John 10:11-18

John 10:11-18

¹¹ "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. ¹² The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away-- and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. ¹³ The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. ¹⁴ I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, ¹⁵ just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. ¹⁶ I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. ¹⁷ For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. ¹⁸ No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father."

John 10:11-18 is part of a segment that includes John 10:1-21. 

It is the aftermath of Jesus at the Feast of Tabernacles with the theme of Jesus as sheepgate and shepherd. It occurs between the Feast of Tabernacles in September to October and the Feast of Dedication in December.  The segment looks forward to the transition to the Feast of Dedication in 10:26-27.  John envisions the same audience as that of Chapter 9, namely, the Pharisees.  This section is a figurative attack on the Pharisees.  Thus, the theme of attacking Jewish authorities continues from Chapter 9.

John 10: 11-16 is a discussion of the shepherd image in the parable we find in verses 1-5. As Jesus puts this image out for consideration, placing it in the context of John's gospel is crucial. Chapter 9 is the detailed story of the miracle of Jesus giving sight to a man born blind. Chapter 10 concludes his opponents accusing Jesus of blasphemy and moves toward one of the high points of John's gospel: the death and subsequent raising of Lazarus. Jesus is heading for the ultimate tragedy in Jerusalem, and the theme of death - especially his own death - recurs in his parables and statements. Jesus' popularity is increasing, and the number of his followers continues to grow, peaking with the feeding of 5,000 (John 6), thus making the religious authorities more fearful and determined to eliminate Jesus.

¹¹ "I am [Ἐγώ εἰμι] the good shepherd. 

“I am” begins this section. This emphatic phrase has the force of stressing the "I" (compare John 6:35 "bread of life" and 8:12 "light of the world"). The stress of "I" attests to the special relationship Jesus has with his followers, and distances the religious leaders as those blind to the peoples' needs. When Jesus makes his declarative "I am" statements, he is offering a symbolic discourse that freely mixes both symbolic and straightforward language.  John's gospel is sometimes known as the "I Am" gospel for a reason (for the "I am" statements see 6:35, 51; 8:12, 24, 58; 10:7, 9; 11:25; 14:6; 15:1, 5). The straightforwardness and forcefulness of these "I am" declarations reveal glimpses of Jesus that John clearly intends to suggest his divinity. These self-disclosures stress the uniqueness of Jesus' mission and identity, leading the listener toward Jesus' self-revelation.  While the images are familiar sheep, gatekeepers, shepherds their radical disclosure opened Jesus and his followers to accusations of heresy, of di theism, by Jewish leaders. In the two verses immediately preceding, Jesus declares himself the only doorway to salvation and abundant life (10:9-10). Obviously, the Jewish establishment viewed such a message as a direct attack on their unique relationship between God and the chosen people of God. 

The Good Shepherd is an ideal model. In the Old Testament tradition, if one was a good shepherd, one was in the tradition of the Patriarchs, Moses, and David.  Such an image has deep connections with the Jewish scripture. During the Babylonian exile, Isaiah 40:11 offers comfort in the hope of a new Exodus with the Lord as the shepherd, leading the sheep (people) home. Likewise, Jeremiah uses the image of the future "good" shepherding of the Lord, which he contrasts against the irresponsible shepherding that Israel's present kings (shepherds) are offering. The Good Shepherd can provide comprehensive care for his sheep, as Psalm 23 also notes. The other gospels also report Jesus speaking of himself as a shepherd - see Matthew 18:12-14; Luke 15:3-7 - but John most fully develops the image. The language of good shepherding during a time to remember false shepherds conjures images of Ezekiel 34. In Ezekiel 34:1-10, the prophet recounts a period of bad shepherds who fatten themselves, take the wool for clothing, and fail to care for the sheep. These shepherds lead with force and harshness with no concern to help the weak, fallen, injured, strayed, or lost. Because of such poor leadership, the sheep of Israel scatter, becoming prey for wild animals and lack any hope of rescue. In Ezekiel 34:11-31, however, God himself decides to search for his sheep, to gather the flock, and to attend to the weak and injured. Though imagery of God as nurturer and caregiver is prominent in the text, the language of judgment is even more overt. The necessity of the Lord to take the role of the Good Shepherd indicates the presence of false leaders and selfish hirelings. Moreover, in Ezekiel 34:17-22, the Lord must judge between the sheep and must purge the flock of those who do not belong to him. Thus, Jesus’ claim to be the Good Shepherd in the midst of the festival season suggests that, once again, there is a need for such a Good Shepherd to arise (consider John 2:13-22). Jesus’ words to the Jews who are questioning his identity in 10:26-27 sounds more like an indictment: “But you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” The fact that Jewish authorities did not recognize what God was doing in Jesus to fulfill the promises of the Scripture, and especially to become Christ, the Davidic-like Servant whom God will make Shepherd (Ezekiel 34:23-24), makes it painfully obvious that they do not even recognize a Good Shepherd when they see one. Little wonder that others hear these "I am" statements as first century fighting words. 

The comforting, consoling image of Jesus as the "good shepherd" as described here was among the most problematic and polemical for first century believers. The rural images used by Jesus - such as "the good shepherd" (v. 11) - do not always translate into modern life. Most people today have never seen a shepherd, except in photographs and Christmas pageants. Most people today have never seen a good-sized flock of sheep, and if they have, a fence was managing the sheep rather than a shepherd. 

If Jesus were the Good Shepherd, the allegory would conclude that Christian men, women, boys, and girls are the sheep. Therefore, this is a call to "followership." Throughout the New Testament, Jesus calls on people to listen and believe - but above all, Jesus calls people to follow him. 

