1 John 4:1–6

Original Meaning

Dangerous Prophet-Teachers (4:1)

WE HAVE SEEN suggestions throughout this letter that the schism that had John’s community in its grip was being fueled by false teachers (e.g., 2:22–23). Now we learn that they are pneumatics, teachers claiming that their words are inspired by the Spirit of God. In verse 1, John calls them “prophets” because technically a prophet is the mouthpiece of some spirit.2 And as John acknowledges, among those who call themselves prophets, there are many frauds (cf. Matt. 7:15; Mark 13:22; Acts 20:28–30; 2 Peter 2:1).

It is important to pause and gain some appreciation for this problem in the early church. House churches were isolated in cities throughout the Roman empire. In the early years there were few formal creeds (such as the later Creed of Nicea) to give doctrinal guidance, nor were the Scriptures available as we have them today. No one owned a “New Testament,” and at best the early Christians only had random collections of letters from the apostles and collections of stories about Jesus. Therefore oral communication was essential. Churches relied on emissaries from their leaders, who relayed information from other communities and taught. Paul sent out Timothy and Silas in this capacity, and John sent out elders as his spokespersons (3 John 5).

But problems came when prophets or teachers arrived claiming an authority that was not rightfully theirs. Paul had to address the problem of unauthorized teachers in Galatia and Thessalonica. Because some churches received false letters (see 2 Thess. 2:2), he even decided to sign his correspondence with recognizable markings (Gal. 6:11; Col. 4:18; 2 Thess. 3:17). This phenomenon meant that churches could fall prey to unscrupulous itinerant prophets and teachers, and John’s churches were no exception (cf. 2 John 7). Consequently, Christians had to be ready to assess the message they heard and the spirit that inspired it.

Bridging Contexts

JOHN’S COMMAND THAT we “test the spirits” is apt for our generation since there are so many competing claims to religious truth today. Cults, sects, and new religious movements abound. There are even countless house churches led by untrained teachers whose theological acumen and spiritual maturity are dubious. In a city of forty thousand near me, one study conducted by Wheaton College’s graduate school found dozens of these religious communities recruiting members all around the city’s major congregations, and the pastors were virtually unaware of what was happening.

But there is a difficult twist here as well. Our society prizes religious tolerance and pluralism to such a degree that many of us have begun to believe that such “testing” betrays a narrowness of vision that is overly critical, even judgmental. In 1994 a number of mainline churches sponsored a conference called “Reimaging God,” in which pagan worship forms were embraced and traditional orthodox teachings were openly attacked. To “test the spirits” today will take considerable discernment and not a little courage. Nevertheless, John’s command is clear: Such testing is the responsibility of every generation.

Bridging this text to the contemporary scene obligates me to ask how this testing should take place. John’s two tests, incarnational Christology and the response of the world, were designed for a particular historical context. In some cases those tests may be useful for us, but it is an open question whether they serve as a universal arbiter in questions of orthodoxy. For instance, some doctrinal errors would pass John’s test. Mormons, for instance, agree that Jesus was human and divine, but his divinity was not unique to him. Harold Camping, the prophet who announced on his thirty-nine radio stations that Christ would return to earth in September 1994, likewise passes the test, even though his abuses to reasonable interpretative methods are well known.9 As John Walvoord, former president of Dallas Seminary, remarked, Camping is “practicing a method of interpretation that no one else recognizes.” New questions therefore have to be written in each generation to address theological challenges as they come along.

Because John’s tests are limited to one historical setting, they also tend to be limited in scope. Other essential beliefs about Jesus that go beyond his incarnation, such as his miraculous powers, his resurrection, and his second coming, might be included in other circumstances. John mentions none of these because they were not issues sharply defining fidelity to the apostolic witness in his circumstances.

Each generation, then, must forge its beliefs, anchored to the doctrines laid out in the Scriptures with an eye on the contemporary challenges the church must confront. A quick look at the past illustrates how this has been done already. The historic Christian creeds (Nicea, Chalcedon) did precisely this: They formulated statements of faith on matters essential to their time and place. Each age has every imagined heresy, and it is the responsibility of every generation’s leadership to rise up and confront gross departures from the truth. In our century, the Barmen Declaration (1934) was written by German Christians to reject the Nazi claim that God was at work in the nationalistic aspirations of the Third Reich and that the government could therefore make a divine claim for obedience. Other more recent generations have felt called to clarify questions of biblical authority, sexuality, and social justice. One ought not give timeless guidance here for no one can predict what “the spirits” will say to each generation. We must simply be ready, as the Johannine Christians were, to confront wrong thinking and willful unbelief.

