This passage evokes images from movies and really bad fundamentalist Christian videos. When I read it, I imagine an exorcism scene where the sweat-stained minister has his hands wrapped around the head of some poor soul writhing in agony from the demon inside her.

“Do you confess that Jesus is Lord?” asks the minister as little bits of spittle fly from the corner of his mouth?

“Nooooooooo. Neverrrrr!” the girl shrieks in an unearthly tone.

I could continue, but I think you get the picture. Speaking of picture, do you like the old icon of Jesus casting the demon out of the man and into pigs? It’s clear that our culture—along with centuries of Christendom—have done a lot of damage to what scriptures like this really mean. This week I want to explain what is meant by “every spirit” and take the text in a more practical direction.

There is a lot of talk of “spirits” in this section:

• Don’t believe every spirit
• Test the spirits
• Here’s how you know the spirit of God
• Every spirit that confesses
• Every spirit that does not confess
• Spirit of the antichrist
• This is how we know the spirit of truth
• This is how we know the spirit of error

The word for Spirit is pneuma (fun fact: in Greek, the “p” is never silent. Pronunce it pu-noo-mah). It can mean the human spirit, the Holy Spirit, breath, or even wind. Context tells you what is intended. It’s to context that we turn now.

When you boil down all the references to Spirit in this passage you’re left with two spirits:

1. The Spirit of truth: confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh, is from God
2. The Spirit of error: does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh, is the spirit of the antichrist

There’s one more important clue to the meaning of “spirit” in this section. In the first verse, spirits that are from God are contrasted with “false prophets”. In a very real sense, false prophets are led by the spirit of error—all that is anti-Christ.

John spoke of testing the “spirits” (plural), because the spirit of error (singular) takes on many forms. When it’s all boiled down, however, all teaching in the church finds its source in one of two places. John Stott (as usual) said it well:

Every prophet is the mouthpiece or spokesman of some spirit, true prophets of “the Spirit of God” (2), who in verse 6 is called “the Spirit of truth”, and false prophets of “the spirit of falsehood” (6b) or “the spirit of the antichrist” (3). So behind every prophet is a spirit, and behind each spirit either God or the devil. (The Letters of John 156)

. . .

John’s church struggled with a false teaching called docetism. This is clear from the specific nature of the test John offered: “every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God.” (v. 2 ESV, emphasis mine). In a nutshell, the various forms of docetism believed that the universe consisted of spirit and matter. Matter is all around us. It consists of everything we see, smell, taste, touch, or hear. Spirit, on the other hand, is much more important.

In terms of Christian theology, then, how on earth could God (pure Spirit) condescend and be made out of mere matter? There must be some mistake. Christian docetists believed that Jesus only appeared to be human—he never actually consisted of matter.

John 1:14 immediately springs to my mind:

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. (ESV)

The whole point of the gospel is that Jesus did actually condescend. He left the side of his father and put on materiality. Or, as Paul said in Philippians 2:6-7 (ESV):

[Jesus], though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.

 . . .

Lest we start to think that docetism is an old heresy that’s been completely put to bed, let’s consider our worldview for a moment. It’s popular today to understand “spirituality” as unconcerned with materiality. We still tend to cling to the false idea that spirit is good, while matter is bad. The goal of the mystic, in many of our churches, is to transcend time and materiality to contemplate the heavenly realms in all their immaterial bliss. This runs counter to the entire witness of Scripture.

God created matter. He called it good. God created humans out of dirt. He called us very good. Jesus took on materiality, thereby sanctifying it. The last picture we have in the Bible is not disembodied bliss, but a new heaven and new earth coming down to meet us. Matter in all its messiness is God-created beauty.

Eugene Peterson was the first person to shift my thinking in this direction. Sure, I can experience God in a canoe in the wilderness (and I often do). But if I can’t see the face of God in the snot-stained child that wants a hug or the foul-breathed loud-talker, what good is my wilderness experience?

We’re closer to docitism today than we think. We may not be tempted to believe that Jesus somehow avoided coming in the flesh—but we long to escape it!

. . .

A healthy spirituality is grounded in the world while reflecting the glory of Christ. After all, it’s pretty hard to proclaim good news to the poor, freedom to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed if all you want to do is escape their world.

< 1 John 3:23-24 | To Sum This Up …

1 John 4:4-6 | He Who Is In You …>

There’s a old joke older pastors used to make when they got close to the end of their sermon but didn’t feel like stopping. “I’m just circling the runway,” they say. This is usually followed by a recap of the main point of the message that launches the speaker into another diversion before almost touching down yet again. I’ve known preachers who could keep their message aloft for hours (literally). Sometimes I wondered if they ever really thought about how they were going to land the plane before they started speaking!

It’s tempting to lump John in with the rest who circle the runway endlessly. After all, he’s an aged—or, shall we say, seasoned—apostle. He has made his points well over the last three chapters, but he doesn’t seem to want to stop reinforcing them. In my cynical moments, I wonder if the old apostle was starting to forget what he had already said!