Verses 11b-13 is the first explanation of the notion that Jesus the good or model shepherd. Jesus follows his claim to being a "good shepherd" by defining the first characteristic such a shepherding one bears. The good (καλός) or "model," "ideal" or even "noble," shepherd lays down his life (vv. 11, 15, 17, 18, emphasizing that Jesus' actions are a result of his own initiative) for the sheep. John is responding to those challenging the early church by reminding them that a responsible and impartial judge did not have Jesus executed. Jesus laid down his own life. The theme of dying is abrupt, there being no suggestion of this in the parable of verses 1-5.  Note Mark 14:27 and John 21:15-19.  The parable of the lost sheep shows the trouble a shepherd will take for a lost sheep.  Here, the risk extends to death. ¹² The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming, leaves the sheep, and runs away-- and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. ¹³ The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. The image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is a call for us to follow him. We do so when we recognize the dangers to spiritual life in this world and allow Jesus to protect us from them. The Good Shepherd is one willing to protect the sheep, even at the expense of his own life. He is ready to chase the wolves. In modern society, those who follow Jesus may very well hear the call to step into this role, to stand up to wolves and protect the sheep of God. This is the Good Shepherd not as opposed to a "bad" shepherd, but as distinguished from the simply average or minimal shepherding that another would offer. The difference between the two is easily described by Jesus' reference to "hireling" one with no personal investment in the sheep. The hireling abandons the sheep to save his own hide at the first sign of a threat, while the Good Shepherd willingly "lays down his life" to safeguard the flock.  The text stresses the greatness of Jesus' commitment in his mention that he will even die for the sheep.

To be sure, this language of shepherding was a rich metaphor for a first-century audience. The evangelist combines the teaching of the Good Shepherd with the imagery of the sheep gate (10:1-9). The gate protects the sheep both from the dangers of a robber coming into the fold and from the danger of sheep escaping it. Following the teaching of the Good Shepherd is a controversy with Jews during the Feast of Dedication in Jerusalem resulting in the recognition that those who do not believe in Jesus are not his sheep (10:22-39). The theme of “sheep” connects the teachings of the Good Shepherd and Gate to this controversy at the Feast of Dedication. The mention of this detail of timing amid Jesus’ teaching is important.

Though many modern readers have difficulty understanding the role of a shepherd, the audience of John’s gospel was familiar with the toils of shepherding. They knew the risk of life in protecting the flock from wild animals, the constant hassle of keeping sheep from wandering off, the long days of herding and leading helpless animals to necessary food and water in a barren land. Certainly, most people today have never seen a flock of sheep in a state of panic as wolves move among them, seeking the choice lambs of the flock. This was no easy task. Yet, John tells us that amidst all the perils and loneliness of such a chore, Jesus is the Good Shepherd.

The intention of the writer is to highlight the gathering of the community of faith in Jesus, its close relationship to Jesus, the shepherd, and its separated character from false teachers. His intention holds both for the situation during the active ministry of Jesus and that of his own time. He presents the riddle right at the start in relation to the non-believers, who because of it remain, uncomprehending, so that he himself can thereupon disclose its essential content to the believing community through new Christological words. Seen in this light, we can state more clearly the riddle’s relationship to the following revelatory words in “I” style.  We can say that it was not a pre-existing parable from which, as from a reservoir, the writer fashioned his Christological images; rather, John has consciously related to them for the outset, the material condensed into it and which it shapes into a pastoral scene with an enigmatical meaning is then unfolded in the light of the intended perspective. He does take up all the features of the image. Instead, he gives only a number prominence and interprets them. Moreover, he introduces new ones according as they fit in with the Christological purpose in view. In both cases, the twofold aspect is discernible and acts as the guiding principle behind both arrangement and structure.

The distinguishing mark of the hired hand is that he does not care for the sheep in the way the good shepherd does. It may well be that the school of Christ is the school of love and caring. In the final examination that each of us will have after death, we will receive no question regarding our interpretation of a philosophical text. The whole syllabus will consist of love.[1]

Charles Swann pays a call on his friends the Duke and Duchess of Guermantes, who are preparing to leave for an evening of entertainment.  Always looking for future diversions, the duchess insists that Swann, who she admits does not look at all well, accompany them on their next trip to Venice.  "But, my dear lady, I shall then have been dead for several months."  The duchess' carriage is waiting.  Her husband begs her to hurry.  Caught between the demands of her social life and the confession of a dying man, the duchess chooses not to hear.  "You must be joking," she says and steps toward her carriage.  The duke notices a terrible fashion error; she has shoes that do not match her red dress.  While there is no time to comfort a dying man, the carriage waits for her change to her shoes.[2]  

For many of us, only our lives matter.  The suffering of others is beyond our ability to care.  We escape the demands made by friendship or love.  Our hearts remain closed; our imaginations refuse to reach outside narrow limits.

The hired hand cannot care for the sheep. The shepherd who had led his sheep to pasture now proves himself their true keeper, their good shepherd in times of danger. It is as a contrasting figure that John introduces the hireling or paid shepherd afresh. The imagery itself demands it, and John intends it to exclude all other claimants to the title of shepherd, in the same way as rejects thieves, robbers, and strangers respectively. The Pharisees would be the hired hand who betrays the flock.  Note Matthew 10:16, "I send you like sheep amid wolves."  With no financial or emotional investment in these animals, hired hands have little incentive to stand by the helpless sheep when danger threatens.  The good shepherd, on the other hand, is closely bound to his flock.

