The best solution seems to be that he was referring to the Resurrection, which would take place “a little while” after he had left them.

Rather, he is simply referring to his return in resurrection. He is departing from the world in his glorification and the world will no longer have access to him. When he returns in resurrection, it will be his followers’ final opportunity to see him as he has always been.

What clues point to the resurrection? (1) The opening words of 16:20 underscore the seriousness of Jesus’ answer. The NIV’s “I tell you the truth” disguises the Greek “truly, truly.”13 The celebration of the world (16:20b) can only point to Jesus’ crucifixion, which is contrasted with a time of sorrow for the disciples (16:20a), triggered by their shock at Jesus’ death.

There is no doubt that it is the resurrection of Jesus when the joy promised in 16:20 will be fulfilled.

Since these ideas—suffering and dramatic deliverance—are properly eschatological, this has led some commentators to say that Jesus is actually referring to the Second Coming in 16:16 (or at least that John is confusing the Second Coming with Easter, or reinterpreting it). But such a view is unnecessary. The cross and resurrection represent a dramatic deliverance; but more, they truly inaugurate an era in which eschatological gifts such as the Spirit are given.

But what about us today? We do not live in an era that can await such a moment of resurrection. The “little while” of chapter 16 is now long past. The resurrection of Jesus in Jerusalem is not a personal experience to which we can point, but instead has become a solid doctrinal position that we hold with fervor. I envy the Easter experience of John, Peter, James, and the other disciples. And I would wish that the blessing pronounced by Jesus in 20:29, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed,” did not belong to me and my generation. We live with spiritual imperfection and incompleteness, not unlike the disciples as they awaited Easter. Paul’s candid admission is that our vision is opaque, like looking through a dark glass or an ancient mirror (1 Cor. 13:12). We yearn for the day when we will see “face to face” (13:12b) and discover that all our questions have disappeared (John 16:23a).

This is perhaps where an application of John 16 requires that we understand clearly that Jesus participates in four episodes of self-revelation. (1) There was Jesus’ earthly ministry, which was filled with ambiguity for his followers. (2) His resurrection provided the confirmation and clarity they yearned to experience. (3) Jesus promised the Spirit, who would serve as his personal, indwelling presence during his absence. (4) We await his glorious second coming, when we once more will see him again.

I have just suggested that we are interim citizens of the kingdom, looking back to the resurrection and forward to the Second Coming—equipped by the Holy Spirit and eager to see Jesus as his apostles did. In this interim citizenship we need to understand fully what will be the character of our lives. For some interpreters, possessing the “victory of Jesus” means being exempt from tragedy, conflict, poverty, struggle, and disillusionment.

That is, the Second Coming serves the church much the same way that the resurrection served the apostles.

On the one hand the disciples are currently experiencing “grief” (lypēn), while on the other hand Jesus promised “I will see you again.” The shift in the focus from the disciples to Jesus is significant. It should remind readers that they do not pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. The gaining of hope is not ultimately a result of our own efforts. Transforming hope comes because of divine action.

The resulting action is literally expressed by the statement that “your hearts will rejoice.” For the Hebrew/Jewish writers, who loved to think in pictorial words, the heart was frequently regarded as the seat of the will (see Paul’s threefold analysis of the fallen human person in Rom 1:24, 26, 28; cf. Gen 6:5–6; Pss 7:10; 10:6–17; 14:1). Thus the transforming of the heart is regarded as crucial in gaining wholeness or salvation (cf. Jer 31:33; Ezek 11:19; 36:26). Here transformation is exemplified in the rejoicing heart.

Most people can endure a trial if they can see an end. Lack of hope is the ultimate agony of suffering, since “hope deferred makes the heart sick” (Prov. 13:12). In the midst of his trials Job lamented, “My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and come to an end without hope.… Where now is my hope? And who regards my hope?… He breaks me down on every side, and I am gone; and He has uprooted my hope like a tree” (Job 7:6; 17:15; 19:10).

“For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:17; cf. 1 Tim. 4:8–10).

