No one can snatch you from his hand. In John 10, accused of making himself God, Jesus answers with Psalm 82 and claims to be the God over every god.

One whistle, and the dog heads home. In John 10, Jesus is the gate and the good shepherd: the only way in, and the one who comes looking for us.

Lightning McQueen thought he was a one-man show. So did the Pharisees. In John 9, the man born blind makes a simpler declaration of faith: being blind, now I see.

Jesus spits, makes mud, and smears it on a blind man’s eyes. John 9:1–12, the strange gift of mud in your eye, and the simple obedience that opens ours too.

Would you really want Jesus to walk into the room? John 8:48–59, Abraham's whole life pointing to Christ, and the "I Am" that makes our faith present tense, not past.

You claim to be God's children, so why don't you look like him? John 8:21–47, a hard family-room conversation, and the grace of a Son who makes slaves free.

They came to the Light of the World, asking him to prove that he's shining. John 8:12–21 — why Jesus doesn't point at the light like a prophet, but says he is it.

A woman caught in the act, thrown at the feet of the judge of the universe. In John 8 the only man qualified to throw a stone puts it down.

Everyone who's anyone was at the great feast. Jesus shows up with no following, no credentials, and no endorsements — then stands up in John 7 and asks: are you thirsty?