Verses 14-16 repeat the affirmation that ¹⁴ I am the good shepherd. When Jesus states the second time that he is the Good Shepherd, he brings to the reader's attention a new but related thought. Jesus once again defines himself as the "good shepherd" but now declares that this title requires a unique three-step degree of familiarity from Father to Son to flock. I know my own and my own know me, ¹⁵ just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. This involves intimate awareness that one demonstrates in the love and commitment between two parties. The "knowledge" shared between God, Jesus and the "sheep" who know their "shepherd" should not be thought of as some special esoteric gnosis necessary for salvation. All that the sheep "know" is their faith in the Good Shepherd's unfaltering love and compassion. This is "knowledge" only in that it is knowledge of faithfulness. Further, I lay down my life for the sheep. What the Father "knows," what the sheep "know," is that Jesus as the Good Shepherd, the one in perfect accordance with God's own will, gladly lays down his life for the sheep.  The relationship between the Father and the Son is one replicated in Jesus and his followers. The reason that the Father loves the Son is not because the Son goes to the cross. It is because the crucifixion expresses the unity of the Father and the Son. 

John presents to the reader the glory of the mediator. Jesus is the light of life. He is the shepherd who guides the sheep and the voice the sheep hear.[3] To follow this shepherd will require knowing him well enough that you can discern his voice. This type of following is a choice of what you do with your life. Some people will offer as an excuse that they had no other choice, no way out, or no alternative. Some might think of humanity as more like the tools of history, powerless before their fate or destiny. They might think of history as the unconscious universal that uses our lives for its purpose. Napoleon might view himself as acting of his volition, imposing will upon his people. Yet, the grip of some inevitable force may actually have compelled him to accomplish his destiny.[4]

Yet, Jesus speaks of his choice to lay down his life. He speaks of our choice to affirm him as our good shepherd. He speaks of us knowing him so well that we can discern his voice.     In 1943, the French Philosopher Jean Paul Sartre wrote Being and Nothingness. In that book, Sartre asserted that the thing that makes us human, that which separates us from the animals, is our ability to choose. In every circumstance in life, we have the freedom to choose. Even when we do not realize we are choosing, we are choosing, said Sartre. All circumstances in life, even those that have great constriction, offer us room for choice. We create our lives. That we exist as finite beings is obvious. We do not truly exist as human beings until we experience the freedom of our choice.

At one point in Being and Nothingness, Sartre is having a conversation in a French café. French philosophers then spent lots of time sitting in cafes and philosophizing. He sees a very officious waiter bustling about from table to table. The waiter is the sort of stereotypical French waiter – pompous, proud, and a bit contemptuous of the customers. As he moves from table to table, Sartre says to his companion, “That man is trying to be a waiter. He is turning himself into a thing, a waiter.” Each little movement of his eyes, each movement of his hands, the way he walks, all of this represents choice. This man, who could be any number of human beings, is turning himself into a waiter. He is choosing to be one form of human existence and not another. Of course, extraordinarily little of this is in the consciousness of the waiter. He does not know that he is busy deciding. That is not really the point. The point is that he is deciding; he is moving his life in one direction and not another. 

Across the café sits a couple, talking about this and that, drinking cups of coffee. A young man reaches across the table and puts his hand upon the hand of the girl. She does not pull her hand away. She glances briefly at his hand, touching hers, and she continues to talk. Sartre says she has also chosen; she has decided. She did not think about it, did not agonize over it, but she is entering a relationship with this man, through her actions, or lack of actions. Even not to choose is therefore to choose. Through our choices, we are becoming certain sorts of people. We are shutting doors and opening other ones. 

A Nazi SS officer, when asked why he participated in the killing of a town full of Jews in World War II, explains, “I was an officer. I had to obey orders. I had no other way.” Sartre disagreed. There is always another way. To walk down one road is to choose not to walk down other roads. Much of our lives, says Sartre, is an attempt to evade responsibility for our lives. We evade, make excuses for ourselves, saying, “This is the only thing I could do in this situation.” That is usually a lie. What we are saying is that I choose this alternative because it was the easiest, would cause me less pain, or required less risk of me. Still, I made a choice. More accurately, we ought not to say, “I had no other way.” What we ought to say is, “There were other ways that I could travel, but all of them I felt to be unbearably difficult, so I went this way.”

Victor Frankl’s, Man’s Search for Meaning contains his account of living in a Nazi concentration camp with his family. Many of his fellow prisoners fell into complete despair. They had lost everything, stripped of their human dignity, treated like the lowest of the animals. Little wonder then that some prisoners sat down and died. Frankl noted the deaths of a number of prisoners who were not particularly ill, or who had not received ill-treatment. They just simply stopped living – laid down and died. He spoke about their resignation to their “fate.” They had no other way out, little hope of escape from the prison, and so they died rather than lived. Of course, they died because of the Nazi cruelty that put them there. Yet, they also died through their choice. They decided to quit. Frankl took another way. Each day, walking out to the work site, he thought of a book that he had been writing. He composed the book in his mind, chapter by chapter. In his mind, he went back over the various aspects of the book. He thought of his wife. He pictured their good times in the past, he fanaticized about the future they would have together. He survived. His survival was not only a miraculous act of God, but also due to his own conscious efforts. 

Our choice, our ability in every situation to choose, is one of God’s greatest gifts to us. In a sense, creation is not finished. The story of our creation in Genesis says that God has made us fellow workers, co-creators. That means that there is still something left to do in the creation of the world. We create through our choices. We can say yes and we can say no. We can take one road and not another. In a sense, we do not really exist until we choose. In a sense, not to choose, merely to let our lives drift along, is to be unfaithful to the great gift of life that God has given us. When I choose, when I walk down one road and not another, particularly if it is a difficult and demanding road, it is my way of giving my thanks to God for the gift of life and its freedom. It is my doxology, by way of praising God for life as God has given it to me. 

People can be in horrendous situations, and yet, we can see them choose to shape and create life. They could surrender to their fate, but they do not. They take hold of the dimension of freedom they can in that moment. We choose how to live through debilitating sickness. We can do so with resentment, self-pity, and anger. We can also do with dignity, cheerfulness, and gratitude. 

As Sartre might put it, we have no excuses. We have chosen to live our lives the way we did rather than another way. 