But perhaps this is where I worry most. Among the students I teach I find that most of them are eager to tell how they feel about a particular question, but few of them are capable of giving a coherent, objective, carefully reasoned argument for or against it. The same is true among adults in the church, where adult education programs, rather than equipping men and women to “test the spirits” of their day, help them cope with feelings they have in the crises of their lives. Both are important, but one is sorely neglected.

The Johannine call here is to build a Christian maturity that can use theological radar to spot intruders who want to upend the church’s beliefs. This is high-tech radar that can tell the difference between pleasure aircraft and lethal bombers, between minor issues and colossal errors that deserve a fierce struggle.

Contemporary Significance

THE SPIRITUAL LANDSCAPE is no less confusing today than it was for John two thousand years ago. Challenges to the gospel and the flourishing of new religious movements seem commonplace. And in some cases the church has endorsed their growth. A Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) presbytery in Missouri recently sent $41,000 from its church-wide benevolence offering to a local Muslim school “to aid the poor and oppressed.” Yet does not such charity advance the theological mission of a faith that denies Christ and directly competes with the church? One Presbyterian pastor, Alan Krummenacher, defended the grant as “a bridge for understanding and cooperation.”10 Such examples as this abound. Otherwise splendid overtures of Christian generosity become confused with the ultimate mission of the church.

Therefore the discernment John encourages must become a vigorous part of every congregation’s ministry. Nevertheless, there are difficulties and challenges to its application. We must know where to apply it and how narrowly.

(1) The church is called to be the custodian of the truth. When John says that we must “test the spirits,” he is addressing the corporate body of Christ. Throughout 4:1–6 his verbs are plural (“together all of you test the spirits”), implying that this spiritual discernment is an obligation of the gathered body and its leadership. Therefore, it is not simply permissible but is incumbent on the church to weigh what is being taught within its ranks. National bodies and local congregations must evaluate everything from curricula to Sunday school teachers.

In some instances this has made many uncomfortable, especially when it leads to a struggle at the denominational level or even within a local parish. As one person put it, “The church should be loving and accepting, not critical.” This is correct. Our custodianship should not make us so harshly critical that we disqualify every different point of view in a congregation. On the other hand, we cannot be negligent either. We cannot accept all things in the interest of accepting all people.

But as soon as I say this, another question haunts me: How do I cultivate a discerning spirit without becoming cynical? This is a practical question implicit in John’s command for discernment. Unfortunately, John’s letter does not address it. There is a sickness that lurks behind this worthy command: It can make me unteachable. Soon I am weighing the words of everyone—including my pastor—and I alone become my own arbiter of truth. No doubt John’s interest in the importance of the gathered community—the church—is a signal reminder to us. The church is the custodian of the truth, and my impulse to critique, to analyze, or to judge must be worked out in the community of the church’s leadership. My voice, which by itself sounds righteous and orthodox, may sound different when heard by other thoughtful leaders. This calls for a humility and courage that is willing to submit to the corporate voice while still retaining its passion and vision.

(2) The centrality of Christology. John affirms a delicate balance throughout his writings between the humanity and the divinity of Christ. He will compromise on neither. I wonder if this same concern is alive in our church today. I frequently force my students to think carefully about the coherence of Christian theology by neglecting one of Christ’s two dimensions. If he were not fully human, what would this mean for our confidence in his revelation of the Father? How would it affect his work on the cross or his return to the Father? If he were not fully divine, what would this mean for these same categories?

I remember with great fondness and appreciation a seminary professor at Fuller Seminary speaking passionately to us about the delicate balance of Athanasian Christology.11 Such a balance between humanity and divinity—its symmetry—is the distinctive feature of Christian thought. Today my students barely know that it is Athanasius they are hearing. John wants us to cultivate such an instinct. He wants us to feel it intuitively when Christological symmetry is broken by accident or heresy.