During the seventy-year Babylonian captivity (Jer. 29:10; Dan. 9:2), God reminded the people of Israel that their ordeal would one day come to an end. “ ‘For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope’ ” (Jer. 29:11). In Jeremiah 31:17 He added, “ ‘There is hope for your future,’ declares the Lord, ‘and your children will return to their own territory.’ ” During the captivity, recalling God’s compassion gave Jeremiah hope:

This I recall to my mind,

Therefore I have hope.

The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,

For His compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,

“Therefore I have hope in Him.” (Lam. 3:21–24)

Interpreters disagree over what the second little while, after which the disciples would again see Jesus, refers to specifically. Some view it as a reference to the second coming, connecting the Lord’s illustration of a woman’s pain in childbirth (v. 21) with His reference to the birth pangs preceding His return (Matt. 24:8). But the two references illustrate different truths. The birth pains associated with the second coming refer metaphorically to the cataclysmic events of the tribulation. On the other hand, the Lord used childbirth in this passage to show that the same event that initially produces sorrow can ultimately result in joy. Further, it is difficult to stretch the phrase a little while from the few days or months of its earlier uses into the more than two thousand years that have elapsed since Christ spoke these words.

The disciples had not been heard from since Judas’s question in 14:22, but Jesus’ enigmatic statement in verse 16 startled them out of their silence. Unwilling to question Him openly (cf. Mark 9:31–32), perhaps because He had just told them, “I have many more things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now” (v. 12), some of His disciples then said to one another, “What is this thing He is telling us, ‘A little while, and you will not see Me; and again a little while, and you will see Me’; and, ‘because I go to the Father’?… What is this that He says, ‘A little while’? We do not know what He is talking about.” They had a difficult enough time coming to grips with the reality that Jesus was about to die (see the exposition of 16:12 in chapter 18 of this volume); His words, ‘A little while, and you will not see Me; and again a little while, and you will see Me,’ left them utterly bewildered.

In the day when the disciples see the Lord again (v. 23) and their sorrow turns to joy, they will not question Him about anything. That further suggests that the day cannot be the resurrection (cf. the discussion of v. 16 above). The disciples undoubtedly asked many questions during the forty days between the resurrection and the ascension that the Lord spent “speaking of the things concerning the kingdom of God” (Acts 1:3; one of their questions is recorded in v. 6). But after the coming of the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost, they would no longer question Jesus.

undoubtedly refers to the events of the forthcoming death and resurrection of Jesus, the departure of which had been alluded to using similar words in 7:33; 12:35; 13:33.

The idea of sorrow is indicated by the use of two Greek verbs: klausete (“weep” or “wail”) and thēnēsete (“mourn” or “lament”). These verbs represent the usual Semitic grief process (suggested by the Greek verb lypēthēsethe, “grieve,” and the noun lypē, “grief”) wherein the survivors would openly “wail” (cf. 11:31–33 as well as 20:11–15) and express their “laments” (cf. Luke 23:27; this verb is not used elsewhere in John).

In this text the joyous birth must surely be a reference to the expected resurrection of Jesus, but because it was used in connection with Israel’s messianic expectations, it could quite possibly also have had some eschatological overtones for the early readers of the Gospel. Such overtones seem to be suggested in the next verse.

The ‘little while’ of the previous verse after which the disciples would see Jesus no more was the brief period between the time of speaking and his crucifixion, and the ‘little while’ after which they would see him again was the three days between his crucifixion and resurrection.

For the true believer the sorrows of life are pregnant with potential joy. We see this in the lives of great Biblical heroes. Moses’ forty years of discouragement was followed by forty years of powerful ministry (notwithstanding the well-known vicissitudes of that ministry). Abraham’s despair over Sarah’s barrenness ultimately ended in joyous song. Our present difficulties too bear the potential of joy. True, some of us will never know complete joy until we are with the Lord, but even in life on earth, our sorrows bear the potential of a transformed and deeper joy. In broken families, in times of illness, in spite of financial reversals or outright persecution, our difficulties can bring us new joys.

Women often died in childbirth. The prophets commonly used birth pangs as an image of suffering, often stemming from judgment

you will see Me, was not immediately understood. Did Jesus refer (a) to the coming of the Holy Spirit or (b) to His Second Advent or (c) to His brief, 40-day ministry between His resurrection and His Ascension? The last interpretation fits this passage best.

