Why John is the Gospel for Dissidents
Each of the four Gospels tells the story of Jesus, each for different reasons and to a different audience, but The Gospel of John is different. Matthew, Mark, and Luke follow a familiar pattern—parables, miracles, exorcisms, teachings, the cross. They move quickly, focusing on what Jesus did.
John slows down.
Instead of simply telling us what Jesus did, John forces us to wrestle with who Jesus is—not just a prophet, not just a teacher, not even just a messianic figure. For John, Jesus is The Word—the divine authority behind all things, standing in direct confrontation with the world’s systems of power.
John’s Gospel doesn’t just tell a story; it calls into question the authorities of this world, and it does so because it came out of a people who were pushed to the margins and rejected for daring to elevate the authority of Christ over every other. It is a manifesto of resistance, a call to reject the religious and political systems that claim ultimate authority and to recenter our faith on Jesus alone.
For those who feel restless in their faith, or who no longer fit into the religious institutions they inherited, and for those who wonder whether there is another way forward—this Gospel is for you.
Who Wrote John and Why It Matters
I will be writing from the perspective that the Gospel of John, rather than written by a single man named John, instead arose out of a community, possibly initially founded by John (the book is actually silent on its own authorship). Unlike the other three Gospels, John seems to have arisen from a community of exiles—followers of Jesus who had been cast out of the synagogue, and out their own faith tradition. After the fall of the Temple in 70AD, and the consolifation of power by the Rabbinical Pharisee movement, Christianity, which had existed as a Jewish sect, was now seen as a threat and these particular Christians were pushed out of the synagogues.
The Epistles of John tells us that the there were also other Christians who had chosen a more institutionally acceptable path that did not accept them in their midst (3 John 9-10).
Johns Gospel, then, is not likely written from the perspective of those inside the system, but by those who had already been cast out of it. I have found great inspiration by reading this book as a faith statement of a community grappling with what it means to follow Jesus when the religious structures they once trusted had turned against them.
The Word
The first paragrap of Johns Gospel sets the tone for the audience. It begins not with a genealogy, not with a birth narrative, but with a declaration of cosmic authority:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. (John 1:1)
In both Jewish and Greco-Roman thought, logos (the Word) was the foundation of truth. It was the divine creative force (in Jewish theology) and the rational principle behind the universe (in Greek philosophy).1
Or, if I’m reaching, think of The Word like data. It carries information capable of changing the function of a whole system. Or you might imagine it as an idea that gets inside of someone and drives them to do something they would not have done before; like Leonardo DiCaprio’s character in the movie Inception, planting an idea in his wifes head that ultimately changes the trajectory of her entire life. This is the power of the Word to create and recreate, to influence and interrupt.
John takes this grand, universal concept and declares that it is not found in empire, religious law, or philosophy but in Jesus alone.
That essentially says:
Jesus, not Rome, is the world’s true authority.
Jesus, not religious law, is the full revelation of God.
Jesus, not human institutions, defines who belongs in the Kingdom.
From the very first verse, John is making a claim so dangerous that it threatens both political and religious power. And the rest of his Gospel will prove it.
What It Means to Read John as a Dissident
One of the clearest themes in John is that power makes people blind to Jesus.
The religious leaders rejected him. They called him dangerous. They accused him of violating their traditions.
The political rulers dismissed him. Pilate stared truth in the face and asked, “What is truth?” before sentencing Jesus to die.
The crowds misunderstood him. They wanted a king who would wield power their way—someone to overthrow Rome, not someone who would surrender to the cross.
But who did recognize Jesus?
• John the Baptist—a prophet in the wilderness, an outsider to religious authority.
• The Samaritan woman—a social and religious outcast.
• The man born blind—marginalized, ignored, but able to see what the Pharisees could not.
• Mary Magdalene—a woman, dismissed by society, but the first to witness the resurrection.
In Johns Gospel, the ones who cling to power and certainty fail to recognize Jesus, while the ones who are outcast, searching, and powerless see him clearly.
This isn’t just history; it is a warning.
Because religious institutions—whether ancient or modern—often have a vested interest in maintaining control. Political systems—whether Rome or today’s governments—thrive on domination and fear. And John’s Gospel unmasks both; Jesus does not seek power, He exposes it.
To read John as a dissident is to recognize that Jesus does not reinforce empire, nor does he try and make it better—he stands outside of it. He does not consolidate religious control, nor does he seek to reform it—he disrupts it. And he does not cater to the powerful or ask them for their support—he lifts up the ones they ignore.
To read John as a dissident is to realize that political movements, religious institutions, or national identities cannot own Jesus. He is The Word—the one who exposes false authority, rescues the rejected, and invites us into a Kingdom that refuses to play by the world’s rules. And if that is the kind of thing that has put you at odds with the system? You’re in good company.
This Gospel calls us to a faith that cannot be controlled by the powerful. This is not a safe Gospel, and we will read it as dissidents.
(Wes Howard-Brook, 52)