After looking at his writings a little closer and feeling his heart for his people, I think he’s just desperate to know that his people will “get it.” At his age, recognizing his own mortality, his greatest desire was for his people to obey, love, and abide.

. . .

In the last devotion, we looked at how we receive what we ask from God because we keep his commandments (v. 22). As we develop a life of obedience to God, our desires become God’s desires and we work with him in prayer. Now John gets a little more specific. After talking about commandments (plural) in v. 22, he defined more precisely what he meant: “This is his commandment” (singular) (v. 23 ESV).

Forget trying to live your life by a million and one carefully crafted rules for every situation. There’s only one commandment to be concerned about, albeit in two parts (v. 23, ESV):

1. “Believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ”
2. “Love one another”

We have already heard plenty about loving one another. Here John ties it to belief. Believing in the name of God’s Son, Jesus Christ and loving one another are inseparable. They make up one commandment. You can’t claim a belief in Jesus if you don’t love your neighbour. On the other hand, you can’t truly love your neighbour without that love first stemming from a belief in Jesus.

John’s talk about “belief” here is new to the epistle. It’s a word he will return to frequently in the final two chapters. It’s more than mere head-knowledge. Belief in God is a deep-rooted trust that grows. And you can’t say you believe Jesus unless you obey him.

The trust game, so popular at corporate retreats and youth conventions, demonstrates this. In the simple game, you fall backwards, trusting the person behind you to catch you. If you are unwilling to fall backwards, it doesn’t matter how much you say you believe the person—your actions have demonstrated that there’s no trust there. Obeying Jesus’ command to love each other is part-and-parcel of our belief in him.

. . .

Obeying God’s commandment to believe in his Son and to love each other has an incredible benefit: mutual indwelling. Let’s look a little more closely at v. 24 (ESV): The person who obeys “abides in God, and God in him.”

What a beautiful expression! We abide in God at the same time that God abides in us. This is the sort of relationship Jesus had with his Father:

How can you say, “Show us the Father”? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? (John 14:9-10, ESV)

Theologically speaking, this interpenetrating relationship is called perichoresis. It’s a beautiful mystery that we are participants in. If you’re ever looking for a verse to meditate on for a long time, this is your candidate. God abides in us at the same time as we abide in him. That mystical truth has the potential to transform our every waking moment.

The confirmation of this mutually indwelling relationship is the Holy Spirit—a topic until now unexplored in John’s letter.

. . .

I’ve been training for a half marathon coming up next month. Part of my preparation includes a long run every Saturday. Last Saturday was particularly hot, so instead of running a big 18 kilometre loop around town, I ran 8km, 6km, and 4km loops sequentially. This allowed me to swing by my house for a drink of water along with a bit of peanut-butter sandwich for energy.

Perhaps that’s a better metaphor for what John is up to here, rather than simply circling the runway. He’s stopped back to emphasize what he had been teaching from the start of the letter (obedience, love, abiding), only to pick up some new themes for the rest of his letter (believe, Holy Spirit).

Whether circling the runway or looping back home, John is well worth following.

< 1 John 3:19-22 | A Clean Conscience

1 John 4:1-3 | Testing the Spirits >

Finally, the day arrived. I wrote a little fable/allegory about our relationship and bound it in wooden covers. I determined to read the story to her and drop to my knee when I turned the last page to reveal the engagement ring. (Corney, I know—at least it was unique.)

I spent the morning browsing second hand bookstores to calm my nerves and provide sufficient back-story for my plan. (“Look at the interesting book I found!”) After walking to her apartment, I put my intentions into action and began to read her the book. My mind was swirling. I had to wipe little beads of sweat off my forehead. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. All sorts of completely irrational fears cycled through my mind: What if she thinks the story’s lame? What if she’s changed her mind? What if she says no?

Well, she said yes . . . a little over 14 years ago.

I still can’t explain those odd fears. To my rational mind, our marriage was a done deal. We had talked about it and were both on the same page. It was my heart that got nervous. This is where my story intersects John’s letter. To my rational mind, I know I’m “from the truth” (to use John’s language). What happens, though, when my irrational heart overrides my mind?

. . .

The human heart is a fickle thing. Jeremiah called it “devious” and “perverse” (17:9, NRSV). Despite our mind’s best intentions, irrational fears and worries can take hold of the best of us. No where is this more serious than with respect to our salvation itself. What do we do when our heart challenges our mind to question our salvation? (I wrote, “when,” not “if,” following John’s lead in v. 20.) What sort of assurance can we find? John provided a twofold answer in v. 20 (NRSV):

1. “God is greater than our hearts.”
2. “He knows everything.”

Our hearts can become myopic, only focusing on one thing. The smallest detail of a person can become an unquenchable obsession when the heart runs wild. One little though, such as, “are you sure . . .” can send us into spirals of doubt. Fortunately, God is greater than our hearts in that he knows everything. We may be shortsighted but God is not. We can run to him with our irrational heart-fears and ask him to deepen our faith. The next time you question your faith, run to God in prayer for assurance. He is the best antidote for fear.

