1 John 5:13–21

Original Meaning

Prayer and Assurance (5:13–15)

SOME COMMENTATORS PREFER to see verse 13 as connected to the previous section, as a closing statement that concludes the thoughts of 5:11–12. This may be the case. But it is frequently John’s style to link sections together by employing a common theme. In the present section he wants to strengthen his followers’ resolve and to reassure them of their place with God and the promises that accrue to those who hold fast to the faith. Therefore, he recapitulates what he said earlier and, in so doing, gives a summary of his purposes for the whole letter. Smalley helpfully translates the beginning of the sentence, “I have written so that you may be sure that you possess eternal life.”2 Even the grammar of this verse underscores the quality of this possession.3 This is not just life God has given, it is “life eternal.” And it is a gift to be possessed now. His present tense implies the enduring, reassuring effects of knowing our eternal destiny. Life is not just a promise, it is an inheritance enjoyed in the present. In Johannine language, it is having fellowship with God (John 17:3; 1 John 1:3–4).

One of the results of this knowledge is confidence or boldness before God, particularly as we pray (v. 14). Once before John raised the subject of prayer and confidence (see 3:21–23). There he urged that successful prayer must be wed to a life that glorifies God, that conforms to God’s desires, and that thereby pleases him. John now adds that prayer must also be in conformity with God’s will. Thus the wonder of prayer “consists not in bringing God’s will down to us, but in lifting our will up to His.”4

Jesus perhaps modeled this best. His will was always one with the Father (John 4:34), he always did the Father’s works (6:38–40), and he always spoke what the Father wished him to say (3:34; 8:55; 14:10; 17:8). John believes that through this oneness a profound intimacy will result, making prayer a genuine unity of wills. In John 15:7 Jesus says, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you.” Spiritual remaining is the key that unlocks the power of prayer.

To say that God “hears” (Gk. akouo) us does not diminish his interest at all. This does not imply that our prayers are merely “audible.” John uses this word frequently in his Gospel (fifty-nine times) and letters (sixteen times). It suggests “attentive listening” or “listening favorably” (John 9:31; 11:41–42); in some cases it means “to understand.”5 In other words, God does not simply hear us, but he understands and responds. Moreover, John takes the next step: “We know that we have what we ask for.” In other words, our requests are granted. This is a remarkable statement and has led to endless misunderstanding and anguish over the centuries. Any contemporary application demands careful thought (see pp. 219–27). No doubt the condition of verse 14 (abiding in God’s will) applies not only to God’s hearing but also to our receiving God’s gifts. Union with God’s will is a prerequisite for each.

Bridging Contexts

JOHN’S FINAL CHORE in his correspondence to his followers is to strengthen their confidence and resolve. They are in the midst of a disheartening struggle! We have to keep in mind that families—men, women, and children—who once were close are now experiencing conflict. Old friends are now new enemies. And despair is everywhere. John, of course, has declared what is right and what is wrong, who has sinned and who has not. But like a coach who has just outlined the strengths of his team’s opponents—and his own team’s weaknesses—John must now rebuild. This is similar to a pastor whose congregation is suffering the tremors of a threatened split: The crisis of the church can become a crisis of personal faith. Once the theological boundaries of the debate have been marked off, it is vital to turn to “the care of souls,” to see what harm the struggle has inflicted on people who cannot see God anymore because of the skirmishes beneath the steeple.

As I bring 1 John 5:13–21 into my context, I am helped through remembering that these words of encouragement about prayer, eternal life, and Christ’s nurturing protection form the climax of John’s pastoral effort. He wants his people to be confident Christians, not victimized Christians. And not only does he affirm his care for his followers, but he adds that they need to begin to watch out for one another. John cannot be in all places at all times. Pity the pastor who tries! But through their joint efforts John envisions a community that is self-sustaining, mutually encouraging, and watchful lest any particular member falls.

