I John 3:1-7 is part of a segment that begins in 2:28 and ends in 3:10, having the theme of contrasting the children of God versus the children of devil based on behavior. It adds to the previous contrast involving an Christological focus.
In this segment, we find a clear dualism arises between purity and lawlessness, salvation and sin. Here, the theme is that of contrasting the children of God with the children of the Devil based on their behavior, whether their behavior is just or sinful, which is adding to the previous Christological covering. Those who remain in Christ fulfill the law, become pure and do not sin. Those who remain in the realm of the devil are lawless and impure and receive punishment. Those who are pure are self-evidently part of Christ and his beloved community. They are righteous because they do "what is right" (3:7). Those who sin are self-evidently, according to John, not part of Christ and his community. One may assume in these verses that by "sin" John means the willful and re-occurring acts of wrongdoing. However, John is not entirely clear on this point: Something cosmic is at stake in this passage. Obviously, certain individuals who left the community, the opponents of John, manifested the sin to which John identifies (2:19).
By the time readers come to chapter 3, they might think they have already this passage. It contains some of the same ideas — the future, sin, and righteous conduct — and the same words — ὁ κόσμος, ἁμαρτίας, and μένων that appear in the previous chapters. In the gospel, Jesus talks about his disciples’ relation to “the world,” their “abiding” in him and their love for one another. These same subjects occur in the letters in an almost identical style of writing. Nevertheless, this passage has something unique to say about being a child of God and the effect that will have on one’s life.
In this letter, the enemy for John is no longer the unbelieving whether Jew or Gentile, but those who have abandoned the community. One cannot ascertain with complete certainty from the text the reason for the split; however, it is likely that the division occurred over the understanding of the true significance of Jesus (5:1).
Despite its ominous tone, the letter reveals the grace and power of the gospel in the promise that God's love is a gift given to us through Jesus Christ. Moreover, God's love forms community and orders the relationships between believers. It does reaffirm the promise that God reveals more to the believer who keeps the faith. The most suggestive issue in the text for postmodern Christians is this: At what price community?
This passage challenges me, for I am not much for the “us versus them” mentality. I much prefer to find places of ground we can share with integrity and move from there. Yet, genuine community is not a matter of believing whatever one wants and living in whatever way one wants. Genuine community has standards. What is the price of community?
I think of social media, and I long for a Christian presence that would be different from what we find on the rest of social media. I think of political engagement and wish that Christians would show a difference from how others participate in politics, regardless of their political persuasion.
For example, believers in Christ live in the love of God. In fact, I hope we never lose our amazement that God has turned toward us in a loving way through Christ. As such, God has become our Parent. To write in this way is to write of intimacy, dependence, and trust. We are to live our lives as children of our Parent. Our lives are to reflect our divine parentage.
Yet, just as Jesus experienced rejection, we as children of God can expect rejection. We can also expect that we will continue to experience the temptation to behave in ways that do not show our parentage. If we belong to God, if we are children of God, then we are to be like the one whose children we are. To purify ourselves means we rid ourselves of actions and attitudes inappropriate for ones who have such an intimate relationship with Christ. Each person has a choice. Each person can do what is right, which means love, or each person can sin and keep on sinning, without regard to its denial of the command of God to love.
To be a child of God is to begin a journey in the faith that will lead to a more profound knowledge of who Christ is, in his fullness. Furthermore, this journey will lead to a deeper, personal, moral purity; the believer will become like Jesus. As imperfect as we are, our behavior matters. Thankfully, when we become aware of specific sin, we can confess our sin and experience anew the forgiveness already won on the cross.
In I John 3:1-3, we find an exclamatory interruption. It contains many of the well-known themes one finds throughout the rest of the New Testament. The author joyfully affirms that the believers are children of God now. Whatever doubts they may have, whatever harsh words and actions the author has directed toward them, the writer wants them to know, without a doubt, they are children of God.
