1 John 4:7–5:4

Original Meaning

The Origin of Christian Love (4:7–10)

SIX TIMES IN this letter John employs the personal address “beloved” (NIV, “dear friends”),4 expressing his pastoral, heartfelt concern for the welfare of his followers. The exhortation to love (see also 3:11, 23) he now explains as originating from God himself (4:7a). The coming of Jesus Christ provides a compelling portrait of God’s love for us. This theme—the compelling origin of divine love—weaves its way throughout the section (4:7–11, 16, 19). Thus for John, an exhortation to obedience does not come with a threat. Instead, obedience is encouraged through inspiration. God’s inspiring love, his generous affection, compels us to obey. If he has done this much for us, how can we do less? Genuine love cannot be exhibited in any community unless it reflects God’s love, unless it is empowered by an experience of being loved.

Christians who live out such love are exhibiting much more. They are also giving evidence that they have been born from God and know him (4:7b; cf. 5:4). The first verb is a perfect tense, suggesting that divine rebirth is past, yet bearing fruit in the present. A person once converted now demonstrates the fruit of that conversion. The second verb is a present tense, implying that love is connected to an ongoing awareness of who God is. Why did John select these particular words? Spiritual rebirth and divine knowledge were no doubt promoted among the secessionists (see 3:9). John therefore gives a test of true spiritual maturity that defeats in a stroke his opponents’ spiritual claims; he bases his comments on their unspiritual conduct, that they have been unloving.

John goes on to point out that the reverse is also the case (v. 8). Whoever does not love—in the setting of the Johannine church—cannot possibly know God (also 4:20). Note that the tense of the verb “to know” has changed from the present tense to the aorist (or past) tense. John describes here a person who has never experienced God’s love at any time. No doubt our emphasis should be on the positive character of this principle: Since God is love, those who encounter him have the power to become loving persons.

When verse 8 says “God is love” (cf. v. 16), it is important to note what John is not saying. He is not saying that “God is loving” (though this is true). Nor is he saying that one of God’s activities is “to love” us (though this is true as well). John is saying that God is love, that “all of his activity is loving.”5 Love is the essence of his being. But the reverse is not the case. We cannot say, in other words, that “love is God,” as if any display of affection suddenly qualifies as divine. John is carefully defining the character of who God is and what it means to live in relation to him. To genuinely contemplate the true identity of God is to become like him. A true apprehension of the personhood of God should lead us to change how we live and behave.

In verses 9–10 John carries his theological definition further with words strongly reminiscent of 1 John 3:16, “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us” (cf. John 3:16). The ultimate act of God’s self-revelation is found in his activity in Jesus Christ. The NIV “showed” in verse 9 translates the Greek word phaneroo (lit., “revealed”), a word that refers to the disclosure of things formerly hidden.6 Never before has God done such a thing in history! Christ is the unveiling of God’s heart; he is God, displayed vulnerably before the world.7

These verses offer two developments over 1 John 3:16. (1) God’s love is what initiated the sending of Jesus. We enjoy not only the love of Christ, but also God’s hidden passion for humankind, visibly expressed in Jesus Christ. Thus we should see not only Christ as our ally, working to placate an angry God. It is God himself who loves us—who is devoted to us. As Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5:19, “God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ.”

(2) First John 3:16 describes how Christ surrendered his life for us and how this should inspire our sacrifices for one another. Now John adds that the sending of Jesus, this overture of love, is intended that we might live (v. 9b) and that the penalty for our sins might be covered (v. 10b). “To have life” is a favorite Johannine expression (John 5:25; 6:51, 57, 58; 11:25; 14:19).8 But such life comes about only through forgiveness of sins. This is the second time Jesus’ death is called “an atoning sacrifice” (see discussion on 2:2). This term and its associated verbs and nouns appear only six times in the entire New Testament.9 The Greek word hilasmos describes an act of “removing” an offense (e.g., through sacrifice), which repairs a relationship with God and is often translated “expiation.” Thus, enjoying God’s love has a requirement: the renewal of a broken relationship that can only be accomplished by Jesus Christ.

Bridging Contexts

JOHN’S UNYIELDING INTEREST in love is one well-known hallmark of his letters. Again and again he affirms the importance of love and outlines what might prompt such love. But what inspired such interest? I believe his pastoral context of working in a sorely divided church forced him to ponder deeply how to bring a warring church to unity. Thus, John is doing pastoral theology here, and it is linked entirely to his context of division and controversy. But the question we might ask is whether that context limits the usefulness of his words today. Is it necessary to be in a context of crisis or conflict in order to appreciate John’s words? As I look at these verses and strive to bridge them to my own Christian context, I am forced to ask how contextually “bound” these verses may be.