While the immediate application may have been to the sorrowing hearts of the disciples, the ultimate application is to all of God’s people as they await the coming of Jesus Christ. To us, it seems like a long wait; but God does not measure time as we do (see 2 Peter 3).

The verb “ask” (erōtaō) in the phrase “in that day you will no longer ask me anything” means “to ask a question” rather than “to request a favor.” While the sense is somewhat obscure, since the verb came to mean “to request of an equal,” Jesus may have meant that at his reappearance after the Resurrection the truth of his claims and the status of his person would be self-evident. At that time the disciples would no longer question him as one of their number but would present their petitions to the Father in his name (cf. 14:13). As his disciples they would be eligible for the Father’s response to their needs.

Joseph’s brothers sold him as a slave, and Potiphar put him into prison as a criminal; but God transformed that hopeless situation of defeat into victory. Egypt’s persecution of Israel only caused them to multiply and prosper the more. King Saul’s murderous pursuit of David only made him more a man of God and helped produce the psalms that encourage our hearts today. Even Jesus took the cross, a symbol of defeat and shame, and transformed it into a symbol of victory and glory.

The coming new age would also bring a new perspective on prayer. Verse 23 says that at that time the disciples would no longer be seeking their clarifications or “asking” anything of Jesus (the Greek is actually an emphatic double negative). Carson thinks the two verbs for “asking” here have different meanings, but the distinction may be too refined for a Jew like John.

The “until now” of v. 24 again signals the inauguration of the new era of prayer, which is once again linked with the postresurrection promise of joy (cf. the rejoicing heart of v. 22). But the promise of receiving the answer to one’s requests, as indicated earlier (see my discussions at 14:14; 15:7), is premised not on using a correct verbal formula such as “in the name of Jesus” but on asking in the spirit of Jesus. Because of the promise of divine answers, one can expect to experience the “fulfillment” of joy. The perfect passive participle (translated “complete”) here emphasizes the continuing impact of such a fulfilling joy. Such an encompassing joy should be a mark of a vital Christian.

As noted in the exposition of 14:13–14 in chapter 9 of this volume, to pray in Jesus’ name is not to use His name as a formula, ritualistically tacked onto the end of a prayer to ensure its success. Rather, it is to pray for that which is consistent with Christ’s person and will, and to affirm one’s complete dependence on Him to supply every need, with the goal that He would be glorified in the answer. Such prayer was new to the disciples, who until that point had asked for nothing in Jesus’ name. They had either asked Jesus Himself, or prayed to the Father. But now Jesus urged them, Ask and you will receive, and then added the blessed promise so that your joy may be made full. Answered prayer, based on the finished work of Jesus Christ and springing from an obedient life (15:10–11), is a powerful force in turning sorrow into joy.

It is the love of emotion, which is consistent with agapaō, which is the love of the will. Phileō describes the love of parents for their children and children for their parents (Matt. 10:37) and of friends for each other (John 11:3, 36). God loves (agapaō) sinners (John 3:16), but expresses a special, fatherly affection (phileō) for His children—so much so that He sent His Son to die as the sacrifice for their sins (Rom. 5:8; 1 John 4:9–10). Because of that they can boldly and fearlessly enter His presence in complete confidence, as children for whom He cares deeply (cf. Rom. 8:15; Gal. 4:6).

John 16:33 records Jesus’ final words to his disciples before his arrest. Last words are always precious. These words given by Jesus are doubly so

Reflects the Hebrew šālôm, the customary Jewish word of greeting (see 20:19, 21, 26) and farewell. Peace fundamentally characterizes the Messianic kingdom anticipated in the OT (Num 6:26; Ps 29:11; Isa 9:6; Ezek 37:26; Hag 2:9) and fulfilled in the NT (Acts 10:36; Rom 1:7; 5:1; Eph 2:14–17). The pax Romana (“Roman peace”) was won and maintained by a brutal sword, and many Jews thought their Messiah would secure peace with an even mightier sword. Instead, the Messiah secured it by suffering and dying (Col 1:20). as the world gives. The world promises peace but cannot give genuine peace. troubled … afraid. For individuals, Jesus’ peace secures composure in the midst of trouble and dissolves fear (16:33; Phil 4:7; Col 3:15). See “Shalom,” p. 2693.