With the imperative 1See (Behold Ἴδετε), he wants to get their attention for what follows. He is getting emotional about this. We can understand why he wants to get their attention as he exclaims that the Father has loved (ἀγάπην) us so much that God would call us children of God (τέκνα, first use of this word in I John, Θεοῦ); and that is what we are. The opponents of the author may have argued that the insistence of the author on the unity of faith and works lowers the status of believers as children of God. They have received such a precious gift, for they have not earned the right. It comes as pure gift. We find this emphasis in Paul as well. Believers have become dear children. The intimacy of the parent and child relation also suggests dependency and trust. John will always use “children” in connection with God or the with the devil. He uses the word to express the fundamental relationship humans have with what defines their identity. In typical Johannine thought, one’s parentage is either divine or evil. One can find the reality of godly parentage in Old Testament images (i.e., Israel as children of God — Hosea 11:1). The reason the world (κόσμος) does not know us is that it did not know the Father. Thus, the relation a believer experiences with the Father through Christ places the believer at odds with the world. The Father calls believers to a separate way of life, one that necessarily creates division. The love of God not only positively transforms the community’s relationship with God, but it also changes the relationship of the community with the world. They will suffer rejection, just as Jesus did. The “world” that does not know them must have included the Jewish groups who viewed them as blasphemous, the Gentile groups who did not understand their customs, and members of their own group who had left the fold (2:19-20). There is a sense they felt rejected on all sides, but this was of no concern to those who have the assurance of the love of God. 2Beloved (Ἀγαπητοί), he reaffirms, we are God's children now (νῦν). This might be a subtle reminder that prior to their conversion and entrance into the community they were children of the world. The writer assumes a form of dualism, an “us versus them” perspective on the world that can make some persons suspicious. In John 8:44, “them” are the unbelieving who are children of the devil. Paul will suggest a dialectical tension between the believer and the world, offering ways for the Christian to live in the world while not conforming to it (Romans 12:1-2), which gives his wrestling with this tension an expansive and evangelistic mood. With John, the mood is more on the danger “the world” is to “us.” This letter will hold out the possibility that even some within the beloved community will reveal themselves to be dangerous. The ethical stance is personal, suspicious, and inner-directed. It has a sectarian mindset that is in tension with the type of love Jesus taught in the with the parable of the Good Samaritan and the expectation that followers of Jesus will preach the gospel to the ends of the earth. Such a view of the world can lead to withdraw from the world. Despite all these tendencies, if we read the letter as part of the canon, we will see that it is part of an internal conversation regarding church/world, believer/unbeliever that includes some tensions with which believers in every generation and culture will have to wrestle. Despite its ominous tone, the promise that the love of God is a gift through Jesus Christ reveals the grace and power of the gospel. Moreover, God's love forms community and orders the relationships between believers. It reaffirms the promise that the Father is to reveal more to the believer who keeps the faith. The most suggestive issue in the text for postmodern Christians is this: At what price community? Identification with a tribe within a modern culture can lead to a suspicious attitude toward those who identify with another tribe. It can lead to violence, as any other tribe becomes morally reprehensible. Thus, one may well sacrifice openness and learning from those different from us in favor of full identification with the moral superiority of our tribe. In fact, God has not yet revealed what we will be. If they have undergone a change from their previous life to their present existence, how much more will they change when the Father reveals Christ, and they see him just as he is? The future will be a new manifestation of the love that has accomplished the gift of becoming children of God. John is offering a brief reflection on time. His point is that on the path in time, objects and people exist only in anticipation of what they will be in the final revelation that only the end can clarify. We can rightly refer to that end as eternity. The clarity the end brings is the entry of eternity into time. In the end, the distinction between time and eternity dissolves as time itself disintegrates into the fullness that eternity represents. In the end, the totality of life arrives, along with the true and definitive identity of the finite and temporal. The future is that toward which the finite and temporal aim. Therefore, the future becomes the basis for the lasting essence of each individual creature that finds duration in its time and place. Finite things must relate to their eschatology.