On the one hand, I can answer that conflict is intrinsic to virtually every Christian setting. This view springs from a realistic appraisal of human fallenness. I do not have to go far in my church, my denomination, or my vocation to find tensions parallel to those in the Johannine community. On the other hand, I note that John responds to this crisis without fixing blame or lodging exhortations for particular sins committed. Rather than diagnose the source of the conflict, he concentrates on the remedy. And the remedy is not merely a hollow demand that Christians love one another; instead, John buttresses the demand to love with a theological affirmation of what makes love possible in the first place. In these verses, John seems quite candid that loving reconciliation is not an easy thing (why else does he give so many reminders?). Therefore, he points the way for men and women to be grounded powerfully in God’s love and then be able to experience a transformation that will affect community life.

This, then, is my bridge. To simply reconstruct John’s struggles for my congregation is to rob the letter of its timeless power. To say that we ought to love one another (while true) says nothing new. But to construct the motive and power that enables love is truly significant. John envisions Christian believers who are so completely healed inwardly that reconciliation within the community is a natural by-product of spiritual maturity.

Contemporary Significance

COLLEGE COMMUNITIES AND churches alike strive to become places of loving reconciliation. The challenge is particularly acute for colleges. At Wheaton College, for example, we have over 2,500 students living together daily, eating meals, attending classes, and pursuing recreational activities. In such a setting the need for Christlike love is pressing. This semester I spoke to the senior class in chapel from Matthew 5:23–25, where Jesus says that if we are worshiping and need to be reconciled to a brother or sister, we should first go, repair the relationship, and then return to the altar. It was a communion service, and I challenged them to interrupt their “time at the altar” (taking bread—but no juice) if they needed to be reconciled to someone. I had no idea what would happen, though there was an abundance of grape juice returned to the chaplain’s office.

The need for loving reconciliation is always with our communities. And the Johannine exhortation to love is apt since our college world (like the world of the church) is constantly beset with undisclosed tensions or rivalries. This is a part of what it means to belong to the human community.

These verses pose a central question: What will trigger righteous conduct? What message, what thought process, what experience will trigger activity that can only be described as charitable, gracious, forgiving, and loving? Certainly there must be some antidote, some solution to conduct that is divisive and unloving.

(1) The grace of God and righteousness. Not long ago I attended a meeting of faculty and administrators who were discussing the problem of legalism in evangelical colleges. The question at hand was rules of conduct—lifestyle standards—and how these affect spiritual development. Curiously, there was a difference of opinion about what would trigger righteous behavior. “The wrath of God has a place in shaping our conduct,” one person contributed. And another: “When God saved Israel in Egypt, the first thing he gave them was the law of Sinai. Law aids our righteousness.” Then we heard a quote from C. S. Lewis (always at the standby for evangelicals!), “Love is that which forgives the most and condones the least” (emphasis his). In a word, many were willing to say that law can trigger righteousness.

Of course, no one would deny a place for the law, for rules of conduct that place limits on behavior. But the deeper question is whether rules can inspire a life of devotion, service, and worship. Moreover, does a framework of law cultivate the sort of reflex to obey that inspires genuine spiritual maturity?

In these verses, John is promoting a community that will exhibit spiritual maturity, that will lift up high virtues of love and share them enthusiastically. John envisions an obedient community that will devote itself to God completely. How does he do it? First John 4:11 is the answer: Righteousness is only triggered in response to the abundant love of God. “Since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” Righteous Christian conduct is fueled by the realization that God has devoted himself to us so exhaustively that we can do nothing other than respond.

Last spring I was explaining to an introductory New Testament class Paul’s view of grace as it appears in Galatians. Paul shares John’s opinion that it was God’s love expressed in Christ that inspires the Christian life. In fact, as Paul argued in Romans 7, law by itself simply triggers rebellion. Then I tried an experiment. I asked all forty students to write a one-page essay analyzing whether their lives had been shaped by the threat of law or the wonder of God’s grace. I was devastated by the results. Over 90 percent of the class admitted privately that the possibility of God’s disfavor and wrath had shaped their Christian outlook since childhood. God’s unending love was not foremost in their minds, but his possible displeasure was. Christianity, they reported, was really about following the rules. When I told them it was not, you could hear a pin drop. Some privately commented that this was the first time they had heard such “good news.”

I do not believe that my student sampling was unusual. These were mature young men and women who came from strong evangelical churches and families. And their reflex was to please God so that he would continue to favor them. They had not learned to please God because he already favored them. Because of this reality many Christians are troubled, and many have a genuine fear of God. The following was written by a 21-year-old student who is a strong, knowledgeable evangelical. Her sentences were submitted in a term paper describing the justice of God.