“Thy will be done,” says the one who comes to the final examination of their lives and places their lives in the hand of God. “Thy will be done,” says God to those who have chosen Hell for their destination.[5]

¹⁶ I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold (αὐλῆς, a building with an interior courtyard; an uncovered, walled area that is enclosed but without a roof; an open-air (interior) courtyard of a mansion or palace.). I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. Therefore, there will be one flock (ποίμνη), one shepherd. Jesus is aware that the Father is to lead to him other people besides that will believe through the word of the disciples. For some, the sentiment of this verse is troublesome amid this picture of the Good Shepherd. The "other sheep" suggests Jesus' sacrifice is just as much for these others as for those already in the fold.  This revelation has a history of varied interpretation within church tradition. Who are the other sheep? Most scholars believe that this is making a distinction between Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians, but others theorize that this means other Christian congregations beyond the Johannine community. Today, many use this as an ecumenical imperative (compare Ephesians 2:11-22; 4:1-6), reflecting that Jesus is not the Good Shepherd for just a single expression of Christianity, but for all expressions of the faith. It may also have been part of the conviction of the early Christian community that worldwide mission must be the result of Jesus' death and resurrection. Other flocks must learn of this Good Shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep. The other sheep introduces the Gentile mission.  The church struggled to understand the implication of Jesus' statements concerning the conversion of the Gentiles.  The Old Testament has the image of shepherd, Moses and David as examples, as well as kings receiving the label of wicked shepherds.  Ezekiel provides the background for this imagery, rejecting Bultmann's insistence on Mandean parallels.  The Greek clearly distinguishes between Jesus' reference to "this fold" and the "one flock" that his voice will call together.[6]  The difference suggested by the two terms was significant for first century Christians and is equally instructive for 21st century Christians as well. A sheep "fold" was a separated, walled enclosure in which shepherds gathered their flocks for safekeeping during the night. In other words, a "fold" had definite boundaries and size limitations. A "flock," on the other hand, could refer to any number of sheep. "Flocks" were scattered and distributed over wide areas and different terrain. The text distinguishes between the one "fold" that now exists and the one "flock" that the Good Shepherd gathers with his voice.[7] For first century Christians, notably members of the Johannine community listening to this text, the gathered flock surely suggested the inclusion of Gentile believers, those clearly outside the fold of Jewish chosenness, but now called by the Good Shepherd's voice. For 21st century Christians, the distinction between those of one "fold" and those whose response in faith makes them part of the larger "flock" suggests that denominational, cultural, and even theological variances may exist if they are within the sound of the shepherd's voice.  The point of this text is to speak positively of a wider mission for the church, as it depicts the other sheep as anxious to listen to Jesus' voice. 

We also need to consider the possibility of salvation without a personal encounter with Christ. If we consider Matthew 25:31-46, the message of Jesus is the standard of judgment. We need to put behind us any unfair particularism in the idea that for all of us, salvation depends on our fellowship with Jesus Christ. A personal encounter with Jesus through the Christian message and a response of faith to it is not the universal criterion for participation in salvation or exclusion from it, especially if we take seriously what the New Testament says about the love that God has for the world that embraces all people. Making eternal salvation dependent upon an historical and contingent factor would hardly be evidence of such love. In their case, what counts is whether their individual conduct agrees with the will of God that Jesus proclaimed. The promise of salvation contained in a passage like this may have contained a promise to Gentiles, but it has a greater breadth than that. It has a universal perspective. The advantage of the Christian in the future judgment is that they have the advantage that they know the standard for participation in eternal salvation and the standard of judgment.[8]

Verses 17-18 concern “laying down his life.”  ¹⁷ For this reason, the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. ¹⁸ No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father." Thus, even when John depicts the resurrection as the act of Son, it is in obedience to the Father rather than an independent act of power.[9] This time, when the Good Shepherd is willing to lay down his life for the sheep, it is so that he can take it up again. One can see this new thought, that the purpose of Jesus' death is the resurrection, elsewhere in John's gospel. He binds the crucifixion and resurrection together, and Christ's death is in obedient love to God's will. Jesus is not powerless. He lays down his life freely, in order that he may retake it. The purpose of this intimate knowledge is to bring these followers into union with one another. However, this special relationship between sheep and shepherd mirrors the same kind of commitment and knowledge that exists between Jesus and the Father "as the Father knows me and I know the Father."  The Good Shepherd reclaims his life, and he saves the lives of his sheep. One of Jesus' most impressive "signs" is to bring Lazarus back to life. Life: That one-syllable word threads its way throughout the gospel. The Good Shepherd comes to offer life, but his own people reject the offer. Instead, Jesus prepares to give up his own life, and he makes the ultimate sacrifice on the cross, the paramount sacrifice that the Good Shepherd would be prepared to make to save the lives of his sheep. Some feel uncomfortable with the purpose being "to take it up again."  Nevertheless, the resurrection is the completion of the death of Jesus.  Here, Jesus takes up his life.  Normally it is the Father.  Later Trinitarian theology would capitalize on this attribution of the Father and Son having the same power. Resurrection is Jesus' last work; the last command the Father has given him.  Jesus concludes this "I am" declaration here by defining once again the unique and unrepeatable nature of the relationship between himself and the Father. The love God extends to Jesus flows from a common will and complete obedience. The text firmly grounds the obedience of Jesus in his own freedom to act. The NRSV's marginal translation "No one takes [my life] from me" articulates this freedom the best. Speaking as both the present Jesus and the future risen Christ, this verse reveals that the power both to lay down and once again take up his life comes to Jesus through a special divine relationship a "charge" received from God the Creator.

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[1] "The school of Christ is the school of charity.  On the last day, when the general examination takes place, there will be no questions at all on the text of Aristotle, the aphorisms of Hippocrates, or paragraphs from Justinian.  Charity will be the whole syllabus." 17th-century saint, Robert Bellarmine

[2]           Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past.

