Confident and Unashamed

I remember a time when I was in high school when my parents went away overnight and left me and my older brother, also in high school, at home. This was unusual, so don't think too badly of them. I don't remember what we did, but I remember being really nervous when Mom and Dad came back home. Would they be happy with the house? Would they be disappointed with us? Had we, without realizing it, done something really stupid?

Now, as an adult, I face frequent audits at work, and every time I think of that old high school memory, because the feeling is the same. 

So what am I going to feel when Jesus comes? Somehow, I'm not thinking confident and unashamed, but John says I should. In 1 John 2:28-29 he wrote, "And now, dear children, continue in him, so that when he appears we may be confident and unashamed before him at his coming. If you know that he is righteous, you know that everyone who does what is right has been born of him."

It's easy, John says. Instead of being enticed away by the worldly anti-christs, I just have to continue in Jesus, meaning do what's right in the light of His righteousness. That's it. Do that, and I can feel confident before even the Lord of the Universe.

Simple in the saying and understanding. Nearly impossible in the doing. Except every time I get it wrong, it's already been made right by Jesus' blood sacrifice. So as long as I'm trying there's no way to really get it wrong, at least not in a salvation sense. Not so hard after all, praise God!

Anointing

I've written this blog from day one (152 posts now, and counting) simply as my own reflection on scripture. I don't research, don't check other sources, don't even look at the notes. This blog is a journal of my attempt to understand God. Sometimes, I wonder if that doesn't open me up to error, and to giving bad ideas to any readers I might have.

But then I read this (1 John 2:26-27): "I am writing these things to you about those who are trying to lead you astray. As for you, the anointing you received from him remains in you, and you do not need anyone to teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about all things and as that anointing is real, not counterfeit–just as it has taught you, remain in him."

John seems to be saying, "I've written a lot about these anti-christs, who would love to trick you. But don't worry too much; you have an anointing, and that means you can figure it out on your own." The anointing, of course, is the Holy Spirit, who counsels me about everything.

So, when someone tries to tell me something about God, the Spirit will wave a red flag if it's false. When I meditate prayerfully on  scripture, the Spirit will help me to see what God is telling me. When I don't know what to do and pray for guidance, the Spirit will nudge me in the right direction. When I'm fearful and need strength, the Spirit will give me the spirit of a lion.

This is Jesus' parting gift to his followers: He gave us this anointing. He sent us a Paraclete (in the lingo of the time, a paraclete was a defense attorney; the actual word means "one who comes alongside - I have that from RC Sproul.) I have the best advisor in the world. All I have to do is listen.

Remaining

I never liked the idea of remaining; it seems too much like being left behind. In the Guard, when my unit moved out, someone had to remain as trail party to clean things up and to hand over the position to someone else, and I hated that duty. I wanted to be moving forward; I vastly preferred the quartering party, which was first into the new position. The word "remain" connotes, to me at least, no change, staying stagnant. 

But John, in the verses I read this morning, encourages remaining. 1John 2:24-25 says "See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you. If it does, you also will remain in the Son and in the Father. And this is what he promised us–even eternal life."

That kind of remaining suggests steadfastness. By "heard from the beginning," John means the original Gospel message, not all the recent false gospels of the anti-christs. By remaining in, or clinging to, the true Gospel, I will also remain in, or not drift away from, God. My reward for that is eternal life.

This kind of remaining isn't being left behind; I'm not the trail party. This kind of remaining is more like digging in on a dominant position, refusing to leave a stronghold that controls the battlefield. If I believe the Gospel, I already hold the best possible position; I'd be a fool not to remain.

Lies of the Anti-Christ

You how you know when an Army recruiter is lying? His lips are moving. 

That's an old joke, and not fair to the professional NCOs who comprise the Army's sales force. More accurate to say, until you've been in, you don't have enough context to understand what a recruiter is telling you.