. . .

Speaking of prayer, John moved immediately in this direction. Once our hearts are settled, we are freed up to engage God in prayer. It’s a matter of focus. As long as our fears run loose, we focus on ourselves: my salvation, my assurance, my protection, my safety. Once we allow God to calm our hearts, we can turn our attention beyond ourselves to his Kingdom.

This hardly needs saying, but just in case: please don’t read the first part of v. 22 in isolation (“we receive from him whatever we ask”). Boldness before God in prayer isn’t carte blanche to indulge in our wildest mammon-driven fantasies. The verse goes on to remind us that we receive whatever we ask precisely because (NRSV):

1. “We obey his commandments.”
2. We “do what pleases him.”

This is a common theme in the Christian life. As we align ourselves more and more with God’s Kingdom-values, we being to receive what we ask for in prayer, because we’re desiring the same things God desires. The Psalmist reminds us,

The steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting
on those who fear him,
and his righteousness to children’s children,
to those who keep his covenant
and remember to do his commandments.
(Psalm 103:17-18 NRSV)

. . .

I don’t know whether you question your salvation very often. If you do, these verses are tailor-made to suit your situation. If you don’t, the heart can still be a sinister force in every other area of the Christian life. It’s best to run to the One who is greater so we can be freed up to pray the work of the Kingdom into existence.

< 1 John 3:17-18 | All Talk, No Action?

1 John 3:23-24 | To Sum This Up … >

I’m a multi-billionaire . . . just not in Canada. I keep a genuine Five Billion Dollar banknote from the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe pinned to the wall above my laptop screen to mock the so-called no-god of Mammon.

The Zimbabwean dollar has had a troubled past. From its introduction in 1980 it’s been reintroduced three additional times, each time lobbing off zeroes to make sense of the actual amount. The currency met its end in 2008. It’s face value became meaningless in the with a 231,150,888.87% inflation rate (yes, you read that number right). People now use American dollars as well as other African currencies to trade.

My church supports missionaries at Village of Hope, a mission work in Harare. On a trip to a local store rumored to have some food, one of the missionaries found a 20 lb bag of onions for Five Hundred Billion Dollars. After trying in vain to figure out what that price actually meant, he decided to buy it. By the time he got to the till, the price had increased to One Trillion. Put that in perspective: back in 2008, the banknote on my wall would have purchased me about 1 1/2 oz of onions.

The God of Mammon is fickle construct and deserves to be mocked. Why, then, are so many of us Christians captivated by its golden charm?

. . .

Back in verse 16, we were told that true love lays down its life for another, just as Jesus died for us. That’s a big order to fill. Here, John narrows down the epic scope of divine love to something believers can act on immediately. He stated the question negatively: how can God’s love—that majestic self-sacrificing love of Jesus—abide in someone who:

1. Has the World’s goods.This is a logical place to start. You can’t give what you don’t have—but how many of us have absolutely nothing to give? Poor by our standards is not necessarily poor. Have you heard of the Global Rich List? It’s a website that calculates your net worth on a scale that considers the entire world. It’s a paradoxically humbling thing. For example, if you make just $20,000 Canadian per year, that puts you in the top 12% of the world’s richest people. While that should make you feel better about your financial situation, it certainly challenges the thought that you can’t afford to give. If you’re reading this post on a computer, it’s fair enough to say that we have the world’s goods. This phrase isn’t an excuse.
2. Sees a brother or sister in need. Sometimes our vision breaks down. We may recognize that we’re wealthy, yet shelter our eyes to the needs around us. It’s easy, especially in our Christian subculture, to ignore the needs around us in a misguided effort the “keep oneself unstained by the world” (James 1:27). But that’s only half of what James said. Keeping ourselves unstained is tied up with caring for orphans and widows. I suspect the “stain” James had in mind was more self-centredness. Back to our text: one thing that’s important to note about this phrase is the singular construct. All along, John spoke in the plural: “children of God” (1 John 3:1), “everyone who commits sin” (1 John 3:4), “Those who have been born” (1 John 3:9), “those who do not love their brothers and sisters” (1 John 3:10). Here John switched to the singular: “who sees a brother or sister in need” (v. 17). It’s impossible to demonstrate practical love to “the world” in general. Loving that one person God puts on your heart, on the other hand, is very doable.
3. Refuses to help. I love the way the Greek text phrases this. The NRSV reads, “yet refuses help.” The text is literally, “shuts his splanchna“. Splanchna are guts. When Judas killed himself (in the Acts 1:18 account), his splanchna are what spilled out of his belly. John chose a graphic metaphor: how can the love of God abide in anyone who has the world’s goods, sees the need in a brother or sister, yet closes their inner being to the need. It sounds like a good description of what I do sometimes when a World Vision commercial airs.