I feel like God punishes me for sins all of the time. I feel that there is always something I am being punished for. I know that is impossible because there are not enough minutes in the day for God to punish us. I probably should not call it punishment, but that is the way I feel about God’s justice. I know of God’s love and blessings for me and for that I am eternally grateful and thankful. But I live with this fear that one mess-up and I will be punished again.

I am forced to ask, what is happening in the church? In our families? Who has stolen the good news out of the gospel? As a result, I have built into my syllabi numerous points where I emphasize the loving, abundant generosity of God. And this semester (as I write) it happened again: After one such explanation of God’s unmerited love, a mature student told me, “I’ve never heard anything like this before.”

(2) The risk of generous love. An immediate reaction among students—and even some colleagues—is the fear that without some disciplinary threat, without law, such generous love could be exploited. No doubt that is true. I am quite sure that Paul’s opponents in Galatia were saying the same thing. But it is striking that both John and Paul are willing to endure that risk. John is fully aware of this prospect, for he refers to Christians who fail to live up to their calling. However, like Paul, he never resorts to using fear. He never says that failed Christian discipleship loses the love of God. In 4:19 he quickly and decisively points out the hypocrisy of such unresponsive disciples. But he does not threaten them with the abandonment of God.

Neither does Paul. It is safe to say that the Galatians had fallen from Paul’s ideal of discipleship. Yet he exhorts them to “walk in the Spirit” (rather than in the flesh) because it is God who has gifted them so generously (Gal. 5:16–26). Nor does Paul use fear. He underscores the theme of freedom despite the Galatian misbehavior (5:13). And he simply reminds them, “The entire law is summed up in a single command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’ ” (5:14). Fear is not a primary pastoral tool.

John does not use fear as a pastoral strategy because “perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4:18). Whenever our perception of God is shaped by fear and anxiety, worry perhaps over losing his affection, we have not plumbed the depth of his love. We have not experienced his commitment to us. Thus in verse 8 John says it is clear that anyone who does not love another person does not know God because if we have really witnessed God’s love in Christ, we will be changed. Love is the essential character of God’s being (vv. 8, 16). To fail to express love means that we have not met such powerful divine love ourselves.

(3) The question of awe. To imagine God as completely loving runs another risk, that of losing profound respect for him because we have made him too personal, too approachable. Perhaps he becomes a grandparent in our thinking, a wizened relative who is sage and generous. For some, he is a “friend” but hardly a holy, all-powerful Lord.

No doubt this was less of a problem in the first century when audiences with any Jewish heritage held God in high respect. His distance and majesty were commonplace in Jewish spiritual life. His grandeur was primary. Thus when the New Testament speaks of God as a loving Father, there is an emotional scandal presented to the hearer: This great, awesome Lord is also interested in profound intimacy with me? When we reclaim this scandalous tension in our preaching and teaching, when we affirm with abandon that God is holy, powerful, and supreme—and at the same time affirm his shocking intimacy with us—good news is found.

An Arab-Christian in the Middle East put it to me this way: “Our problem is that we do not know what it is to live with an absolute monarch.” The sheiks, sultans, and kings of Saudi Arabia and the Persian Gulf countries often enjoy absolute power.21 With a word they can bring economic ruin to anyone. Some can take life simply with a command. Limitless power (within their domain) is characteristic of their lives. Those living in close proximity to such a sultan know that he can be either their greatest benefactor or their greatest enemy. And to be a child, a prince or princess living in the palace, puts one in a breathtaking place of privilege. You are safe alongside the storm, protected next to the lion. The hand that has slain many blesses you.

When we reclaim the awesomeness and power of God, giving him utmost respect, then his loving-kindness takes on new potency. This is the tension I want my students to feel when they consider the character of God. I want them to feel fear, awe, privilege, and blessing—all at the same moment. This is the good news. The lion’s paw is soft, yet powerful. Its growl is deep and loud, yet it utters my name with affection.

(4) Christian victory and confidence. John raises an interesting series of questions about spiritual confidence and certainty. The chief thrust of his message is to buttress the average Christian’s understanding of God’s love and to build a Christian ethic responsive to it. In 5:4 John talks about a victory that overcomes the world. But many in the church have worked hard to win this victory and still feel inadequate. How often I have seen spiritual fatigue on my students’ faces—fatigue at trying to generate experiences described in the pulpit! What pastoral strategies are available, what other avenues can enhance our perception of God’s presence and shore up our uncertainties? After we announce good news, what then?