But, John says, there is a fool-proof way to know when you're being lied to about where to put your faith. In 1 John 2:22-23 he says "Who is the liar? It is the man who denies that Jesus is the Christ. Such a man is the antichrist–he denies the Father and the Son. No one who denies the Son has the Father; whoever acknowledges the Son has the Father also."

Anyone who tells me Jesus was just a good man is lying. Anyone who says Jesus wasn't a man at all, but an angel or something else, is lying. Anyone who says there's another way to be saved is lying. Anyone who says I need something else plus Jesus is lying. 

Because here's the deal: God himself testifies that Jesus is the way, the truth and the lire, and that no one gets back to God except through him. If I believe any of those lies about Jesus, I'm calling God a liar.

It's comforting to me to have complete assurance, at least on one point. There's enough uncertainty in the world. And assurance on this point is all I need to handle all the other questions.

We Know

Sometimes we just know. I remember a fellow Guardsman asking how I knew I could trust my wife while I was gone. It had never occurred to me that maybe I couldn't; I just knew she was a faithful partner.

Sometimes we believe when we're told by someone we trust. Your dad says, "That's a good car." Your broker says, " Sell that stock." 

Sometimes, John says, God dwells in us and tells us what's true. In 1 John 2:20-21 he writes, "But you have an anointing from the Holy One, and all of you know the truth. I do not write to you because you do not know the truth, but because you do know it and because no lie comes from the truth."

Remember, John is talking about false prophets, anti-christs. He's reminding the church of the great gift they have in the Holy Spirit: He won't ever guide them wrong. They will know when those other guys are spouting lies, because the Spirit will wave a warning flag. 

What a gift! If I can just listen to that voice of caution inside my soul, I can navigate safely through all the false messages being spouted from pulpits these days. "Go ahead and chase money; God wants you to be rich." "God wants you to be happy, so do what makes you happy." "Go ahead and sin, so that God's grace may abound." "You're chosen, and it's OK to hate anyone who isn't." 

There are a lot of false prophets out there, but no worries. We know the truth.

Last Hour

Every once in a while, I read something in scripture that might as well be in another language, for all that I understand of it. I had that feeling this morning, when I read 1 John 2:18-19: "Dear children, this is the last hour; and as you have heard that the antichrist is coming, even now many antichrists have come. This is how we know it is the last hour. They went out from us, but they did not really belong to us. For if they had belonged to us, they would have remained with us; but their going showed that none of them belonged to us. "

Problem #1: Almost 2,000 years ago, John wrote that it was the last hour.

Problem #2: The proof it was the last hour was that some unidentified anti-christs left the church.

Obviously the last hour isn't a literal statement; the world didn't end an hour later. Just as obviously, this isn't another case of a false prediction of the end of the world. So "the last hour" must be John's way of saying that with Jesus' death and resurrection we have moved into the final stage, "the last hour," of the redemption story. 

It's like a drama in four acts: Act I was the original sin of Adam and our separation from God, Act II was the covenant made with Israel that would produce a savior, and Act III was the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, which ended that separation from God for Jew and Gentile alike. Now the last hour, Act IV, where the Gospel message goes out and disciples are made.

Act IV, though, isn't a triumphant epilogue, like Aragorn's coronation at the end of the Lord of the Rings. Act IV is a bloody battle, it's the Gospel being counter-attacked by a furious Satan who knows he's losing. That's why these anti-christs (meaning those preaching an anti-Gospel) are the proof that we're in Act IV. And this act will go on as long as it takes for Jesus' harvest of souls to be complete.

That's my best interpretation at the moment. I make it a point in this blog to record only scripture and my own meditative response to it. It will be interesting to look at a commentary and see what the smart people have to say. 

Passing Fancies

I spent the last two days going through an audit of our quality systems. During audits it sometimes takes a lot of effort not to see every comment as criticism, but there was one thing the auditor said that really rankled: She called one of our programs the "flavor of the month," meaning we'd done it when it was new and popular but weren't committed to it. In effect, she called it a fad. My grandma had an older term for the same thing: she would have called it a passing fancy.