If believers today likewise suffer dismay and shattered confidence because of their experiences in the church, these verses have much to say. Such dismay could spring from an internal struggle, much like that in the Johannine church. On the other hand, it could be a personal struggle of some sort that distorts the presence of God and saps their belief. Verses 13–21 are fresh mortar for damaged foundations; they are salve for wounds incurred when Christians hurt one another. And they offer new vision when confusion has made the spiritual world less certain.

Four areas of strengthening that spring from this passage will serve us well in the church today. This section is a practical paragraph, aimed at rebuilding the personal lives of exhausted people. Inasmuch as men and women in John’s day were worn down through struggle, as we too can be, these verses offer potent help. (1) The paragraph is brimming with confidence and tries to instill in us that faith does not have to lack assurance. We live in a world of disbelief. Postmodern prophets seem to say that uncertainty is all we can be sure about. When the modern church makes an unholy wedding of faith and uncertainty, we would do well to hear John’s exhortation.

(2) John’s interest in Christian confidence likewise spills over into the subject of prayer. To be confident in God is not merely an intellectual exercise, but is practically experienced in prayer. Yet any application of 5:14–15 must be cautious, lest formulas and unwarranted expectation result.

(3) John envisions a church where men and women nurture, sustain, and even warn one another. Depleted Christians are weakened Christians for whom the world and its allure have a stronger gravitational pull. This too has a needed—and courageous—application in the church.

(4) Finally, John understands that the conflicts of life, the woundedness of our leaders, and the frailty of the church make it impossible for us to rest our confidence in human institutions. Our vision must be of Jesus Christ himself, because the vicissitudes of this life will make all human institutions, including the church, disappointing.

All four of these concerns are aimed at one thing we desperately need today: strengthened believers, whose vision of their Lord is so clear that their stamina in faith, in prayer, and in righteousness is tangible.

Contemporary Significance

I AM OFTEN intrigued when I meet a wounded Christian. They are everywhere. I am especially interested if these wounds have come from the church. If I ask a class of college students to tell me about their experiences in the church that have not been helpful, the stories seem endless. Of course, many will eagerly tell about the wonder of their church and thank God for the community back home. But there are also darker stories, and these we need to hear too.

In some cases, a student tells about a parent who is a pastor and who experienced a damaging power struggle. Other stories tell of charismatic Sunday school teachers who undercut the authority of the pastor. But most will describe interpersonal relationships that have simply been ungodly, relationships that have made them cynical. They speak of men and women for whom the church became an arena to perform musically, teach large crowds, control funds, or simply leverage power. Some witnessed the power of money and how it bought undue influence. For others the church had become a social network—a family network perhaps—that was as satisfying for some as it was devastating for others. It is always the viciousness of such stories that disturbs me—how quickly Christians can hurt one another.

These stories of personal harm and devastation are commonplace not just among students, but within the larger population of the church as well. Adults report breathtaking examples of despair in their experience in the pew. William Hendricks took a special interest in people who have been wounded by the church, studying the stories of men and women who left the church as a result.11 This book makes for difficult and necessary reading.

While the stories are all different, the result always seems the same. Not only do these people deeply question the church, but they question God as well. For them, the church is Christ’s body—his visible presence—and the pastor is genuinely a priest, representing God in word and deed. When community and leadership fail, the damage goes far beyond what we imagine.

Such wounded Christians need healing. They need a fresh vision of God aside from what has been going on in their particular church. This is not to say the local church is unimportant, but if the church is in disarray, if it hurts more than it heals, John’s words in 5:13–21 will bring help.

(1) Christian confidence and doubt. John emphasizes again and again the importance of Christians knowing with assurance essential facts about their relationship with God. We should know, for instance, that Christ has not only worked on our behalf (v. 20), but he also protects us (v. 18). God’s commitment is such that he listens to our prayers (v. 14) and has guaranteed to us eternal life (v. 13). John has urged throughout his letter how Christians should believe and emphasized how they should live. But believing and living must be wed to knowing.