[3] Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.3 [96.2] 95.

[4] In the epilogue (‘Part Two’) of Tolstoy, War and Peace.

[5] C. S. Lewis wrote in The Great Divorce.

[6] Yet, in Jerome rendered both terms as olvile "fold" in the Latin Vulgate, making Jesus' statement a contrast between "this fold" and the "one fold" of the future. As a result, most Medieval Latin writers, who depended on the Vulgate, continued to express both these references with the same word ovile, "fold." Augustine, Wycliffe, Erasmus and eventually the King James Version of 1611 all continued to carry forward this mistranslation.

[7]  Thus, the image is far more inclusive than Jerome's Vulgate translation suggests.

[8] Pannenberg Systematic Theology Volume 3, 615-6.

[9] Pannenberg Systematic Theology Volume 2, 346.

I John 3:16-24

I John 3:16-24

¹⁶ We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us-- and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. ¹⁷ How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? ¹⁸ Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. ¹⁹ And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him ²⁰ whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. ²¹ Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God; ²² and we receive from him whatever we ask, because we obey his commandments and do what pleases him. ²³ And this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. ²⁴ All who obey his commandments abide in him, and he abides in them. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit that he has given us.

          I John 3:16-24 is part of a larger segment that began in verse 11, having the theme of the gospel of loving one another. 

            How can we know love? Like Cain in Genesis 4, we so quickly go down the path of hate. Like Judas, we choose the path of grasping at material things and closing our hearts to those in need. The possibility of hoarding within oneself the love we have received from God in the forms of the material things necessary for life is always there. Yet, if the love of God properly abides in us, it will not remain closed off from others. Instead, transformed by the love of God, we will act with compassion toward others in need. We need to learn love from Jesus. He gave his life for us. The gift of eternal life comes from this act of love. This act of love becomes an active force in our lives. Giving our lives for others involves compassionate hearts and loving deeds to those in need. In fact, we cannot separate our love for God and our love for others.

            How can we know love? If we are earnest and serious in our Christian discipleship, we may judge ourselves harshly. We see the gaps in our lives between what we believe and how we live. We know we fail in genuine love. Yet, God knows us better than we know ourselves, and God forgives us. If we deal harshly with ourselves, we need to remember how merciful God is.  

            In fact, the love of God is the only reason we can have confidence before God in prayer. Such confidence arises, not because we obey God so well, but because God is so merciful. Keeping commandments and pleasing God are important in Christian life. Far from legalism, the focus is on one's whole way of life, of which faith is the total commitment of one’s life to God and love is the motivating force of one’s life. The gift of the Spirit is the way in which Christ abides in us. We abide in Christ as we live in trust and love.

¹⁶ We know love (ἀγάπην) by the pattern Jesus established, that he laid down his life for us, so his death was “for us”-- and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. Thus, the author turns to the positive example of Christ, in contrast to Cain. The act of love by Jesus in his dying for us contains an obligation upon those who follow Jesus to live a life that expresses love as well. ¹⁷ How does God's love abide (μένει) in anyone who has the world's goods (βίον τοῦκόσμου), sees a brother or sister (ἀδελφὸν) in need and yet refuses help (κλείσῃ τὰ σπλάγχνα αὐτοῦ)[1]? The love God has for us abides within, but it will transform us in ways that lead us toward compassionate acts towards others. The specific concern for the poor is part of the Jewish heritage. The observation suggests those who left the community were the wealthy ones. The opponents of John may have wondered if their poverty would drive others to join them. Within the language of the Johannine literature, this obligation is toward other members of the faith community.  One can find similar calls for sharing one’s material possessions with fellow Christians elsewhere in the New Testament (cf. Acts 4:34-35; James 2:15-16). Indeed, a proven effective means of evangelization is compassionate sharing of our possessions with those in need when it is at the same time made clear that these charitable acts arise not from ourselves but from the love of God that abides in us. One can understand these verses as a reflection on John 15:13-15, where on the night before his crucifixion Jesus tells his disciples that their relationship to one another is the binding love between friends, and that “no one has greater love than … to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Certainly, within that narrative context, “laying down one’s life” for another is quite direct and literal, and it is that self-sacrificial act that the letter refers to when it says simply, “he laid down his life for us.”  Does it follow, then, that the recipients are likewise literally to sacrifice their lives in response to their obligation to “lay down [their] lives for one another”? Without denying the possibility that such circumstances might arise, this letter makes it clear that such literal self-sacrifice is not the primary moral obligation in view. Nor is it content to permit an abstract “willingness” to act in such a way under extreme circumstances to suffice. He defines the giving of one’s life for others as the compassionate offer of oneself and one’s possessions to other members of the community of faith. So obvious is this obligation to the author that he is dumbfounded by the very thought that anyone might claim to have God’s love within and fail to meet others’ needs. 

Verses 18-22 have the theme of assurance before of God of those who belong to the truth.  ¹⁸ Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. The point is not just sincerity versus hypocrisy, but that claiming to belong to the truth manifests itself in deeds of love, not in hate. Nor is it the case that the only ones who benefit from such acts of compassion are the recipients of the charity. By demonstrating love not only by “words” but also by “actions”, we prove to ourselves as well as to others that our relationship with God has transformed us. Much more is at stake than just a warm, fuzzy feeling. ¹⁹ In addition, by this, we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure as in knowledge or proof our hearts (καρδίαν) before him ²⁰ whenever our hearts condemn us in knowledge or proof. The heart is the seat of the intellect rather than emotion. We can see this because God is greater than our hearts, and God knows everything. Thus, the contrast between the intellectual assurance or condemnation provided by the heart is that God knows everything. In each instance, what is at stake is knowledge about us. Knowledge of the truth can help us in two cases. One in that our hearts condemn us with some sin, and yet God knows it all and forgives. Two, it gives assurance where our hearts are free of sin. This thought is like that of 2:2. This may have been necessary because opponents would have cast doubts on the status of the author because of the importance of deeds in the teaching of the author. ²¹ Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, giving us certainty in our relationship with God, we have boldness before God.  ²² In addition,we receive from God whatever we ask, because we obey his commandments (our actions are in accord with the will of God) and do what pleases him (and thus arise from a loving, mutual relationship with God). This knowledge provides not only the “boldness” to ask God for what we need but also forms the substance of those requests in keeping with what will be pleasing to God. God is so gracious toward those who struggle with sin that God gives whatever they ask. The text does not suggest merit, in answering prayers. It is part of the covenant relationship.