Believers have a dual existence: they are in Christ and in this world. In union with Jesus, His disciples have peace, but the world exerts a hostile pressure. The world system, the enemy of God and His people, opposed Jesus’ message and ministry (cf. 1:5, 10; 7:7). But Jesus won the victory over the system; He has overcome the world. As the “strong man” who came and ruined Satan’s kingdom (Matt. 12:25–29), Jesus is the Victor. Jesus wanted the disciples to remember this fact and to rejoice in His victory.

“Peace” reiterates the statement of John 14:27: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.” Even in the hour of his greatest suffering he had an unshakable confidence in the victorious purpose of God. Jesus did not overlook the trial that would affect them as well as himself, for that was inevitable in a world alienated from God. He did proclaim victory over it.

It is curious that Jesus here speaks of peace and trouble in the same breath. This forces us to carefully define what this peace really is. One sort of peace means the absence of all enemies; the other is freedom from anxiety while struggling with enemies. Who could not be at peace when there is no trouble? But it is the latter notion, peace within the storm, that Jesus has in mind. Donald Miller illustrates:

It is not noteworthy, for example, for a housewife to be at peace about her housework if she happens to have no children, little company, every modern convenience, and servants to do her menial tasks. It is astonishing, however, when a mother of five children, many visiting relatives, few conveniences, and no servants can work without excitement, without fretting, without worry, moving majestically through the confusion of her overburdened days with poise and dignity.

This type of peace—serenity in the midst of confusion—is superior to the “easier” peace because it abides while conquering obstacles rather than avoiding them.

Jesus’ words to his disciples informing them of their desertion would have troubled them deeply. But it would have been even more troubling for them to be overtaken by these events and to think that Jesus himself was also taken by surprise. So Jesus said, I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.

When afterwards the disciples felt ashamed and remorseful because they deserted Jesus in his time of need, they would be able to recall that he knew about these things beforehand and was still committed to them and still loved them. In this knowledge they could have peace in their relationship with him.

He now warned them of further persecution: In this world you will have trouble. It was another reminder that their lives would not be easy. In this world, i.e. in their relationships with a hostile world (in particular, unbelieving Jews), they would have trouble. To balance this, Jesus promised that in their relationship with him, even in the midst of their troubles, they would know peace.

One verse here at first sight seems out of place: ‘I have said this to you, that in me you may have peace.’ The point is this—if Jesus had not foretold the weakness of the disciples, afterwards when they realized how they had failed him, they might well have been driven to utter and absolute despair. It is as if he said: ‘I know what’s going to happen; you must not think that your disloyalty came as a shock to me; I knew it was coming; and it does not make any difference to my love. When you think about it afterwards, don’t despair.’ Here is divine pity and divine forgiveness. Jesus was thinking, not of how human sin would hurt him, but of how it would hurt these men. Sometimes it would make all the difference if we thought, not of how much someone has hurt us, but of how much the fact that they hurt us has driven them to regret and the sorrow of an aching heart.

John 16:33 records Jesus’ final words to his disciples before his arrest. Last words are always precious. These words given by Jesus are doubly so

16:33. This verse reveals the dramatic situation of early Christians who recognized that final victory would come, as Jewish prophets and teachers said, when the Messiah comes in the future; but they also recognized that the Messiah had already come and therefore had inaugurated triumph in the midst of present tribulation.

Before his return, followers of Jesus should anticipate tribulation in this world, but the promise of overcoming stands, because Jesus is the overcomer par excellence. Indeed, the theme of living as an “overcomer” must be anchored in the gospel of grace. We overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony (Rev. 12:11)—that is, by placing our faith in the finished work of Christ and our union with him (1 John 5:4–5, 11–12). Overcoming is not something we do for Jesus; it is something we do by Jesus.

the promise of overcoming stands, because Jesus is the overcomer par excellence.

Jesus summarized His mission in one sentence: His Incarnation (I came from the Father), His humiliation (and entered the world), and His resurrection, Ascension, and exaltation (now I am leaving the world and going back to the Father). This is what the disciples had come to believe.