So why do we shut our guts up? Why do we close our heart and refuse to help when we have the means and see the need? Let me suggest a few reasons:

• Good old-fashioned selfishness. We like nice things. If we give the worlds goods to others, we can buy less nice things. It’s as simple as that.
• We don’t know where to start. This has plagued me in the past. The need is so great in the world, where on earth can we begin? John’s shift to the singular helps. I’m not called to save the world—that’s Jesus’ job. I’m called to help my neighbour. Singular. Pick someone and make a difference.
• We’re cynical with aid organizations. It’s healthy to have a bit of wise skepticism when dealing with humanitarian aid organizations. No one and no system is immune to temptation and abuse. The problem is when we let our skepticism paralyse us. Yes there are abuses. Consider that a challenge: do your research and give accordingly. Better yet, give your “world’s goods” to those who need them directly. Sure, you will not get a tax receipt, but since when did Christ and Caesar get along so comfortably anyway? When Jesus was questioned about taxes, he caught a fish with some money in its mouth (his way of mocking the no-god of Mammon).
• Bad theology. There’s a whole world of health-wealth nonsense out there that tries to appropriate the corporate promises to Israel selfishly and individualistically. We don’t need to be blessed financially: we are already blessed. Our job, if we claim to have God’s love living inside us, is to be a blessing to our neighbour.
• Fear. For being a no-god, Mammon sure looms large in our lives. We fear not having enough money to send our kids to school. We fear not having enough money saved for retirement. We fear the compound interest of credit card debt. We fear the bank’s control of our house. I follow Martin Luther’s council, so wisely quoted in the epigraph to C. S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters, “The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn.” Thus my Five Billion dollar bill.

. . .

To sum these verses up, “all talk, no action” is not a Christian way to live. Look at God’s speech. He spoke and the word flashed into existence. His speech is more than just sound waves vibrating through air: his speech is action. For God, to speak is to act. It’s only us creatures that have divorced the two.

We can say that we love our neighbour but unless that speech is reinforced with action, it has all the beauty of “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” (1 Corinthians 13:1 NRSV). In fact, all-talk-no-action actually undermines the talk itself. I can tell my neighbour who has run out of money before the end-of-the-month cheque arrives, “I love you” until I’m blue in the face. Until I invite him over for a meal, my words are worthless.

< 1 John 3:14-16 | Let the Evidence Speak

1 John 3:19-22 | A Clean Conscience >

Have you ever taken a personality test? A few years ago I went through the Birkman system. After completing a series of seemingly unending questions about all aspects of my life, the results were fed into a machine. A few weeks later the Birkman representative debriefed myself and the rest of the staff on the details of our personalities.

In was an interesting but unsurprising day. I suspected a lot of the results ahead of time. I knew from my love to study that I was a teacher at heart. I knew from my love of music that I was creative in nature. Some people, however, were surprised. They thought they knew themselves, but the test showed them something different.

How well do you know yourself? Does the evidence of your life confirm the way you understand your own personality?

In today’s passage, John challenges us to examine the evidence of our lives.

. . .

It’s difficult to read a familiar text like this without importing years-worth of teaching and presuppositions. Here’s one we’ll need to tackle: the idea that “eternal” life means post-death life. I was raised with the idea that eternal life is a future benefit of being a Christian. Read 1 John 3:14-16 carefully, though, and you’ll that eternal life is very current.

We have eternal life in us now when we love each other. Kruse puts it this way:

Eternal life is not an unending extension of life as we know it; rather, it is ‘having’ the Son, Jesus Christ, for eternal life is all tied up in him. (136)

This is nothing new for John. If you flip back to his gospel, you find these words on Jesus’ lips:

Anyone who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life, and does not come under judgment, but has passed from death to life. (John 5:24 NRSV)

The passage from death to life isn’t something we need to wait for—it’s already happened. The criteria Jesus gave was simple: hear and believe. John distilled the message even more: love. Love like Jesus.

. . .

When we love people like Jesus loved people, it’s evidence for us that we have passed into God’s Kingdom. “For us” is an important detail. We already know that our love for each other is witness to the world (“Everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35, NRSV).) Now we find that love for each other is a confirmation to ourselves that we’re in the right kingdom. Like the Birkman test asked me about the evidence of my life to determine the broad strokes of my personality and aptitudes, the simple love test reveals which kingdom I’m truly a part of.

Have you ever questioned your salvation? Have you ever wrestled with God’s forgiveness? Take a look at your life: do you love? Loving each other is sure evidence that we’ve passed out of death into life.

So what does this love look like? John’s going to share the practical aspects of it soon, but surely it must include a desire to spend time with each other. Stott says it well:

The authentic followers of Jesus Christ, who have ‘passed from death to live’, hunger for Christian fellowship. (145)

I used to defend people’s Christian freedom to sleep in on Sundays and not worry about the legalism of church attendance (which must sound odd coming from a pastor). Now, I can’t understand why we wouldn’t want to get together to worship. In a sense, both positions were biblically correct—but which one’s more godly?