Christian communities can be terribly honest. We sometimes discuss our doubts and uncertainties as a means of giving one another comfort. In some places, not knowing has even become a virtue. One chaplain at a nearby college even changed his school’s annual “Festival of Faith” to a “Festival of Doubt” in order to underscore the point. Needless to say, the chapel series was quite depressing! Of course, this cautionary spirit sometimes springs from humility (intellectual or personal). Sometimes it springs from our personal distaste for some fundamentalists who use their theological certainties to bludgeon those different from them. At other times, however, such uncertainty is utterly misplaced.

The church has sometimes confused uncertainty in faith with thinking that faith is holding to something when you have no confidence in the truth. “We’ll never know those answers till we get to heaven,” was one youth leader’s response to questioning junior high students who voiced sincere though answerable doubts. I heard one nine-year-old say to his friend, “I guess you get the facts in school, but here at church you just get opinions.” This youth group was cultivating a culture of “uncertainty,” even though its personal ministry was strong and caring. While it rightly desired to affirm those who doubt, it inadvertently affirmed doubt as a normative Christian experience.

We need to be bold about those things we know with certainty. We need to speak with conviction and assurance about God and his commitment to us. We need to say from lectern and pulpit, “God desires for us to be confident! God desires for us to be bold! God desires to purge doubt from our souls so that we can live enjoying the assurance of one who is eternally loved.” When our assurance is truly anchored and secure, no conflict or disarray in the church can ever unsettle it.

Does this mean that Christians cannot have doubts? John does not answer this question for us because his context is focused on the devastation in his church. All Christians have doubts. But our pastoral goal should be to focus elsewhere, as John has done, and to promote certainty where we can.

(2) Christian confidence and prayer. The temptation for younger Christians is to view 5:14–15 as a formula for prayer. If we pray sincerely, we will get what we want. Of course there are conditions, and most will point to obedience in 3:21–23. The Fourth Gospel contains a number of such promises, which generally add that prayer must always be “in Jesus name:”

• “I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.” (John 14:13–14 NRSV)

• “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.” (John 14:16 NRSV)

• “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” (John 15:7, NRSV)

• “You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.” (John 15:16 NRSV)

• “On that day you will ask nothing of me. Very truly, I tell you, if you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete.” (John 16:23–24 NRSV)

Similar confidence in prayer is explained in Mark 11:21–24. After the apostles discovered the fig tree that Jesus had cursed the previous day, Peter exclaimed:

“Rabbi, look! The fig tree you cursed has withered!”

“Have faith in God,” Jesus answered. “I tell you the truth, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

Jesus even follows his saying with an example of a spiritual condition that might impede the success of such prayers, namely, that sin against another person leads to dissonance between us and God (11:25). Jesus opens this subject elsewhere in Matthew 7:7–8; 18:19–20. In Luke 11:5–10 Jesus tells an entire parable about confidence in prayer and follows it with poetic lines about God’s eagerness to give us generous gifts.

How do we balance the practical realities of prayer with these promises? It will not do simply to say that if we follow these formulas, all prayers will be answered just as they are uttered. God does not serve as our butler. On the other hand, it will not do to reject these promises altogether, as if prayer was anything more than wishful thinking. Rather, John has in mind a union, a mystical union, between our lives and the Spirit of God that will ultimately express itself in one voice. This is what the Johannine language for “in my name” is trying to depict. We become one with Jesus. Our will is then transformed freely to become his will. With God’s stepping so deeply inside our lives, we have utter confidence that he knows the quietest thoughts of our hearts.

Some will object that this is no gift at all! Our desires are hijacked, submerged by God’s overpowering voice! But in reality God’s will is graced by a wisdom far beyond anything we could think or imagine, and trusting him in his goodness is part of our union with him. This means that as Christians we need to develop prayer that listens as well as prayer that speaks. “Listening prayer” has always been commonplace among Christian mystics and spiritual masters, but strangely uncommon among us who are evangelicals.