[1] What we do know is this: they already have the knowledge that when the revelation of Christ occurs by the Father, we will be like him. Here is another theme of the passage, as Christians are to be like Christ. We will live as reflections of the love of God. This will happen because we will see him, as he is (καθώς ἐστιν). The author affirms that he tangibly experienced Jesus during his minister (1:1-4). Yet, he looks forward to seeing him again in the fullness of his glory. Thus, they have already gone through a radical change. When the final disclosure brought by the end arrives, they will change even more to see Christ as he is. Pointing to the Johannine vision of eschatology, the writer proclaims that when our final nature is revealed, it will be like God. In I Corinthians 13:12, Paul says we see now in a dim glass compared with viewing things of the truth of their end. In addition, those 3who have this hope (ἐλπίδα) in him purify themselves. The call for the people of God to be pure is as old as the Holiness Code, especially in Leviticus 11:44-45, 19:2, 20:26, and 21:8. They are to be holy as God is holy. Jesus took this teaching and transformed it. Rather than imitating God’s holiness, we should be merciful as God is merciful (Matthew 18:24ff; Luke 6:35-36). If we belong to God, if we are children of God, then we are to be like the one whose children we are. As children of God, we are to be like our Father. Purity suggests ridding ourselves of attitudes and actions that are inappropriate of those who such an intimate relationship with the Father. We have the creation of a new divine family (2:29). They live in the love of God and have the firm hope of a glorious future. The revelation of this glorious future has not yet taken place.[2] The resemblance between the believer and Christ will be in the realm of righteousness. To be a child of God is to begin a journey in the faith that will lead to a more profound knowledge of who Christ is, in his fullness. Furthermore, this journey will lead to a deeper, personal, moral purity; the believer will become like Jesus. Ambrose Bierce once defined a saint, with some sarcasm, as “a dead sinner, revised and edited.” Yet, the statement has a degree of truth. God must revise and edit all Christians for them to enter divine glory.
The phrasing of this passage raises the question of our parentage. We might draw an analogy between the parents who raised us and our spiritual parentage. Physically, we are like our parents. We share genetic structure with them. We may be like them in other ways. As children of God, God may carry a picture of us in a wallet.[3] Just as people may make assumptions if you have certain last names, such as Rothschild,[4] Kennedy, and so on, people ought to make assumptions about as children of God. If we are to be like Jesus, we will hang out with and become a partner with people where they are. Yes, gathering with other Christians and teaching each other is important, but truly being with the people of the community is like being one with the God who has become one with us in Christ.[5] Even the Christian in literature can help people become more aware of their status as children of God and return to their divine parent. Literature can help heal painful childhood moments.[6]
I John 3: 4-6 have the theme of Parousia, righteousness, and sin. The author makes a stark contrast between the Son of God and the effects of his work in people, and the Devil and his work in people. Christ has no sin, of course, and the whole purpose of his coming is in taking away sin and destroying the work of the devil. The work of the devil is sin, defined as lawlessness and rebellion against God. Each person has a choice. Each person can do what is right, which means love or sin and keep on sinning, without regard to its denial of the command of God to love. The greatest obstacle to meeting the Parousia with confidence is sin. The main point is that the person who sins and keeps on sinning, with no desire to confess or no sensitivity to the need for forgiveness. 4 Everyone who commits sin (ἁμαρτίαν) is guilty of lawlessness (ἀνομίαν); sin (ἁμαρτία) is lawlessness (ἀνομία). The reference to purity in verse 3 leads John to a discussion of its opposite, sin. In this instance, he defines sin as lawlessness. It is possible that the community had too narrow a view of sin, and, though it is difficult to ascertain what John meant by the term anomia because he uses it nowhere else in the letter, it seems that he wants to assert that one cannot separate sin and lawlessness. One ought not to interpret John's use of the word "lawless" through the lens of the Pauline vocabulary. John does not seem to be talking here about the Jewish law. The lawlessness of which John speaks refers to the anarchy of which the devil and his followers - his "children" – partake. What the elder means by “sin” is unclear. The Gospel of John describes sin as unbelief. In this verse, “lawlessness” is doing what is not right. Sin is not living by the established rules. The writer will note in verse 10 that sin is the failure to love one another. What is clear is that those who are righteous, those who are born of God, have no choice but to act in the way God acts, which means living lives that reflect God’s love. 5 You know that the Father revealed (ἐφανερώθη) Christ to take away (ἄρῃ) sins, and in him, there is no sin.