John’s first suggestion might center on obedience. If I cannot feel God’s affection, must I await that feeling before I act? Or in the course of my activity, might I experience his love for me anew? I know Christians who have served in desperate situations, and in their serving have tasted for the first time the wonder of divine love. Some have entered urban Chicago to work. Others have gone overseas or worked in our prison system. The point is that they were exhibiting extraordinary love among the loveless, not as a way to make God love them, but as a spiritual exercise, to invigorate their hearts, to touch love itself—because they have felt loveless themselves. Remarkably, loving someone who is unlovely brings into focus the power of God’s choice to love us in our unloveliness.

In our passage, therefore, John is quick to charge his followers again and again with an exhortation to obey the command to love regardless of how they feel. First John 4:21 and 5:3 are clear: Those who choose to love God must also choose to love their brothers and sisters and be obedient. Exhortation blends with encouragement time after time as the apostle weaves the delicate fabric of a theology shaped by unmerited love, all the while expecting obedience.

John’s second suggestion makes many of us uncomfortable. It is mystical. In 4:13 he tells us that “we know” God lives in us and we in him “because he has given us of his Spirit.” This same idea appears in 3:24, “And this is how we know he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us.” John raises this possibility of spiritual reassurance without explaining how it might take place. He assumes that the Holy Spirit is a natural part of his followers’ experience and uses this experience as a means of assuring them.

Of course, this forces us to ask the question: Do we refer to the Holy Spirit as an ambiguous “seal” that was placed on our lives at some remote point (when we were baptized or came to faith)? I have clear memories from when I was a teenager, asking my Lutheran pastor about this “Holy Spirit.” And my firmest memory is that he could only point to my baptism. “Let’s look it up in a concordance,” he said weakly. But by then my confidence had evaporated.

I think John has something else in mind. The power to know God’s love in reality, the power to love others as he loves us, the reassurance that gives us victory over our doubts—these things may come to us through an experience mediated in the Spirit. A vision perhaps? A Spirit-forged gift? An unexplainable resolve and peace? In any case, this gift is not intellectually obtained, nor is it the fruit of ethical behavior. It is ecstatic, mystical, otherworldly.

But are there other ways we might experience God’s mystical love that John has not mentioned? One avenue is the body of Christ. When I am loved supernaturally by another Christian, when I am loved supernaturally by the body of Christ, I gain a fresh vision of God’s love at work through them for me. When God’s love feels distant, the body’s love is tangible and real, and when I experience it, my own ability to love is quickened. This too, this undramatic, less-than-fantastic, simple experience of love is a working of God’s Spirit among us.

Original Meaning

The Inspiration of Christian Love (4:11–16)

VERSE 11 SHIFTS subjects to the immediate concern on the apostle’s mind. We are alerted to this change by his use again of “beloved” (see above, v. 7). John is a pastor writing passionately to his followers.

The conditional clause in verse 11 (beginning with Gk. ei [“if”], translated “since” in NIV) must be interpreted accurately. It does not express uncertainty (as some translations suggest) but fact: “since God so loved us….” There is no condition here—John has already affirmed in no uncertain terms that God’s activity in Christ has given us indisputable evidence of the Father’s love. Therefore, the exhortation to love springs not from any anxiety about losing this love nor from a threat of God’s wrath. Our obligation to love one another is a by-product of God’s loving generosity toward us (cf. 3:11, 14, 23; 4:12, 21; 5:2; 2 John 5). John believes that this is the first inspiration of Christian love: It is a reflection of divine love already showered upon us.

Moreover, John goes on to say that as we meet this obligation to love, we experience something unparalleled: God lives within us as his love is made complete through us (vv. 12, 15). This explains John’s reference to the invisibility of God in verse 12. Love that is inspired by God, that is a fulfillment of this divine obedience, makes God a tangible reality. In verse 13 we learn of the vehicle that brings this presence of God about, namely, the Holy Spirit. This notion is paralleled in 3:24. Those who obey God’s commands live in him and he lives in them. “This is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us.” Here, then, is the second inspiration of Christian love: God’s own Spirit, which is powerfully alive within us as we obey (3:24) and love (4:13).

Finally, John offers a third source of inspiration. We do not simply hear about what God has done in Christ, nor do we simply experience the Spirit. John insists that through our proclamation—our testimony—the reality of God presses itself into our lives (vv. 14–16). We are forced to observe that faithful, loving discipleship is not simply an emotional experience of being loved or a response to an ethical command. It is not even loving conduct, although all of these things are significant. Such discipleship has theological content. God’s indwelling is mediated to us through the work of Christ (“If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in him and he in God,” v. 15). John’s vision of discipleship demands our minds as well as our hearts.