Because the audit is so fresh, it was the first thing I thought of when I read 1 John 2:15-17: "Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For everything in the world–the cravings of sinful man, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does–comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever."

All those glittery, flashy, fleshy temptations the world flaunts are just passing fancies, doomed to extinction. My cravings and lusts, the urge I sometimes have to talk myself up - those are worldly things, and there will come a time when I won't care about them anymore, and neither will anyone else. 

When that day comes, if the world is what I've invested myself in, if the world is what has my heart, then I'll be left with nothing when it all passes away. On the other hand, if I've pursued God's will, I'll live forever. When you put it that way, it's a no-brainer.

Dear Young Men

John has one more specific group of readers he has a word for: Young men. In verses 13 and 14 of 1 John 2 he writes, "I write to you, young men,because you have overcome the evil one. . . . I write to you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God lives in you, and you have overcome the evil one."

I'm not sure exactly what John is trying to say here, but I have a couple of thoughts. First, young men could refer to exactly that, men of a certain age in the church, the ones providing the energy to do the hard work of church building.

The words John has for this group, though, suggest maybe he's referring to a stage of spiritual maturity. Since these young men obviously haven't overcome the evil one in the world in general, it seems John is referring to their personal lives. "You've accepted the Gospel, you've put your faith in Jesus," he seems to be saying. "You've overcome the evil one in your heart and are following Jesus now."

As a result of that personal victory, the word of God now lives in them, and they are strong for the Lord. That too sounds like the enthusiasm of newfound faith. So, these excited new Christians also hear the command that is both old as time and new as they are. 

My challenge: To keep overcoming the evil one in my personal life, and to rekindle that strength of purpose these "young men" of the early church had. It shouldn't be as hard as it is some days.

Dear Fathers

"I write to you, fathers, because you have known him who is from the beginning." John repeats this statement twice, in 1 John 2 verse 13 and verse 14.
On the surface, it seems the same reason John gave for writing the children (same verses), which was that they had known God. The different word choices are interesting, though, and suggest different purposes. Writing to the children, he talked about forgiveness and knowing the Father; the context seems to be that relationship where the father forgives the wrongs of his children. Now, the emphasis seems to be on God's timelessness. Same God, different attribute.
The timelessness of God correlates well with reference to the old command in verse 7. John's point seems to be, "You fathers are primed for what I'm telling you because you're tuned in to the Old Testament God." Remember, the old men in his audience were born in a time before Jesus; they grew to be men before there was a Gospel to proclaim.
 What difference does that make? I think in addition to what the children know (the forgiveness of the Father), the fathers remember also those days of law and judgment. They know that the only reason there is Good News is because the God of old worked out an ages-long plan that brought Jesus to the cross, and brought us redemption.
His reason is the same, though: Love and gratitude. Fathers know the before as well as the after. So do I. That's the whole point of the Old Testament, so that I could know God in the same way He revealed Himself to His people. I know both the God of judgment and wrath, and the God of grace and mercy. How can I not be grateful for the cross?

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Dear Children

After talking about walking in light instead of darkness, and the new command that is the same as the old one (obey God), John takes a minute to talk to his audience, and the first group he addresses as "children." I'm not sure if he means little children, or children of God; there are other places where he starts sentences by saying "Dear children." But since he addresses young men and fathers later on, I'm thinking he means kids. And here's what he says to them (1 John 2:12-13):
"I write to you, dear children, because your sins have been forgiven on account of his name. . . . I write to you, dear children, because you have known the Father."

Your sins have been forgiven and you have know the Father? Your sins have been forgiven because you have known the Father? I'm not sure, and I'm not sure it makes a difference. They are secure in the Father's love, all wrongs atoned for, and because of that John writes to them about this new command. "You have good reason to obey the new command, to follow Jesus out of love and gratitude," John seems to be saying. John knows these are people touched by the gospel, people who know their great good fortune. He has chosen his audience carefully.