. . .

A few verses ago, we looked at Cain’s fratricide. Here, John sets up Christ as the opposite (the ‘anti-Cain’):

• Cain’s hatred led to murder.
• Jesus’ love led to self-sacrifice.

Jesus spoke in stark terms: “if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment” (Matthew 5:22 NRSV). Those words resonate behind the text we’re reading today. We have a choice to make. We can either follow Jesus’ example and lay our lives down for each other, or follow Cain and allow anger to rule. Whether or not that anger develops into something further is not the point. What matters is who we are following.

So here’s where the text gets convicting. There are people in this world that I’d lay my life down for: my sons, my wife. Once I leave that small circle, things get more difficult. Would I be willing to die for that church member whose unending stories drive me to boredom each week? What about the so-called “Christian” who ripped me off in a business transaction?

I suppose none of us know how we’ll react until we’re put in such a situation. What we can do now is pray that God will change our hearts toward the people around us.

Actually, we can do more than just pray … but that’s the next verse.

< 1 John 3:11-13 | Cain’s Legacy

1 John 3:17-18 | All Talk No Action? >

image by Nick in exsilio

In a lamp-lit room after a ceremonial meal and a few glasses of wine, Jesus spilled his heart to his disciples. There was an awkward tension in the room. Jesus was troubled, and sent Judas away. The remaining eleven were not sure why he left, but they knew that something didn’t feel right. Jesus took this opportunity to share some final teaching with his disciples. Central in the teaching that followed that evening’s meal was the call to love each other:

This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. . . . I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another. (John 15:12-13, 17 NRSV)

Immediately after that, Jesus directed his disciples to a darker topic, but one that flowed naturally from the command to love:

If the world hates you, be aware that it hated me before it hated you. If you belonged to the world, the world would love you as its own. Because you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world—therefore the world hates you. (John 15:18-19 NRSV)

Decades later, near the end of John’s life, he remembered this teaching, and reminded his followers of it. You are commanded to love, and the world will hate you for it.

. . .

John used the example of Cain to make his point. For John, Cain was a prototype of the world. What do we know about Cain?

His story is told in Genesis 4. Cain was the firstborn, a simple gardener, while his little brother Abel was a shepherd. Both the brothers brought God an offering from their own trade: Cain brought produce and Abel brought some choice cuts of meat. For some reason, God favoured Abel’s meat, but rejected Cain’s produce.

Knowing Cain’s heart, God both encouraged and warned him: If you do what’s right you will be accepted; if you don’t do what’s right, sin’s ready to pounce on you. Cain made his decision. He convinced his younger brother to follow him into the field where he mercilessly slaughtered him. The word John used when recalling this event can be translated “butchered”. How ironic: the farmer butchers the shepherd.

There’s more to the story, but that’s enough for our purposes.

The Genesis text doesn’t say why Cain’s offering was rejected. Some people think it’s because he didn’t offer meat. However, at this time God had not given any explicit requirements for acceptable sacrifices. The text does mention that Abel brought the best of his flock—maybe Cain brought produce from the 50% off reduced-for-quick-sale rack.  We don’t know.

Other people think the tale serves an etiological function: Cain becomes the prototype of urban life who through agricultural advances enabled people to settle in close proximity, where Abel represented nomadic life with the flocks. In this interpretation, God rejected Cain’s offering because he didn’t want humanity to become urbanized.

Although the reason his offering was rejected is unknown, we do know that commentators throughout history have unanimously agreed that his his offering was evil. Cain appears three times in the New Testament as an example of evil:

1. “By faith Abel offered to God a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain’s.” (Hebrews 11:4 NRSV)
2. “Woe to them [false teachers]! For they go the way of Cain.” (Jude 11 NRSV)
3. “We must not be like Cain who was from the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his own deeds were evil and his brother’s righteous.” (1 John 3:12-13 NRSV)

. . .

Cain is the archetype of the world. Cain’s crime was the ultimate injustice. Justice is a righteous person punishing the unrighteous. Cain’s crime flipped the equation: it was the evil in Cain that made him jealous of the goodness in Abel. John warns us not to be like Cain.

Most of us, after reading John’s words, put ourselves on the side of Abel: we’re the righteous believers whom the world hates. While there is an element of truth in that interpretation, John calls us to question whether or not we play the role of Cain ourselves! We know that since the Sermon on the Mount crimes like murder are radically reinterpreted. Do we harbor resentment against people who are successful in areas where we fail? Do we smugly label people “holier than thou” when in epithet really does fit?

The backlash against Bono comes to mind. Many people resent him for using his fame to try to influence world politics and to come to the aid of the poor. Is that a fair criticism, or does the backlash come from the convicted consciences of people who know they’re not doing what they should in the face of global poverty? It’s easier to criticize than to confess.