We love in action when we give our time. One of the greatest gifts we give to each other is time. When you give a spouse, a parent, a child, a friend, or a stranger, your time, you have given something you cannot get back. That time is gone. We need to treasure the gift of time as those who receive this gift from others. In fact, we see it around here, in funeral dinners, in people who set up this room, in people who volunteer for Upward Soccer. We see people willingly sacrificing time for others, setting aside time they could have used on themselves.

We see love in action as people give generously of their treasure. People enable this congregation to make disciples for Jesus Christ to transform the world when they regularly give to the ministries of this congregation. People help us fulfill the vision of helping people believe in Christ, grow in their faith, and go into the world to love as Jesus loved, as we give of our treasure. 

People are difficult. We know that. Sometimes, we are the difficult ones.

O Perfect Love is a study of John Wesley. On page 27, Wesley writes of the ignorance of people, the mistakes we make, the things that tempt us, and even physical infirmities that oppress the soul. The point is, we are finite human beings, and therefore, find it difficult to put love into practice.

Further, the root of bitterness can be deep within us. It may arise from a parent treating us in an awful way. It may be through an experience of divorce or betrayal later in life. We cherish the bitterness until it becomes anger that affects every area of our lives. It can make it difficult to love.

Ruth Haley Barton, in Sacred Rhythms (2008, p. 118) suggests several reasons. Love is inconvenient. Love is rarely efficient. Love is complicated. It would be far easier to list pros and cons and do whatever is rationally obvious. Love challenges our self-centeredness. Love may call us to give more of ourselves than we want to give. Love makes us vulnerable, and therefore opens us to hurt. Love is always risky. It carries with it no guarantees. 

On many occasions, we find it easier to fight. I suppose we need to be prepared to fight when the time is right. However, I wonder if the Christian world has not gotten far too quick to fight. 

²³ Further, this is the commandment of God first, that we should believe in the name of the Son of God, Jesus Christ. Belief in the Gospel of John is a work, shaped in controversy, because of the necessity of public confession. At a minimal level, it identifies the object of one’s belief or trust. It indicates an effect accomplished in uttering the name, making belief a consequence of calling on the name. Christ is the source and object of our ability to believe.[2] This idea of the mutuality of trust and loving action between the believer and Christ forms the conclusion. In addition, second, we are to love one another, just as Jesus has commanded us. ²⁴ All who obey the commandments of God abide in God, and God abides in them. Further, by this we know that God abides in us, by the Spirit (Πνεύματος) that God has given us.Just as God has made Christ to abide within us through the gift of the Spirit, so also we abide in Christ as well through the gift of loving actions toward others in response to God’s command. Abiding in John is a way of being, not just an experience we have, nor a disposition. We have our truest reality in abiding, in which we are to see and understand ourselves in truth. We are to remain who we are. We are in Christ of whom we have heard. We are really in Christ.[3] The text continues the comment from verse 22 on John 16:26-27. The double commandment is like the synoptic tradition of the two great commandments. That this is not legalistic we can see in that “abiding” is so intimate. Commandment and Spirit are together. Note love in John 13:34 and Spirit in 14:15-17, 25-26. The New Testament often has Spirit as a pledge or criterion. Here, the thought is consistent with 4:2; the Spirit is the one who brings true public testimony about Jesus.

The Christian philosopher Søren Kierkegaard said that Jesus was looking for followers, not admirers — he wanted people who would walk with him, do his work, and serve in his name. One of Kierkegaard’s parables told of a man who was walking down a city street when he saw a big sign in a window that said, “Pants pressed here.” Delighted to see the sign, he went home and gathered up all his wrinkled laundry. He carried it into the shop and put it on the counter. “What are you doing?” the shopkeeper demanded. “I brought my clothes here to be pressed, just like your sign said.” “Oh, you’ve got it all wrong,” the owner said. “We don’t actually do that here. We’re in the business of making signs.” That, said Kierkegaard, is often the problem in the church. We advertise ourselves as a place that is showing Christ’s love and doing Christ’s work. However, when people show up looking for real love and real Christian action, they do not see it. “Oh, no, we don’t love people here. We just talk about loving people here.” 

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[1] The clause translated as “refuses help” would literally be rendered as “closes off his compassion”, using the standard Greek idiom of the “bowels” (splagcna) as the seat of the emotions and acts of compassion (in the way we in English now speak of the “heart”). Without giving way to the etymological fallacy in such a well-established idiom, the image nevertheless suggests the idea of hoarding within oneself the love received from God in the forms of the material things necessary for life. If God’s love properly “abides” in us it will not remain there closed off from others, but instead, having been nourished and transformed by God’s love we will act with compassion toward others in need. 

[2] When you believe you are taking your stand with Jesus in a setting where others will disagree or even oppose. The usual meaning of an action done “in the name of …” in Greek idiom is that of an attendant circumstance (“with mention of,” “while calling the name of …”). Surely, however, something more is at stake than just speaking Jesus’ name in a statement of what one believes. Equally unsatisfying is that it is nothing more than a formulaic means of identifying the object of one’s belief and trust. Would not direct use of the name itself (“believe in Jesus Christ”) better express the relational aspect of that trust? A better possible understanding of the expression would be its use to indicate an effect accomplished by uttering the name. The ability to believe is itself a consequence of calling on “the name” of Jesus Christ, who is then in some sense both the source and the object of that trust.