I have the same reason. My sins have been forgiven on account of Jesus' name. I have known the Father - Jesus said whoever knows Jesus knows the one who sent Him. I have been disciplined and comforted by the Father. What response can there be but love and gratitude? John's words are for me, the new command and the old, are for me. The admonitions about light and darkness are for me. That's the great wonder of the gospel: every word, though written centuries ago to people long dead, are also spoken fresh each time I read them, spoken by God for my ears, and my heart. Love and gratitude, indeed.

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Blind Hate

There's something about strong emotion that makes it hard to think straight, or see right. That's why we say love is blind; people in love can miss, or at least overlook, flaws that seem obvious to the desert of us. But hate can be more blinding than love.

In 1 John 2:9, John writes, "Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness. Whoever loves his brother lives in the light, and there is nothing in him to make him stumble. But whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks around in the darkness; he does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded him."

I've known people who lost their jobs or spent their savings going after someone they hated. When we get that passionate, it's anyone's guess what we might do. Worse, it's clear proof that we're walking in darkness.

I say "we" because I think we all get blinded by hatred more than we think. I do. I can wish someone would just find another church. I can hate people I've never met, just based on the news. When I get that way, my thoughts, and sometimes words or actions, are the opposite of the fruits of the spirit.

We have to remember that our God isn't just loving, he is love itself. He's the thing that gives the word "love" meaning. That's why hate blinds; it keeps us from seeing others as God does.

 

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New Command

Has John changed his mind? In 1 John 2:8 he writes, “Yet I am writing you a new command; its truth is seen in him and you, because the darkness is passing and the true light is already shining.” But just one verse earlier, he said he was giving an old command, one that was given in the beginning. I wrote about that yesterday. What gives?

I think what John is saying that the old, old command to obey God is refreshed by what Jesus did. How? Well, John explains that we can see the truth in Jesus because the darkness is passing and the true light is shining. The truth of what? In some way, of the old command. I think he means that what Jesus changes is that instead of obeying out of fear of God’s judgment, we now obey out of love for Jesus and gratitude for his sacrifice.

You see the difference? The old way was, “Yes, Judge, I’ll do what you say because I’m afraid of what you can do to me; I’ll obey your law because I don’t what what I’ll get if I don’t.” The new way: “Yes, Jesus, I’m so grateful and love you so much I’ll do anything to please you. Nothing you could possibly ask is enough to repay you. Just give me a chance to serve you.”

The first way, we obey because we have to. After Jesus, we obey because we want to; it’s the only reasonable response.

I believe that in my mind; some days my heart wonders (and wanders). Some days my wilful heart doesn’t care what Jesus has done, it thinks what Jesus asks is too much. But that’s because I lose sight of the truth revealed by this new, true light: That all Jesus wants is what I was made for, and that anything that looks better to me is a lie from the Father of Lies. What Jesus really commands me to do is to look to my own joy, because the only way to have it is in obeying Him.

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Old Command

Sometimes the more things change, the more they stay the same. Sure, there’s a lot of new stuff going on - social media and electric cars and drones - but in the end it all comes back to people, and how you make them feel. And sometimes the new technology doesn’t help.

When John wrote to the early church, a couple millennia of history had flowed by and, to those early Christians, it was a brand new world. Christ had come, sin and death had been defeated, the old law had been fulfilled and there was a new law of love. To them, the cross was as new and fresh as the Internet is to us. It was a time of new ways and new ideas.

Yet John, after telling the church that Christians will be marked by the way they obey Christ’s commands and by the way they imitate Christ, writes, “Dear friends, I am not writing you a new command but an old one, which you have had since the beginning. This old command is the message you have heard.” (1 John 2:7).

This new gospel, John says, and this new law of love, are really no different than the standard set at the very start. In the garden of Eden God made man and told him two things: obey God and be productive (by tending the garden). Now Jesus comes, and the new law of love and the core of the Gospel message is to obey Jesus, and be productive (by making disciples).