Jesus warned his followers that the world would hate them because they’re not of the world: they love each other. Does the world hate us anymore? Do we love?

< 1 John 3:8-10 | The Origin of Sin

1 John 3:14-16 | Let the Evidence Speak >

image by Thomas Hawk

“The Devil made me do it!”

Flip Wilson popularized that phrase in his comedy routines.  Here’s a good example from, “The Devil Made Me Buy This Dress”:

While some people just blame everything on the devil to avoid taking responsibility for their actions (it is a pretty convenient excuse), there is a serious truth behind it. In this week’s passage from 1 John, John reminds his readers that the origin of sin is the devil.

. . .

Introductory phrase: everyone who commits sin is a child of the devil.

John came out with all guns blazing. There’s nothing like calling someone a son of the devil to raise the tension in the room!  Yet that’s what John’s logic demands.  Every person is either a child of the devil (i.e. enslaved to sin) or someone with God’s seed in him or her, unable to sin. We’ll look at the contradiction in this a little further down.

For now, the stakes are set for John’s argument. If you sin, you’re a child of the devil.

. . .

Theme: the devil has been sinning from the beginning.

Here’s the logic behind John’s bold initial phrase. The devil is the origin of sin. He’s been sinning from the beginning, which implies a constant and habitual character trait. If your life looks the same as the devil’s life, then whose child are you?

Do you remember when Luke Skywalker screamed to Darth Vader: “You’re not my Father”! It was a logical conclusion. How could he, a good boy, be the son of someone whose very character is evil? John made much the same statement here. Who do you take after? When people look at you and I and say, “he’s just like his father”, which father are they referring to?

. . .

Purpose of Christ’s Appearing: to destroy the works of the devil.

Here’s a great Christological verse. One of the reasons Jesus appeared (remember this key word?) was to destroy the works of the devil. While there are many reasons why Jesus appeared (to redeem us, to show us the father’s love, etc.), his decisive win over Satan’s works was one of the key elements of his mission.

It’s important to note that the devil’s “works” are plural. They are manifold. Satan is not a one-trick-pony—he can take a variety of forms. When I chose the image for this post, I settled on the print of a business man in devil’s horns to emphasize this point.

. . .

Logical Conclusion: no one born of God will continue to sin because God’s seed is in them.

There are two very direct statements in verse 9 (NRSV):

1. Those born of God “do not sin”.
2. Those born of God “cannot sin”.

Compare these two statements to the liberating statement in 1:8: “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us”, and we run into a bit of a problem.  Which is it? Can believers sin or not?

Stott lists seven different ways in which theologians have tried to work around this contradiction. Only two of them seem to be worth considering for me:

First, many people find comfort in grammar: the tense of the verbs. The two statements in v. 9 both carry the sense of “continue on sinning”. It’s comforting to think that while John knew that we all sin, he also believed that it couldn’t be a habitual thing for believers. To be honest, I’ve always believed that explanation. However, Kruse has something important to say about it:

The use of the present tense says nothing about the habitual or nonhabitual character of the sinning, but only shows that the author has chosen to depict the sinning as something in progress, rather than as a complete action.

The second helpful way of explaining this contradiction is to believe that John is addressing two different problems. Ancient Gnostic philosophy took many practical forms. Some people believed that since they had the divine spark of knowledge within them, they were beyond sin. Thus, John responded with 1:8. Other Gnostics believed that since they had the divine spark of knowledge within them, what they did with their bodies didn’t matter. Thus John replied with 3:9.

In the end, it’s difficult to understand exactly how John would have reconciled these two divergent thoughts. What is clear is that we’re to confess our sins, and attempt—with the help of God—to cease from sinning.

< 1 John 3:4-7 | The Nature of Sin

1 John 3:11-13 | Cain’s Legacy >

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I love the depth and shock-value of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Can you imagine what it would have been like to hear these words for the first time?

• You’ve heard don’t murder—I say if you’re angry with someone you’ve already committed it.
• You’ve heard don’t commit adultery—I say if you’ve lusted after someone, you’ve already committed it.
• You’ve heard you can get a divorce for any reason—I say nothing but unchastity can break the marriage union.
• You’ve heard: don’t swear falsely—I say don’t make any oaths at all.
• You’ve heard love your neighbour and hate your enemy—I say be perfect.

Ouch. I wonder how many people in the crowd quit following Jesus that day?

Today’s section of John takes a serious look at sin-as-lawlessness. It may not be easy medicine to take, but it’s necessary.

1 John 3:4-10 consists of two sections which follow the same format.  We’ll look at the first section today—the nature of sin.  Next week we’ll look at the origin of sin in vv. 8-10. Both of these sections have four parts to them, as we’ll see below.

. . .

Introductory Phrase: everyone who commits sin.

There’s some comfort here for me.  The phrase “everyone who commits sin” reminds me that everyone does commit sin.  We sinners find ourselves in good company: Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, Solomon, and on throughout the centuries. In fact, the only person who didn’t commit sin is Jesus—our role model.