[7] Revelation is another theme in this passage. John reminds them of what they already know, namely that when the Father revealed Christ the first time, he came to take away sin. He who was free of the pollution of sin came to remove it. The writer takes up this term (ἄρῃ) from the gospel of John (1:29, “the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world”). Another theme in this passage, then, is one of revelation. Revelation is past, present and future. In the past, the Father revealed Christ to take away sins (v. 5). In the letters of John, this is the only use of ἄρῃ (to take away) about the removal of sins. 6 No one who abides (μένων) in him sins; no one who sins has either seen him or known him. Here is a major challenge in the interpretation of the text. Is the Christian sinless? Such a notion contradicts the experience of every Christian I know. It also contradicts the assumption in the first two chapters (1:10; 2:11). The interpreter must be careful to notice, however, that John does not depart into an esoteric and theoretical discussion of atonement motifs. Instead, the direct result of the removal of sin is behavioral, namely that those who are in him do not sin. It is here that John’s writing enters a war of contradiction with itself. In the first two chapters, John clearly states that if the readers deny they have sin, they deceive themselves. If they do sin, (the assumption seems to be that they will), they can confess to God and trust Jesus as their advocate. Here, however, in chapter 3, John’s statement is a direct rejection of the assurances of chapters 1 and 2. Not only do those in Christ not sin, but also those who do sin cannot have seen or known Christ. Scholars have postulated that John is trying to maintain a tight balance between some who claim to be perfect and some who continue to remain in sin. It might even be the same group of people — because they are perfect in Christ, their behavior is irrelevant. John asserts that Christians are not perfect, but they should strive to live as purely as possible. Linguistically, when John talks about sin as a mutually exclusive entity excluding one from being in Christ, he uses the present tense verb. Real Christians will make mistakes, but they will not live in a continual pattern of sin. Although John's vocabulary is a bit odd, his insistence, that those who abide in Jesus God saves from lawlessness, echoes other passages describing the new life in Christ which frees the believer from sin. Likewise, John warns that some so-called believers will backslide returning to their pre-grace sinfulness. They will reveal themselves a "child of the devil" (3:8).
Verses 7, part of a segment that extends to verse 10, has the theme of revelation of the children of God and the children of Devil. The Gospel of John has statements suggesting sin was for non-believers and Jesus was the believer’s model. For secessionists, the divine begetting is a once and for all gift. For the author, one expresses divine begetting in behavior. 7Little children (Τεκνία), including those part of the present community, who are children of God, but also the spiritual children of the writer, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right is righteous, just as Christ is righteous. Those who are righteous, those who are born of God, have no choice but to act in the way God acts, which means living lives that reflect God’s love (v. 10). One might ask whether what he has said in 3:4-5 means that Christians should have concern for their behavior. John seems to answer with a resounding “Yes!” He reminds the readers that behavior is not a mystery. It is not the case that once a person and Christ have joined all behavior, no matter what it looks like, becomes pure. He suggests quite the opposite. The one who does righteous acts shows one to be righteous, just as Jesus is righteous. Furthermore, this righteousness is not esoteric, but manifests itself in the love of the community. The author knows that folks who were once trusted can become the source of division.
We need to believe we can be the kind of people God created us to be. Cultivating imagination is an important part of childhood as little ones develop crucial psychological and emotional capacities that help them understand the world and their relation to it. Cultivating a holy imagination is still important for children of God who, at any age, are called to see the present considering the imagined future made possible by Jesus Christ.