[3] Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.2 [64.4] 276.

Acts 4:5-12

Acts 4:5-12

⁵ The next day their rulers, elders, and scribes assembled in Jerusalem, ⁶ with Annas the high priest, Caiaphas, John,  and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family.  ⁷ When they had made the prisoners stand in their midst, they inquired, "By what power or by what name did you do this?"  ⁸ Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, "Rulers of the people and elders,  ⁹ if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and are asked how this man has been healed,  ¹⁰ let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth,  whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead.  ¹¹ This Jesus is "the stone that was rejected by you, the builders; it has become the cornerstone.'   ¹² There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved."   

           The theme of Acts 4:5-22, part of a segment that extends to verse 22, is the message of Peter before the Sanhedrin. Much of the tenor of the portrayal of Peter and John's first arrest and questioning by the Sanhedrin in Acts 4:5-12 characterizes Luke's purposes in writing the Acts of the Apostles. In his prologue to the Gospel of Luke (the first volume of his work), the evangelist notes that he intends to provide an "orderly account," based upon the observations of eyewitnesses (Luke 1:1-4). Indeed, many of the details in Acts 4:5-12 undergird the "orderliness" of the account. They hold the trial, according to legal code, "the next day" after the arrest. As with so much of the New Testament narrative material, the theological stamp, ecclesial concerns, and historical context of the evangelist come through in this story. As such, the relationship the church of Luke had to certain Jewish leaders colors the story as Luke tells what happened after the arrest of Peter and John, and his struggle to articulate faith in Jesus amid an argument in early Judaism and early Christianity about correct confession concerning the Messiah. 