That passage from earlier in John’s letter comes to mind:

If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us. (1:8-9 NRSV)

. . .

Theme: sin is lawlessness.

There are a number of words in Scripture that describe sin. One of the most popular words in the New Testament means, “missing the mark”.  Another word for sin is translated “unrighteousness”.  Here, John uses a relatively rare term for sin: lawlessness.

What an apt description. Sin is rebelling against the authority of our Lord. Lawlessness.

It’s important to note that John is not using this in a legalistic sense: he’s not saying that we need to keep the letter of the law that God revealed on Sinai. Jesus redefined that—as passages like the Sermon on the Mount make very clear. John understands the depth of what Jesus did for us—the freedom he provided. Sin, in John’s mind, is rebelling against the plan Jesus has for us.

Of course, this makes it difficult to come up with an itemized list of sins we should avoid, since God speaks to each one of us through his Spirit. The love of God will drive us to know his will through a continual and deepening relationship with his Spirit.

. . .

Purpose of Christ’s Appearing: to take away sins.

This John wasn’t the first to realize Jesus’ purpose. Hear the words of John the Baptist:

Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! (John 1:29 NRSV)

This post was published the week before Christmas. It’s a time when we celebrate Jesus’ first appearing—precisely what John is referring to here. He revealed himself to us in order to take away the sins of the world while remaining perfectly pure and sinless himself. While there are many passages of Scripture that refer to this truth, a section of 1 Peter gets to the heart of this paradox:

1. Jesus took our sins: “You know that you were ransomed . . .” (2:18 NRSV)
2. Jesus is without sin: “like that of a lamb without blemish” (2:19 NRSV)

Why did John remind his people of this?  Read on . . .

. . .

Logical Conclusion: no one who abides in him sins.

John felt so strongly about this conclusion, he stated it in two ways: positively and negatively:

1. Negatively: “No one who abides in him sins” (v. 6 NRSV)
2. Positively: “Everyone who does what is right is righteous” (v. 7 NRSV)

Like Jesus’ listeners when he taught the Sermon on the Mount, it’s easy to look at this and doubt your salvation or even your ability to follow Jesus at all. John felt so passionately about the need to avoid sin, he stated it as starkly as possible. However, there are two clues that make this easier to grasp.

1. The tense of the words “sins” and “remains” in v. 6 are present, which implies that these are ongoing acts.  It would be better to say that no one who abides in Jesus continues to persist in sinning.
2. The word “abide” also gives us a clue. John’s not speaking here about a one-time salvation experience. The word abide speaks of an ongoing relationship.

. . .

The point of this paragraph is plain and simple. While teaching about the details of the passage may help us understand the specifics of it all, it’s impossible to miss the main point:

Jesus died for all of us, to take away our sins—if we persist in rebelling against his will, we’re proving that we don’t abide in him. If we do what’s right, though, we become just like him.

< 1 John 3:1-3 | God’s Children

1 John 3:8-10: The Origin of Sin >

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Last Sunday was unique. It happens only once every year in my tradition. Since it was the second Sunday of Advent, we sang carols and took time to remember the birth of Jesus. Since it was the first Sunday of the month, we celebrated the Lord’s Supper, and took time to remember his death. Birth and death, powerfully juxtaposed in one service.

We meditated on the profound humility and love of God.  Which do you think demonstrated his love and humility more—that Jesus died for us, or that he emptied himself and was born as a human?

When I turned to this week’s devotional text, I found another truth that demonstrates the love and humility of God even further: he calls us his children.

In this devotion, we’ll look at the profound depth of God’s love, the great revealing, and the purpose of it all.

. . .

The profound depth of God’s love.

Stott says it well. God’s love is not simply shown or demonstrated, but “lavished on us”. You can hear the amazement in John’s words: he points it out twice:

See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. (v. 1 NRSV, emphasis mine)

It seems like John got to the end of his thought and in further amazement blurted out: “that is what we are”!

Stewart Townend’s “How Deep the Father’s Love For Us” captured this profound truth in music.

What love.

. . .

The great revealing.

I love John’s honesty in verse 2: “what we will be has not yet been revealed” (NRSV).  If only us modern preachers would have a hint of that honesty about us when we talk about the end times! Somethings just are just not known to us yet.

But other things are.

Although God hasn’t revealed precisely what we will be like, we do know a few powerful truths:

1. We are God’s children now
2. Jesus will be revealed in the future
3. When Jesus is revealed, we will be like him as we see him

That’s more than enough revelation to live on. Here Bultmann on the third point:

In 2 Cor 3:18 it is said that the vision of the glorified one transfigures those beholding into glorified ones.

Here’s the text from 2 Corinthians that Bultmann refers to:

All of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. (2 Corinthians 3:18 NRSV)

Moses comes to mind when I consider this. When he returned from spending time with God on Mt. Sinai, his face shone so greatly that it startled people. Simply observing God will transform us into his likeness.