Watch a group of young children playing together, and the first thing you will notice is that each of them believes that they are more than they appear to be. Give them a bunch of pillows and blankets, and they are no longer small children, but mighty warriors constructing an impenetrable fortress. Tie a tea towel around their neck and they transform from a mild-mannered kindergartner into an invincible caped crusader. Give them a leftover cardboard tube and suddenly they are a wizard, a musician, or an astronomer scouting the stars.
What looks like simple fun to them is vitally important work in a child’s development. Imaginative play develops important psychological and emotional capacities in children, helping them to learn how to solve problems, create new possibilities, and — most importantly — develop the belief that they can one day change the world. Imagination transcends the limits of the present physical world and the limits of a child’s inner world, opening new ways of seeing and being.
Somewhere along the line, however, imagination begins to become less important than knowledge. As we get older, we tend to be more concerned with what is than what could be. Education gives us amazing tools for learning about the present world and about ourselves, but sometimes that knowledge can begin to impose limits on our imagination and our capacity to think freely. It is not that knowledge is unimportant; it is that knowledge is limited without imagination. Albert Einstein, who most people would consider the avatar for the pursuit of knowledge, once said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited, whereas imagination embraces the entire world … Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.”
What is true for education would also seem to be true for theology and the life of discipleship. We pursue knowledge of the Bible, knowledge of God, knowledge of doctrine — all important things — but sometimes we can become so enamored with that knowledge that we fail to cultivate an imagination of what God is wanting to do in us and through us. Plenty of biblical scholars are not believers, for example. They have knowledge, but no imagination. We need both a solid foundation of the knowledge of God and a holy imagination to live out the vision for eternal life God has for us, both now and in the future.
The writer refers to the readers as children of God and as his little children. I would like us to consider that he is inviting us to cultivate a childlike imagination for the kind of life God has made possible for us in Jesus Christ.
Earlier in the homily, John lays out the difference between the accumulation of knowledge and the imagination that leads to action. It is one thing to have the knowledge of the truth and say, “I am in the light” (John’s metaphor for walking with Christ). But if one cannot use that knowledge to imagine and demonstrate love for one’s brothers and sisters, that one “is in the darkness, walks in the darkness, and does not know the way to go, because the darkness has brought on blindness” (1 John 2:9-11). “Antichrists” had slipped into the community, denying that Jesus is the Christ, and John urges the community to refute that falsehood with their “knowledge” (2:20). But that knowledge had to become activated in their imagination of who Christ is and who he called them to be: “If you know that he is righteous, you may be sure that everyone who does right has been born of him” (2:29).
Those who are born of him are indeed “children of God.” We might say that the children of God are the product of God’s own imagination going all the way back to creation when God created humankind in God’s own image (Genesis 1:26-27). In the prologue to the gospel of John, we read that Jesus, the Word made flesh, is the perfect image of God, the one who has “made him known” to the world” (John 1:18). Those who receive him have been given “power to become children of God, who were born not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:12-13).
All of this is at God’s initiative, out of God’s imagination, and through God’s love. “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are” (1 John 3:1). But we are not merely God’s children now, John goes on to say. We are to imagine something more. “What we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure” (vv. 2-3). In other words, the children of God are to imagine that they can and will become like Jesus, the perfect image of God!
To put it another way, the children of God are to imagine themselves in the person of Jesus Christ and act accordingly. Like children wrapping themselves in the garb of the hero they want to be, we are to “put on Christ,” as Paul imagines in Romans 13:14 and Galatians 3:27. As a child might imagine being a force for pure good in the world, children of God who imagine that they can be like Jesus also “purify themselves just as he is pure” (1 John 3:3).
We come to the part of the passage that seems more like delusion than imagination. “You know that he was revealed to take away sins, and in him there is no sin,” says John. “No one who abides in him sins; no one who sins has either seen him or known him. Little children, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right is righteous, just as he is righteous” (vv. 5-7).
