actually said, “I am the Lord. That is my name.” But “the Lord,” Yahweh in Hebrew, comes from the word for “I am.” As God first told Moses, when Moses asked him his name, “I am who I am. Tell the people I Am sent you.” No wonder the Jews wanted to stone Jesus.
But that was his name. The Son of Man who stood before the Jews was the very same Lord God who spoke to Moses and told him that was his name. He’s the same one who appeared to Abraham and gave him a new name. And before Abraham was born, this name already belonged to the great I Am. Before Adam was created, and that first and only man didn’t need any name other than Man, which is what Adam means, there was only the Lord, the great I Am. And he chose a name that tell us, “I don’t need a name.”
And yet the name tells us so much more. It tells us he’s eternal, with no beginning and no end. No past tense, “I was,” or future tense, “I will be,” just an eternal “I am.” And it tells us he is faithful to who he is. He doesn’t change. And everything he does for us, he does only because of who he is, the compassionate and gracious God, the righteous and faithful Lord. That is his very nature. That’s who he is. And that alone is why he is who he is to us, our Creator, our Redeemer.
We’re not going to look around for rocks to stoop down and pick up and stone him with for that; we bend down only to get down on our knees and worship him. This morning, we’re not gathering with those crowds to listen to the thirty-year-old teacher, Jesus of Nazareth; we’re preparing to gather around a manger bed, less than a month from now, to see a little baby. Christmas Eve, when the baby is only a few hours old, we’ll gather in worship and praise. So little, so new to life.
And what should be the most incredible, stunning thing about that tiny, newborn baby, is that it’s just as true of him. Before Abraham was born, this newborn was already I Am. Not even one day old, and he has seen Abraham? Yes. This child is I Am. His parents didn’t give him his name; he gave them theirs. He gave us ours—not our first name, middle name, or last name, but the only name given under heaven whereby we must be saved. He gave us his name, when he gave us the name Christian, when he made each of us a child of God by baptism and adopted us into the family of God forever and placed his name on us.
An angel told Mary and Joseph to name him Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins. Isaiah said his name would be Immanuel, God With Us. As we gather in wonder and awe at the child who was so much more than just the infant son of Mary and Joseph, his name should impress on us one more thing, the reason for the season. It’s a cliche: Jesus is the reason for the season, but his name tells us the reason is that we are sinners who need someone to save us from our sins.
And to know that it’s not just “Someone”—it’s not just some random itinerant teacher and healer who happened to be named Jesus who decided one day that he would make the ultimate sacrifice for all of us, but that it is truly God With Us, who had that as his goal from all eternity. He knew, before we sinned, that we’d need a Savior. He knew that no one else could save us. He knew what it would cost him.
You and I didn’t get to choose the names we’d be given at birth; we didn’t choose to be born. We did choose to sin. We may have inherited a sinful nature that made sin inevitable, but we also chose to sin. The very first time our selfish, angry, rebellious minds made a choice that put my wants first, we chose the name Sinner for ourselves. That’s who we are. That’s my self-chosen identity. A name is more than just a name; it’s an identity. Your name is your reputation. And every time we confirm that we still have a sinful nature by making foolish, self-centered, angry, or rebellious choices, we build our reputation, our own name. Even if your name doesn’t mean Sinner, or Liar, or Thief, or Cruel, it carries those meanings as it carries your reputation.
We can’t just kneel at the manger and think about his name; we have to think about ours. God knew who we were, who we were going to be, when he gave himself the name Jesus and became one of us, a Son of Man, a true human, flesh and blood baby, to save us from our sins.
The true human child, who has a whole lifetime of service and suffering and finally death ahead of him, is the same great I Am, who has had an eternity to make that choice to be that Savior. Of all the names we may use to thank and praise him for who he is, none says more about what an incredible, gracious God we have than the one that just says, “I Am.” In Jesus’ name. Amen.