(3) How do we unmask false teachers? John warns us that false prophets/teachers may lay siege to the church, but he gives us little direction about how to do this or what to do with these teachers when they are uncovered. He has at least two concerns: (a) False teachers should not have access to the church as a platform for their teachings, and (b) people should not be deceived by what they hear in the church. This means at least that the church should be a spiritual refuge where experimental teachings or controversial points of view are checked. Practically speaking, when I send my daughters to Sunday school, I deserve the assurance that the teacher in the class is not there simply because she is the only one who volunteered. The church must guarantee that those who teach are theologically and spiritually qualified to do so.

The danger of unmasking false teachers is that the community of Christ may become unduly intolerant of diverse points of view. Individuals may see themselves as commissioned to flush out those whose outlooks differ. This is not what John has in mind. He desires that the leadership of the church prohibit any from leading who might undermine the heart and soul of the Christian faith.

(4) Where or who are these spirits today? Throughout this passage John tells us to test the spirits. If John’s outlook is dualistic (see above), I have to be ready to test for genuine spiritual forces in my community. To be candid, I have to admit to the possibility of demonic influence among those who want to sabotage the church. John does not tell us about spiritual warfare as Paul does, but as I noted in the introduction, there is ample evidence to suggest that he led a “charismatic” or pneumatic community. The spiritual warfare described in Ephesians 6 was no doubt familiar to him. John thus wants us equipped for spiritual battle. Does this mean discerning spirits? And does it also mean deliverance and exorcism?

Many of us recoil from the thought that such fantastic ministries should be a part of the church’s work. But they must be. Today Christians who have grown up in the wake of the charismatic renewal are comfortable and look for a pastoral ministry that “encounters” spiritual forces. Twenty-five years ago young people would have scoffed at the idea of the demonic, but no more. I recently spent a day with a friend who is the chaplain aboard one of the Navy’s newest guided missile cruisers. He told me of the many faith groups in the ship’s crew of four hundred. There were Jews, Catholics, high church Protestants, Mormons—everything, including Satan worshipers. This ship is a cross section of the world and its willingness to flirt openly with the demonic.

I met a young Presbyterian pastor and his wife during a conference in Michigan where I was speaking. In our conversation they spoke late into the evening about his first pastorate in Florida. Early one morning on his first week he entered the darkened church only to see demonic spirit-apparitions that had been witnessed by many others. This spirit-encounter required a ministry to deliver this church from its bondage.12 This is, of course, a highly unusual situation. But other destructive spirits need to be named and confronted in our churches—spirits bringing illnesses, sin, and destruction to Christ’s body. It is not eccentric to hold such a view. Any Christian cosmology that posits a personal God and angels should also have room for a personal devil and his cohorts. I shared these stories with a Hispanic pastor from south Texas, who smiled and said, “Our communities have known about these realities all along.”

Others have pursued a more basic application. Perhaps this “spirit” is something wider, something more universal. These may be the forces that shape me and my community for better or for ill. Some are certainly demonic; some are simply the spirit of the age in which I live. These latter spirits require discernment lest I become victimized by voices that have more to do with the world and its passions than with Jesus Christ. I referred earlier to Jacques Ellul’s book The New Demons,13 where he describes tendencies of thought and behavior that are inflicting our age with dreadful spiritual diseases. Many others are sounding the same alarm. The great irony is that Christians, who have a theology that should equip them to sift the impulses of the world, do it least, whereas unbelievers, who have no such theology, are leading the way in describing the moral bankruptcy and general wretchedness of our day.

In 1993 David Wells’s award-winning book, No Place for Truth, set out to diagnose what has been happening to the modernity of the West—and it makes grim reading.14 The “new demons” he describes have created a decaying intellectual environment that has no use for truth, no interest in a transcendent God, and indeed no way to conceptualize any notion of revelation. That God would become human in Christ is not simply rejected (as had been done in liberalism), but now is incomprehensible. What has evolved is a new pagan mind. Lesslie Newbigin makes the same point in his Foolishness to the Greeks.15 This author describes how the basic conceptual categories that lie behind Christian thought cannot be presupposed any longer.