. . .

The purpose of it all.

This transformation into his likeness has already begun for believers. While the physical metamorphosis into the likeness of Christ will have to wait, the moral and ethical transformation has already begun.

The reason John spent this time sharing about the coming revelation of Jesus was not so we could meditate on the theology, as sublime as it is. The purpose of it all is to motivate his church to continue traveling down the long road of sanctification. Since we’ll be like him completely one day, why not further the process now?

This emphasis recalls 2:28, when John reminded his people to do right because God is righteous. In fact, the verses we looked at today are book-ended by these two exhortations to conform our lives to Jesus.

Let’s anticipate that full revealing today.

< 1 John 2:29 | Sharing the Father’s Nature

1 John 3:4-7 | The Nature of Sin >

image by Jason Nelson

George MacDonald is one of my all-time favourite authors.  I became hooked on him when I realized the esteem C. S. Lewis held for him.  I read Lilith and Phantastes a number of times, not quite comprehending the depths of them yet feeling strangely moved. Next, I read a biography and plowed through his three volumes of Unspoken Sermons: Series I, II, III.  After realizing he wrote poetry, I read through his Diary of an Old Soul: 366 Writings for Devotional Reflection. Two nights ago I started reading Ranald Bannerman’s Boyhood. (You can find the full text of this novel here.)

Ranald is a children’s book, but as George himself says, “Some such readers, in virtue of their hearts being young and old both at once, discern more in the children’s books than the children themselves.” Let me recount an episode from this children’s novel that should speak to young and old hearts alike.

Ranald became friends with the wrong type of boy in school. Ranald was raised as a Christian, but was swayed by the example of Peter Mason. At the height of his depravity, he impulsively threw a snowball at the back of a young girl’s head.  Reveling in his depravity, he laughed.

Following that, he and Peter tied the door of a grumpy old woman’s house shut.  They proceed to light a stalk of cabbage filled with tow (and some other vile ingredients), and blew the smoke through the keyhole of the old woman’s house.  The woman raised quite a fuss until she fell down from smoke inhalation.  With the granddaughter screaming for help, they untied the door and Ranald was exposed. From that point on his conscience tormented him.

The following Sunday evening, just before bed, his Father read the story of the prodigal son to Ranald and his brothers. Ranald was so overcome by guilt that he confessed everything. His father received him back, and they set out to make amends in town.

It’s the Father’s words that will illuminate our text from 1 John:

“We’ve done a wrong, a very grievous wrong, my boy, and I cannot rest till I at least know the consequences of it.”

He put on his long greatcoat and muffler in haste, and having seen that I too was properly wrapped up, he opened the door and stepped out. . . .

“Papa,” I said, “why did you say we have done a wrong? You did not do it.”

“My dear boy, persons who are so near each other as we are, must not only bear the consequences together of any wrong done by one of them, but must, in a sense, bear each other’s iniquities even. If I sin, you must suffer; if you sin, you being my own boy, I must suffer. But this is not all: it lies upon both of us to do what we can to get rid of the wrong done; and thus we have to bear each other’s sin. I am accountable to make amends as far as I can; and also to do what I can to get you to be sorry and make amends as far as you can.”

In essence, the the son and the father share each other’s nature.

. . .

What MacDonald described in a negative way—the father taking the blame for the son’s actions—John states positively. If we share in the divine nature (if we are “born of him”), then we will do right since the Father is righteous.

I should mention that there has been an abrupt shift in focus between verse 28 and 29.  Verse 29 clearly refers to Jesus who will be revealed some time in the future. Verse 29 speaks of being “born of him”.  While context might suggest “him” is Jesus, all throughout scripture children are born of the Father. It is most likely the Father that John had in mind here.

. . .

Being “born again” has taken on some radical fundamentalist associations in Western society. Often people avoid speaking of salvation in that way, since it has come to mean something other than what God intended. John’s gospel sheds a little light on what it truly means to be born again:

But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. (John 1:12-13 NRSV)

No one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. (John 3:5-6 NRSV)

The word for Spirit, both in Greek and in Hebrew, can be translated in three ways: breath, wind, spirit. Jesus continues in John 3 to say that the wind blows where it will, essentially overlapping the concept of Spirit and wind. Bruce Cockburn was quite theologically accurate when he wrote, “I’ll be a child of the wind ’till the end of my days”.

. . .

It’s important to remember that John is not imposing some sort of works-righteousness on his congregation. Far from it. As Stott observed:

A person’s righteousness is thus the evidence of his new birth, not the cause or condition of it.

Being “born again”, or “a child of the wind”, however you prefer to refer to it, is a two way street. In one sense, the Father via Jesus takes our sin on himself and eradicates it. This is what Ranald experienced in part with his earthly father. On the other hand, we are called to do what is right, since righteousness is one of the chief attributes of our Father.

< 1 John 2:28 | Put to Shame?

1 John 3:1-3 | God’s Children >