“I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” — John 14:6

“I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” — John 10:10

“Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.” — 1 John 5:12

Jesus doesn’t just offer life—He claims to be the Life.

That distinction matters more than I think we realize. If Jesus were simply offering life, then it would be something separate from Him—something we could receive, manage, or define on our own terms. But if He is the Life, then life itself is found only in relationship with Him.

So I find myself asking: what is life, really?

Is it just breathing? Being alive? Existing day after day?

Or is it the fullness of life—the thing we often call the good life?

The world has a very specific picture of what the good life looks like. It’s comfortable. Convenient. Predictable. It’s having what you want, when you want it. Being able to provide for yourself. Eliminating hardship, pain, and trials. It’s being healthy, living long, having friends, and keeping everything from going too wrong.

But that version of life doesn’t actually hold up to reality.

Everyone experiences suffering. Everyone encounters grief, disappointment, and loss. And the person who always gets what they want, when they want it, doesn’t become whole—they become entitled. Comfort doesn’t create character. Convenience doesn’t sustain love. And ease cannot carry grief, answer death, or tell you who you truly are.

That’s not the life of a disciple.

And it’s not the life Jesus promises.

The life Jesus offers is not an easier life—it’s a different life. A deeper one. One rooted in presence rather than protection, and relationship rather than control.

“This is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” — John 17:3

Eternal life, Jesus says, is knowing God. Not someday. Now. It’s a present reality that cannot be interrupted by death. It isn’t fragile or dependent on circumstances. It’s anchored in union with Christ.

That’s why “abundant life” doesn’t mean pain-free, wealthy, comfortable, or convenient. Abundance isn’t about ease—it’s about overflow. More than enough. A life that remains full even when circumstances are hard.

This kind of life doesn’t avoid suffering, but it redeems it. It doesn’t protect the self at all costs, but instead forms the soul. Comfort may feel good for a moment, but it creates shallow roots. Discipline, surrender, and obedience grow something deeper.

Life, paradoxically, comes through dying to self.

“I am the resurrection and the life.” — John 11:25

It is impossible to have a resurrection without something dying first.

I think about this when I think about hard things. Running a marathon isn’t comfortable or convenient, but it’s deeply rewarding. Having children is neither comfortable nor convenient, yet it forms love in ways nothing else can. Even waking up early to read my Bible didn’t begin as comfort—it began as discipline. Comfort came later, but it was never the goal.

Discipline shapes who we become.

And that’s really the question underneath all of this: who do I want to become?

If I prioritize comfort and convenience, I’ll spend my life protecting them—because that’s where I believe life is found. But if I accept Jesus’ life as the good life—if I believe that He is with me and sufficient—then life is no longer fragile. It’s no longer dependent on circumstances. I’m freed to live for others instead of constantly guarding myself.

Freely I have received. Freely I can give.

The life Jesus offers is not shallow or safe, but it is steady. It is peace in chaos, joy that survives disappointment, purpose woven into the mundane, and hope that holds even in despair. It is wisdom for ordinary days, love that endures in relationships, freedom from the world’s definitions, the ability to forgive when it costs something, and a deep, abiding connection with God.

This is life.

Not comfortable.
Not convenient.
But full.

And it is found in Christ alone.