John admits earlier in the homily that sin is still a factor in the life of the believer: “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8). But sin does not have to be the deciding factor. Indeed, the more we imagine ourselves being formed in the image of Christ through disciplines like prayer, immersion in the Scriptures, accountable relationships with other believers, and regular confession of sin, the less sin becomes a nemesis in our lives. As D. Moody Smith puts it, “The work of Christ brings about the birth from God that is freedom from sin, but a freedom that must be ratified continually by willing and doing what is right, as John never tires of urging.”
Reality will settle in upon us. As John said earlier, if we sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. If we confess our sin, he is faithful and just in forgiving us our sin. Reality can be discouraging as we seek to fulfill the calling of God upon our lives to be followers of Christ. At the same time, children of God need to cultivate a healthy imagination for the kind of people God created them to be — people modeled on Jesus Christ, who love God and one another — and then develop the habits and practices that get them there.
This passage invites us to reflect upon sin. Our notions of sin change. However, I would like us to consider some traditional writings that might still help us today.
First, the Middle Ages developed a list of seven sins that it classed as the worst possible kinds of sin. These the seven deadly sins were Pride, Greed, Anger, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth (laziness), Unfaithfulness (adultery).
A range of popular books on the Enneagram (from the Greek ennea, or "nine"), which is a symbol of wholeness, have been part of my life. One such book is Helen Palmer's The Enneagram (Harper, 1988). She uses the number nine for the seven deadly sins, previously mentioned, plus two more: fear, and deceit. She uses the Enneagram model to show how spiritual transformation can occur through dealing with one's predominant compulsion in life. This approach has its basis in the belief that each person has one primary drive, or "besetting sin," which is the principal force in determining that person's personality (though it does not mean that other sins are not present and active in the individual). Such a view is consistent with the theological notion of original sin. We all need transformation, even if the primary area of our lives that needs transformation differs. One example from Palmer's book is the sin of "sloth" or indolence. Such persons are those who major in minors, such as too much TV, food, trivial pursuits, while neglecting their real needs. They are good-natured, but undisciplined. The gift of the risen Christ to this personality type does not destroy their good-natured quality, but places within them a new desire for action and responsibility. In each case (or sin), Palmer shows how abiding in Christ can transform each number in the Enneagram, thereby adding to the Body of Christ while maintaining one’s own unique presence and being.
Second, consider the possibility that evil is banal. Hannah Arendt, the philosopher, attended the trial of Adolf Eichman in Jerusalem back in 1958. Sitting through all the long sessions of the trial, the impression gradually grew on her that Eichmann's evil was rooted in something very banal ... in "thoughtlessness." Eichmann, she concluded, felt no guilt, because he thought that all he did was part of "the fateful struggle of the German people," and along with others at the trial, viewed himself as "an innocent executor of some mysteriously foreordained destiny." This kind of "thoughtless" behavior that Arendt saw as resulting from Eichmann's excusing of himself; can confuse anyone who looks upon sinful actions in an unrealistic way.
Third, reflect upon the possibility that sin is an always-present human reality. Can a believer ever be free of sin? Some notables thought not. Martin Luther caved into our sinful nature and sighed, "Trust God and sin on bravely." Augustine seemed to say something similar in an "anything goes" remark when he said a Christian should "love, and do what he wants."
Yet, the epistle writer John says that no one who abides in Christ sins; no one who sins has either seen or known Christ. If we connect such statements with what he said in Chapters 1-2, where he assumes Christians sin, we might think of Chapter 3 in the following way. Suppose you go to a new school that has a fine tradition or a good name. You do something out of keeping with that reputation. Someone in authority says something like, “That sort of thing is not done here.” The literalist might say that the statement is wrong. After all, you are in the school and you have done it. However, the literalist is missing the point of the rebuke, which is to point conduct that does not fit being here. John is saying something like that about the Christian community. Christ died to take away sin, so certain behavior is not consistent with being part of the community devoted to Christ.[8]
A traditional hymn is, "The King of Love my Shepherd is." I particularly like the verse that says,
Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, But yet in love He sought me,
And on His shoulder gently laid, And home, rejoicing brought me.