Take heart! means “Be courageous.” (In the NT the word tharseō [“take heart, be courageous, cheer up”] was spoken only by the Lord [Matt. 9:2, 22; 14:27; Mark 6:50; 10:49; John 16:33; Acts 23:11].) Because He won they, in union with Him, can win also (Rom. 8:37).

In a word, how do I combine the victory of Jesus and the trouble of the world? Is it a sin or a failure of faith to admit to suffering and despair in the world? To admit to illness? Does this deny the victory of Jesus? For others is the acceptance of struggle and spiritual battle—to acknowledge the world in all its power—a concession that has no place for Christ as victor? Where is the power of God when the power of the world sometimes seems so overwhelming and we feel defeated?

In the reality of this sort of world, Jesus says “Take heart” (16:33b). The Greek verb used here is the same one Jesus used for his men in the boat during the Galilee storm (Mark 6:50). More accurately, it means to “have courage.” It means taking stock of the circumstances and still prevailing. But the basis of this encouragement is important in the balance of the verse. Jesus does not say, “Have courage—you will overcome the world.” The Greek sentence structure is emphatic: “Have courage—I have overcome the world.”

“Have courage! I have faced your enemy and vanquished him. I have fought your battle on the battleground of human experience where you must fight. I have routed the foe. You can never do it; but I have done it and I can do it again in you. Abide in me and my victory is yours.”

This is the great departure of Christianity from every other religious faith. It does not simply set out an ideal or a moral code; it offers a means of achieving it. Christianity is the offer of God to live in his followers and achieve in them the victory demonstrated in his Son Jesus Christ. And in that indwelling, an indescribable peace will be ours despite the fury and foment of the world around us.

Even though they would have trouble in the world, Jesus said, But take heart! I have overcome the world. This is ironic, for it would appear that the world overcame Jesus; after all, the Jewish leaders did succeed in having him crucified by the Romans. Yet Jesus insisted that he had overcome the world. In what sense? In that all its opposition did not succeed in turning him aside from what he came to do: to reveal the truth about God and the human condition, and to give his life that the world might be saved.

In 1 John believers also are said to overcome the world, and this they did by resisting all pressures to turn aside from the message about Jesus that they had heard from the eyewitnesses in the beginning (1 John 5:4–5). They were enabled to do so because the word of God remained in them (1 John 2:13–14) and because the one who was in them (the Spirit of truth) is stronger than the one who is in the world (the spirit of antichrist) (1 John 4:4).

These were courageous, audacious words, spoken in the face of the demonic hordes that would assault him in the following hours. How could Christ say such things? Because he believed in the process he so vividly outlined! He believed that his sorrow would be turned to joy! He believed the disciples’ sorrow would also. He believed that as they prayed in his name, their joy would multiply. He believed that the Father loved them.

He says to us today, “Do you believe? Then cheer up! It is a fact—I have overcome the world!”

“in figures of speech” (NRSV), is undoubtedly an attempt to communicate to earthbound humans ideas of the reality of God and of salvation. The word does not need to imply that Jesus constantly spoke to them in parables, as is suggested by the NLT. Thus one does not need, as some have done, to set this statement over against the one in Mark 4:33–34 in which Jesus spoke in parables to the crowd, but to the disciples he “explained everything.” The issue here is one of human capacity to receive divine truth. This fact is forcefully underlined in the next section when the disciples mistakenly think that the new era has already arrived, that Jesus can already speak to them in plain terms (parrēsia), and that they will understand before the resurrection (cf. John 16:23, 29).

The world, Jesus said, is not an easy place in which to live. In Johannine thinking the world is in the hands of an evil ruler (archōn; cf. 12:31; 14:30; 16:11). As a result the followers of Jesus are subject to “tribulation” (RSV), “trouble” (NIV), “persecution” (NRSV), “trials and sorrows” (NLT). The word thlipsin (singular, but undoubtedly with a collective sense) appears only here and at 16:21 to refer to pains in childbirth and is undoubtedly used to suggest serious difficulties for Christians.

But in spite of such predicted troubles in the world, the followers of Jesus were called to encouragement because Jesus had “overcome” the world. The use of the perfect nenikēka was obviously intended by John to communicate a proleptic sense of victory even before the crucifixion. It is the only use of this battle term in the Gospel, although it is used a number of times in 1 John, where the stress is on winning the victory against both the evil one and the inauthentic ways of the world (2:13–14; 4:4; 5:4–5 plus the noun nike, “victory,” at 5:4; cf. also the many uses of the term in the Apocalypse).