Nevertheless, it is verses such as 1 John 5:14–15 that can lead to tremendous disappointment. At times it seems that every effort, every attempt to seek some connection with God fails. God’s silence—or the circumstances of my life—are unexplainable. The psalmist in Psalm 44:23–24 reflects this frustration:

Awake, O Lord! Why do you sleep?

Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever.

Why do you hide your face

and forget our misery and oppression?

Job cries out in Job 30:26–27:

Yet when I hoped for good, evil came;

when I looked for light, then came darkness.

The churning inside me never stops;

days of suffering confront me.

Few writers have attempted to address this problem of thoroughgoing disappointment. Philip Yancy’s courageous book Disappointment with God tells story after story of believers who, because of crushing disappointment with God, have questioned the validity of their faith. Three questions, Yancy argues, are left unaddressed by the church: (1) Is God unfair? Why doesn’t he consistently punish evil people and reward good people? Why do awful things happen to people good and bad? (2) Is God silent? If he is so concerned about our doing his will, why doesn’t he reveal that will more plainly? (3) Is God hidden? Why doesn’t he simply show up sometime, visibly, and dumbfound the skeptics once and for all?12

Yancy surveys the biblical stories (particularly the early Old Testament books) and finds clues to patterns in how God relates to his people. And disappointment is not an uncommon theme. But there are answers, and Yancy culls these from everywhere: from Leo Tolstoy to Frederick Buechner to a terminally ill twenty-three-year-old woman named Peggy, who wrote, citing William Barclay, “Endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.”13

Yancy’s evidence is clear and compelling. Passages such as 1 John 5:14–15 can present overwhelming personal questions and anguish about the faith. We need to be equipped to hear them and wrestle honestly with them.

(3) Sin that leads to death. Today the Roman Catholic Church continues a medieval tradition that distinguished between venial sin and mortal sin. Venial sins are “pardonable” sins that do not exclude one from the kingdom of God (cf. Gal. 5:19–21; Eph. 5:5 with James 3:2; 1 John 1:8). Mortal sins, however, have more severe consequences and lead to spiritual death. Aquinas described these differences as degrees of disorder: Mortal sin violates the basic principle of divine order; venial sin does not touch the principle but simply brings disorder to the soul. Moreover, venial sins may disorder the soul to such a degree that at some point, a person turns from God. It is this turning, this repudiation of God, that introduces mortal sin and eternal death.

I find this clarification instructive. John is urging prayer for individuals whose lives are marked by a degree of sin that has not led to their eternal death. He distinguishes these sinners from those whose sins are intentional, whose lives have separated them from the community, who no longer have divine life in them. In John’s context, this latter group no doubt describes the secessionists, who have allied themselves with darkness and are leaving the community. They are no longer with God; they are with the antichrist. On the other hand, John knows other Christians whose lives are perilously close to danger. Perhaps they are flirting with switching sides; perhaps they have committed sins that could lead to dangerous places. John has hope for them.

What is less clear is how we apply this to our present setting today. Scripture indicates that there are sins so severe that forgiveness is virtually impossible (Matt. 12:31–32; Mark 3:28–30; Luke 12:10; cf. Heb. 6:4–6). Paul even indicates that there are certain sins that exclude people from the kingdom (1 Cor. 6:9; Gal. 5:21; 1 Thess. 4:6). Therefore, we must not take this lightly. Sinners who become engrossed and complacent in their sinning are in genuine jeopardy.

But this is not John’s chief interest. John calls for serious involvement in the lives of people whose sins are not leading to death. These may be inadvertent sins (following the Old Testament example) or even minor (venial) sins. Either way, John calls for investment, active participation, mutual ownership of the problem.

What value is this? John says we must be alert to the lives of those living around us in the church. We must hold them up, pray for them, interrupt them, and confront them. Christians must “name” the sinfulness, the brokenness, that is alive in other Christians. We must admit when brokenness is within our ranks. And we must have the courage to do something about it. When Christians are hurting other Christians because of their brokenness (as in the Johannine context), still other Christians must intervene through prayer and words.