Perhaps--like me--you have a past that includes sins of thought and action that you have come to realize were wrong. You have found that God does willingly carry us home to the consciousness of redeeming love.
[1] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 3, 531, 603.
[2] Barth, Church Dogmatics II.2 [37.3] 608.
[3] —Sociology professor Tony Campolo, quoted by Jeanette Clift George, “Dad meets the messy baby,” Men of Integrity, January 18, 2000, ChristianityToday.com.
[4] —Nina Utne, “What’s in a name?” Utne, November-December 2002, 12.Used by permission. When I was growing up, my surname was Rothschild. My grandfather used to say that we were the “Brooklyn branch” of the fabulously wealthy European bankers. If there is a family connection, we never found it, but people nonetheless made a lot of assumptions because of the name. I learned that it was useful for making restaurant reservations.
[5] —Janet Wolf, “Ministry with all God’s children,” New World Outlook, gbgm-umc.org. Retrieved December 5, 2002. The church is very good at doing things for people, but we are not very good at proximity and partnership. There is a big difference between dragging folks into your soup kitchen and simply hanging out with them on the street corner. There is a difference between bringing others into the church so that they can be like you and becoming immersed in someone else’s struggle.
Things change for you when you hang out with people and become partners with them. Suppose you are tutoring children in a low-income neighborhood. When you begin to see that your pupils are gifted, bright, talented children, yet realize that many of them are flunking out of school, it pushes you to challenge and change the public school system. When you begin to know people’s hopes and fears, dreams and struggles, you move into the fight for justice.
If you redefine everything in light of this new priority — being present with people and in partnership with them, being concerned with justice rather than just charity — everything changes. Children’s ministry becomes redefined as ministry with all God’s children — the children hanging out on the streets, not just those that an adult brings to church.
[6] -Suzanne St. Yves, "Into the Depths of the Human Heart: Madeleine L'Engle's Search for God," November 9, 1999, www2.ari.net/bsabath/950331.html. Whatever the literary genre, [Madeleine] L'Engle upholds that a writer's responsibility is to radiate hope, to bring healing, to say yes to life. Her works wrestle with the unanswerable questions of life and death, God and darkness. In Walking on Water, a superb book about how faith and art influence one another, L'Engle argues that there is a "chief difference between the Christian and the secular artist - the purpose of the work, be it story or music or painting, is to further the coming of the Kingdom, to make us aware of our status as children of God, and to turn our feet toward home." Her stories accomplish this primarily through her characters, real or fictional. Readers develop relationships with them, discussing them with other L'Engle fans as if they were chatting about friends. As L'Engle proposes in Walking on Water, "We all want to be able to identify with the major characters in a book - to live, suffer, dream and grow through vicarious experience." Readers can heal their own painful childhood moments just as the female teenage protagonists who are believable, ordinary girls struggle with their growing up years.
[7] A textual addition present in some early (Sinaiticus and Ephraemi Syri Rescriptus) and most late manuscripts adds that Jesus came to take away our sins, but because of the textual evidence against it and John’s earlier assertion that Jesus came to take away the sin of the world (2:2), many think it seems an unnecessary limiting addition. The statement shows how this seemingly new topic is actually closely related to the previous discussion about the revelation of Christ.
[8] (F.F. Bruce, The Epistles of John, p. 90, Eerdmans) When a boy goes to a new school, and does something out of keeping with the school's tradition or good name, he is told immediately, "That isn't done here." A literalist might reply, "But obviously it is done; this boy has just done it"--but he would be deliberately missing the point of the rebuke. The point is that such conduct is disapproved of in this school, so anyone who practices it can normally be assumed not to belong to the school. So it is in belonging to the family of God; sin "just isn't done here." Fellowship with the sinless One and indulgence in sin are a contradiction in terms. Whatever high claims may be made by one who indulges in sin, that indulgence is sufficient proof that that one has no personal knowledge of Christ.
Good thoughts. Particularly liked the school analogy
ReplyDeleteSeems there is always a tension between come as you are and changing
ReplyDelete