Why would I expect anything different? After all, the entire point of Jesus’ sojourn on earth and sacrifice on the cross was to fix what Adam broke when he didn’t obey. It took those thousands of years for God’s plan to reset our relationship to be carried out, but God’s intent for that relationship never changed.

Jesus is now the risen Lord, but he wants from me the same things that God wanted from Adam: Obedience and productivity. Some things never change. Thankfully, one of those is God Himself.

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Proof

My grandma used to say, “The proof is in the pudding.” For a long time, I was skeptical of pudding; I didn’t know what proof was but I didn’t want to eat any of it.

I know now, though, that grandma was right. That’s an old saying that means the results will show what you really put into it. And that’s absolutely true about life.

John writes, in 1 John 2:3-6, “We know that we have come to know him if we keep his commands. Whoever says,“I know him,” but does not do what he commands is a liar,and the truth is not in that person. But if anyone obeys his word,love for God is truly made complete in them. This is how we know we are in him: Whoever claims to live in him must live as Jesus did.”

That means that we can’t hide what we really think of Jesus. I can wear all the WWJD bracelets I want, and never miss church, but do I give my money? My time? Do I show love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control? Do I love people? Do I serve them? Do I turn my back on the things of this world and seek only what God loves?

Jesus told us to do all those things that he modeled for us. How can I claim to carry his name if, today, I didn’t do any of them?

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No-Fault Failure

Other than running, I never was much of an athlete. Some in my family were, and they’ve offered plenty of amateur coaching meant to help me perform better. But I guess there’s something in my mental makeup that resists coaching. I can stand on the tee-box, envision the perfect drive, line up my feet, position the ball correctly, tuck in my elbows, blah, blah, blah. And rip a worm-burner off into the left rough, just ahead of the ladies’ tee. I can see it in my head, I just don’t do it.

 

That’s what life is like for me. I know what right looks like, I mean well, but the results often aren’t what I wanted. That’s why I find comfort in 1 John 2:1-2: “My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have an advocate with the Father—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.”

 

It’s like John knows me. He didn’t, but the God who inspired his letter does. He knows that despite my best intentions, I am going to sin. I never accept my failure as pre-ordained; in fact, I succeed more than I fail. But I fail daily. Don’t try to, but I do.

 

When that happens, God sees and judges. But Jesus is right there, John says, and he speaks up. “Yeah, Greg blew it again, but he’s one of mine and I’ve got a tab running for my people. That’s what the cross is all about. True, Greg’s racked up a lot of debt but there’s still enough in my account to cover it. He’s clear with you, Father, and he’s worth it to me.”

 

What I don’t get is this: Why would anyone put their faith anywhere else? Jesus’ account is enough to cover everyone, but it only covers those who believe in his sacrifice. Way too many don’t.

 

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Light and Darkness

I ran in the dark this morning. Actually, there were street lights on parts of my route, but on other parts there was no light and I ran in the darkness. If I strained, I could still see my way, but I had to slow down to keep from going off the sidewalk. If a car came by and blinded me, I couldn’t see anything, and more than once I had to stop and wait.

 

That was my context when I read 1 John 1:5-7 a little later on: “This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.” God is light; the more light I have, the more boldly and swiftly I go because my footing is sure and my course is obvious.

 

Why, then, do I sometimes choose to walk in the dark? Somewhere else in scripture (Romans, maybe?) it says that men choose darkness to hide what they’re doing. Do I do that? Sometimes, I guess. But mostly, I think, I just go into the dark because I’m curious. I want to see what’s there. I want to know what everyone is talking about. But walking the unlit streets is a choice to move away from God.

 

Darkness can’t coexist with light; light pushes away darkness. If I go with God, I can’t even go into the dark. God’s very presence chases away sin like Light scares cockroaches. That means in order to find sin, even just for a curious look, I have to leave God to get there. That’s a stupid choice; you can get hurt alone in the dark.

 

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