Are destructive spirits at work in the world? In the church? There can be no doubt that they are. The church must be equipped to combat all forms of evil, along with its gritty ugliness in encounter ministry, its wily sophistication in the intellectual currents of the day.

Original Meaning

John’s First Test: What They Say About Jesus (4:2–3)

THIS IS THE only time the Greek word for “testing” (dokimazo) occurs in the Johannine literature, although it occurs often in the New Testament (twenty-two times). It appears in Paul’s letters when he challenges his churches to assess the validity of irregular teachings (see 1 Thess. 5:21; 1 Tim. 3:10). Testing the spirits may refer to a spiritual apprehension, such as Paul’s understanding of the discernment of spirits (1 Cor. 12:10). In this case, John would have in mind charismatic leaders in the congregation who spiritually intuited the authenticity of these prophets’ lives. Just as Jesus could “see” the spiritual bonds of a person before a deliverance—that is, spirit seeing spirit—so the Spirit of God would equip Johannine believers to recognize God’s Spirit in others. On the other hand, John’s thought may be nothing more mysterious than weighing objectively what was being said by these prophets. Perhaps this engaged different gifts in the Johannine church—elders, teachers, and leaders with wisdom and knowledge, who could weigh what was said and compare it with what had been taught previously.

But what should one test for? The Spirit of God always glorifies the Son of God (John 15:26; 16:13–15; 1 Cor. 12:1–3). Thus the first test centers entirely on one’s view of Jesus Christ: “Every spirit that acknowledges Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is of God.”3 We saw earlier in 2:18–22 (as well as 1:1–4) how incarnational Christology was at the heart of this community’s struggles. Behind these words John is urging three things about our belief: (1) that the man Jesus of Nazareth is indeed the divine Word of God; (2) that Jesus Christ was and is fully divine as well as fully human;4 and (3) that Jesus is the sole source of eternal life since he alone reveals the Father to us and atones for our sins.

John sees this confession as central to Christian discipleship. If Jesus, the man from Nazareth, were not our divine Lord, his sacrifice on the cross would have limited importance. If he were not divine, we would have little confidence that the Father had been revealed to us. The nature of discipleship would likewise be placed in question. Our human lives, our ethics, are important because God has deemed our humanity important through the incarnation of his Son.

But note further that this affirmation is not simply a matter of holding a creed. In 4:3 the confession is abbreviated: “confessing Jesus” is John’s real interest.5 He looks for believers to embrace with their words and their hearts the truth of the Incarnation. Smalley comments that this is the “heart of the apostolic gospel,” which requires “a right estimate of [Christ’s] identity (an eternal and an historical humanity) together with a personal acknowledgment of his Lordship.”6 In the New Testament even the demons recognized the fact of the Incarnation (Mark 1:24; 3:11; Acts 19:15), but they did not embrace this truth by confessing Jesus’ lordship. Behind the creed is a person, and it is to this person, Jesus Christ, that John demands our allegiance.

To fail to hold to Christ’s incarnation is to reflect the pernicious “spirit of the antichrist” that lives in the world. Is this simply a spirit of error? Of erroneous human judgments? Or is this spirit demonic? John’s dualism no doubt personified evil, and he viewed those who stood against Jesus Christ as working in league with the devil (2:13; 3:8, 10, 12; 5:18–19). In all five uses of “antichrist” in the Johannine letters, this denial of Jesus Christ is the antichrist’s principal interest (2:18–22; 4:3; 2 John 7).

Marshall points out that the Greek text does not mention “the spirit” when the NIV translates “the spirit of the antichrist” (although it should be supplied grammatically). In this manner John avoids any implicit comparison between the Spirit of God and this so-called spirit.7 It is a point well taken. John speedily assures his readers in verse 4 that the Holy Spirit in them is more powerful than this spirit in the world. John’s spiritual dualism claims that the Spirit of God is unrivaled and that those who reside in the Holy Spirit have no reason to fear.

It is interesting to compare 4:1–3 with 2:18–22. In the first section, having a right relation with the Father leads to a correct view of the Son. In the second, having a right relation with the Spirit leads to a similarly correct view of the Son. In each case the Son is central in all true contacts with God. Jesus Christ is the only point of communication between heaven and earth.