The Gospel of John and 1 John are not books that proclaim a defeatist attitude. They are realistic in that they take suffering, persecution, and martyrdom very seriously, just as the Book of Revelation takes them seriously. They are books of encouragement in the face of anxiety and genuine concern. They do not call the followers of Jesus to superficial discipleship but to a self-giving obedience modeled on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The Shalom they offer is not the peace of the world (14:27) because that peace is not peace, for it ends in violence (Rev 6:4). So in spite of all the concerns of the disciples, this ring of anxiety begins and ends with a message of hope—an ultimate hope to be with Jesus in his specially prepared place (14:1) and a hope of victory for living in a world of hatred and trouble (16:33).

It is the love of emotion, which is consistent with agapaō, which is the love of the will. Phileō describes the love of parents for their children and children for their parents (Matt. 10:37) and of friends for each other (John 11:3, 36). God loves (agapaō) sinners (John 3:16), but expresses a special, fatherly affection (phileō) for His children—so much so that He sent His Son to die as the sacrifice for their sins (Rom. 5:8; 1 John 4:9–10). Because of that they can boldly and fearlessly enter His presence in complete confidence, as children for whom He cares deeply (cf. Rom. 8:15; Gal. 4:6).

Despite whatever pessimism or skepticism they may have about ultimate truth, all people exercise a great measure of human faith in the mundane matters of everyday life. People trust that the food they eat, the water they drink, and the medicine they take is safe, that the planes they board will not crash during flight nor land in the wrong city, and that the houses they live in will not suddenly collapse. On a higher level, people believe in love, themselves, money, or even in some sort of nebulous higher power. Oliver Wendell Holmes’s vague statement, “It’s faith in something and enthusiasm for something that makes life worth living,” is the flimsy credo of many, if not most, in this culture.

Still, in the midst of all that, believers will enjoy divine peace. That is more than enough reason to take courage and have hope. The believer’s hope is in the Lord (Pss. 31:24; 38:15; 39:7; 42:5, 11; 43:5; 62:5; 71:5; 130:7; 146:5; Lam. 3:24; 1 Tim. 1:1), His Word (Pss. 119:49; 130:5; Rom. 15:4), the salvation He provides (Ps. 119:166; Eph. 1:18; 4:4; Titus 1:2), and the eternal glory that awaits in heaven (Col. 1:5, 27; 1 Thess. 5:8). That hope is made possible because Jesus Christ has overcome the world and conquered sin (John 1:29; Heb. 1:3; 9:26, 28; 1 Peter 2:24; 1 John 3:5; Rev. 1:5), death (John 14:19; 1 Cor. 15:26, 54–55; 2 Tim. 1:10), and Satan (Gen. 3:15; Col. 2:15; Heb. 2:14; 1 John 3:8). In Him, Christians too are overcomers (Rom. 8:37; 1 John 4:4; 5:4–5; Rev. 2:7, 11, 17, 26; 3:5, 12, 21; 21:7), for whom the Lord will work all things to their good (Rom. 8:28).

They were quickly arrested and brought before the Sanhedrin. But instead of cowering in fear, they bravely proclaimed the truth to the same Jewish leaders who had crucified Jesus. “There is salvation in no one else,” declared Peter of Christ. “For there is no other name under heaven that has been given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). Noting his courage, the Jewish leaders were astonished. “Now as they observed the confidence of Peter and John and understood that they were uneducated and untrained men, they were amazed” (v. 13).

That same supernatural courage and boldness is reflected in the examples of Stephen (Acts 7:54–60), Philip (8:5, 26–30), Ananias (9:10–19), Barnabas (13:46), Silas (16:25), Apollos (18:25–26), and Paul (26:19–21). Filled with the Holy Spirit and marked by personal conviction, these men were not intimidated by the threats of the world. Instead, they bravely proclaimed the truth of the gospel and rejoiced when they were persecuted (cf. 5:41), being confident of the promise that “greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world” (1 John 4:4).