(4) Confidence and the sustaining presence of Christ. John is trying to repair what the division has broken. He wants his followers to be confident in their knowledge of God, confident in their prayers, and alert to those whose spiritual lives are suffering disintegration. There is, however, a fourth interest in the passage. John wants us to be confident because it is Christ, not the church, who sustains us amidst the disintegration of the world. In 5:18 he talks about Christ’s protection; in 5:20 he talks about being “in him” (in Christ) who is true, as if we are hidden within the powers of Jesus’ presence.

Christians who are wounded by the disarray of the church and the brokenness of its family need a larger vision of God. They need a vision of Jesus, whose glory and power loom over the fragments of community that warring Christians leave behind. They need a vision that transcends the broken, splintered experience of a local congregation.

Life in the church can be painful. And yet Jesus has not abandoned us. Pastors and mature Christian leaders can and will disappoint. But Jesus still remains committed and invested. I remember once teaching a Wednesday evening class at Willow Creek Community Church outside Chicago. After class a wounded Christian who had departed her church in dismay approached me. She had not gone to church for years. “It is so hard to believe these things about Jesus when his followers act the way they do,” she said. The word “hypocrisy” was not far from her lips.

She had been wounded in a skirmish not unlike that in John’s church. And I am sure I know what John would have told her: Jesus is true even though all else fails. You are still a child of God even though your family, the church, is broken beyond repair. And you can still discover the light and walk in it, even if those around you are succumbing to the darkness.

Original Meaning

Prayer and Sin (5:16–18)

THOUGHTS ON PRAYER lead in a more somber direction in verses 16–18, but there is a link with the foregoing that is important. Christians who are alert to God’s will should know with confidence the success of their prayers. But likewise they should know the seriousness of sin and how it impedes spiritual vitality. Moreover, they should know the power of prayer for another person—particularly for one who sins. It is likely that John has been leading up to this all along.6 In the letter he has marked off clear boundaries between true believers and the secessionists, the orthodox and the heretical, and he has emphasized the importance of sin and righteousness for the church (1:7–10; 2:12; 3:4–5, 8–9; 4:10). Christians acknowledge their sin (1:8; 2:1–3), but they do not persist in sinful habits (3:6–9). Unbelievers, by contrast, sin consistently but often refuse to admit it. Sin (for many of them) is an archaic category.

John has in mind a situation in which one believer sees another committing a sin. The NIV refers to “brother,” which literally translates the Greek word but in John’s idiom means any fellow believer. In this case, we are told to pray, and God will respond giving him or her life.7 The chief difficulty in the verse is that John says this intercession should be done for “those whose sin does not lead to death.” It is important to note what John is not saying. He is not saying that prayer for “sins leading to death” is prohibited or that there is a level of sin beyond which prayer is useless. The NIV translation of verse 16b obscures John’s interest to some extent, for he is only making his recommendation for “sin [that] does not lead to death.” He is silent about the other.

But what are these two types of sin? The “sin leading to death” could refer to physical illness and death (cf. Num. 18:22; Deut. 22:26; Isa. 22:14; Acts 5:1–11; 1 Cor. 5:5; 11:29–30). But this interpretation seems unlikely in the present passage, particularly since verse 16 says God will give the sinner life. This life must be eternal life; if it were physical life, John should extend it to those other “mortal” sins, the very thing he does not do. And those with “less deadly sins” do not have their physical lives in jeopardy in the first place.

A more helpful solution comes from the Old Testament distinction between inadvertent sins and intentional sins. In the Old Testament the temple sacrificial rituals only provided forgiveness for accidental or unconscious sins (Lev. 4:2, 13, 22, 27; 5:15–18; Num. 15:27–31; Ps. 19:13). When someone sinned intentionally and willfully, the sinner was either exiled (Num. 15:30–31) or killed (Deut. 17:12). This dual classification of sin persisted into Judaism of the New Testament period (cf. Qumran, 1QS 5:11–12).

But the more difficult exegetical question lies one step further. What type of sin does John have in mind for Christians? We will open this subject below.