In Acts 4: 5-6, we find a list of those aligned against the early Christian community in Jerusalem. ⁵ The next day their rulers, elders (πρεσβυτέρους) and scribes assembled in Jerusalem. The council consisted of 71 persons. The use of “their” shows the strained relations between the emergent Christian communities and the Jewish communities from which the Christians emerged. Luke is showing the distance between them with such language. It emphasizes the widening gulf between those who believe in the gospel of Jesus and those who do not. Elders played an important leadership role throughout the history of the biblical text, both in the Hebrew Bible and in the New Testament, although that role naturally assumed different shapes in changing historical circumstances. Derived from the pre-monarchic tribal structure of ancient Israel (and the ancient Near East in general), elders were rulers of extended families (Exodus 12:21) who exercised domestic, judiciary, military, religious and representative functions. Even in urban settings, where people adapted the means of livelihood and social configurations from agrarian patterns, people still recognized elders were and they continued to provide essential leadership services. By the time of the New Testament writings, which authors composed in urban settings, the role of elder had become somewhat specialized. It functioned in concert with other religious and civil authorities. The Greek term presbyteros occurs frequently in the gospels (e.g., Mark 15:1 and parallels), Acts (e.g., 5:21; 22:5), and the Pastoral Epistles (e.g., 1 Timothy 5:1). It does not occur in the undisputed Pauline writings, but the significance of this absence is uncertain, as there is evidence of the presence of elders in the churches with which Paul had dealings (e.g., Antioch, Jerusalem, and Ephesus). The present passage mentioned the elders along with the rulers and scribes to designate that group of Jewish leaders who bore responsibility for having ignorantly led the common people away from the gospel (see Acts 3:17). Scribes were an important professional class throughout the ancient world, and the Jewish scribes were responsible not only for transmitting the written religious tradition of ancient Israel, but, more important, for interpreting it as well (see Mark 1:22). The role of the scribes took on special importance during the diaspora, when the interpretation of the written religious tradition became highly specialized and technical due to the variety of social, geographical, and political situations in which Jews found themselves. Such new settings did not allow for the determination of what was religiously proper and what was not to blend naturally into legal affairs, especially since the classical world did not make as pronounced a distinction between religious and secular laws as the modern world does. Therefore, the scribes commonly functioned as (religious) lawyers (see Jeremiah 32:12-15). In the New Testament writings, especially in the gospels, authors often classed scribes with the Pharisees (e.g., Matthew 5:20; 15:1; Mark 2:16; 7:5; Luke 5:21; John 8:3) and denounced by Jesus in Matthew’s gospel as hypocrites for their excessive attention to the minutiae of the legal corpus (Matthew 23:13, 15, 23, 25, 27, 29). In the book of Acts, Luke continues to associate scribes with the party of the Pharisees (23:9), although in the present context he can also associate scribes with the Sadducees (4:1). They assembled along ⁶ with Annas the high priest, Caiaphas, John, and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family.  True to form, Luke names some historical persons in the list of authorities. We know nothing of John or Alexander. P. Sulpicius Quirinius appointed Annas high priest in ca 6 or 7 AD. Quirinius was the governor of Syria under whom a census was ordered at the time of the birth of Jesus (Luke 2:2; cf Acts 5:37). Valerius Gratus deposed him in 15 AD. His tenure as high priest predated the events reported here. Five of his sons become high priest.  Caiaphas was his son-in-law (according to John 18:13). He served as high priest at the trial of Jesus. He received his appointment in ca 18 until his removal by the procurator Vitellius in about 36 or 37. The chronology of the ruling high priest during the New Testament period is very confused (to the point that John records both Annas and Caiaphas as high priests simultaneously, John 18:22, 24, contrary to Jewish practice). ⁷ When they had made the prisoners stand in their midst, they inquired, "By what power or by what name did you do this?" The question refers to the healing of the lame man.  The power of that action and its effect in bringing about believers (5,000, Acts 4:4) appears to be the central concern to these religious authorities. The question of the source of the power or name by which Peter performed the miracle is not a casual one, as the significance of names in general in the ancient world was profound. They understood names to have symbolic significance by partaking directly in the essence of a thing (see, e.g., Genesis 3:20; Exodus 3:14; Matthew 1:21, 23). Therefore, to grant something its name was to exercise considerable power over it (e.g., Genesis 2:19). In time, this understanding of the name of God developed into a theological motif especially prominent among the Deuteronomistic theologians of the Hebrew Bible (see, e.g., Deuteronomy 5:11; 10:8; 12:5; 12:21; 14:23; 16:6, etc.). The importance of the divine name continued into the New Testament period, especially in the book of Acts (2:38; 3:6; 4:18; 5:40, and especially 8:12; see also, e.g., John 17:26). The power of the name is the basis of the question here and the reason for Peter’s formulaic announcement of the divine name of Jesus both prior to healing the lame man (3:6b) and in defense of his actions (4:10; see also Acts 16:18). ⁸ Then Peter, filled (πλησθεὶς) with the Holy Spirit (ΠνεύματοςἉγίου), a phrase often appearing before prominent speeches in Acts. Jesus told them that when their politically powerful enemies persecuted them, they would speak under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. In this spirit-filled state, Peter rehearses the kerygma. Therefore, Peter said to them, "Rulers of the people and elders, ⁹ if you question us today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and you ask how this man has received healing, ¹⁰ let all of you know this, as well as all the people of Israel. The man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you as Jewish authorities crucified through the agency of Roman law, but whom God raised from the dead. Luke points us to the event nature of revelation, summing up as briefly as one can the chief event in the relationship between God and humanity, as Christianity understands it, in the revelation of the God of Israel in Jesus of Nazareth.  For Christian faith, it matters who it was that God raised from the dead, namely, the Crucified, Jesus of Nazareth.^[1] The council could now bring up the charge of false doctrine, but they could hardly object to the healing of the lame man. ¹¹ This Jesus is, referring to Psalm 11i:22, "the stone that was rejected by you, the builders; it has become the cornerstone.'   Here is a clear polemic against the Jewish leaders, taking on the pointed conviction of guilt in the discussion of the death of Jesus. The Psalm became part of early Christian apologetic, as we can see in Matthew 21:42; Mark 12:10; Luke 20:17; 1 Peter 2:7. The Old Testament text applies to Israel, but as often, the New Testament applies it to Jesus. Salvation is not through Judaism but through Jesus. Peter aptly calls the council builders, for religious and civil government depended on them.  In Matthew 21:42, Christ had already applied the words to himself and to the way Jewish leaders rejected him. However, the rejected one is precisely the one God has exalted to the most important one.¹² There is salvation (σωτηρία, rescue or safety) in no one else, since this kerygmatic event is so unique and universal, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved (σωθῆναι, receive healing, rescue, preservation, deliverance, or protection)."  The cure of the lame man is a sign of the power of salvation through Christ. The emphasis is on the one name that God has given in revelation rather than on any other that God has not given in revelation. We should understand that Luke is explaining how the church can depend on the unwavering and faithful presence and power of God. The theology of the divine name continues with this declaration. Peter articulates a sentiment that was rapidly becoming a central tenet of early Christianity. Namely, those who embrace Jesus define the limit of salvation. Such proclamation differed from the proclamation of the rule of God on which Jesus centered his preaching (cf Acts 8:12). Such preaching no longer included, for instance, the chosen people, the Jews (compare John 4:22 and 14:6). In the New Testament period, to embrace Jesus meant far more than simply acknowledging a name. The radical nature of the life of the One in whose name new Christians received baptism was one the Holy Spirit transmitted to new devotees, by virtue of their receiving baptism in his name (Acts 8:16; 10:48). The modern severing of a name from the essence of its bearer has had incalculable ramifications for latter-day followers of Jesus Christ. For Luke's church the name of Jesus meant salvation. Luke's narrative reveals that the mere mention of the name brought about healing. However, more than this for Luke, being in the name of Jesus meant residing within the community of the saved. While today some church traditions might seek to temper this rhetoric as triumphalist, one must see Luke primarily in this rhetoric as promising his church the unwavering and dependable presence and power of God.

Many people in our secular culture no longer believe the question dealt with in this passage is a relevant one. It has scientific basis. Millennia from now, the universe will fade to black. It will simply cease movement. It will die. The same is true of us. We will cease moving. We will fade to black. Nothing can save us from this destiny. We are the ones who will give any healing and saving that exists in human life. We cannot expect safety, protection, or deliverance from outside the actions of human beings.

Even if in a secular culture we believe in God, we have so many options.

"All roads lead to God."

People have been saying this for years, often thinking themselves to be open-minded and freethinking. Moreover, some who embrace this mantra are self-confessed skeptics who think no one who believes in God is mentally well. Frankly, it may well testify to a truthful experience some people have of this world. Yet, objectively, we must admit that such a testimony is hardly the universal experience of human beings. I must say that the statement does not represent my experience well at all. 

However, whether uttered in sarcasm or sincerity, it is a claim that most Christians have at least thought about, especially when confronted by Acts 4:12. One can have salvation in no other way than Jesus. Alternatively, we also read, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). The point is that the New Testament witnesses to the unique and universal nature of this event, the revelation of the God of Israel in Jesus of Nazareth, the one crucified by Jew and Gentile and yet, the one whom God raised from the dead. We rightly wrestle with what this means in our global setting today.

Two places not to go: First, do not get comfortable with the idea that since not all the religions can be equally true, that therefore probably none of them is true. Most of us will agree that it was not helpful for Christians to claim an absolute corner on truth. It led to the arrogance and abuse of power that would divide the church between East and West and eventually to the split in the West between Protestant and Roman Catholic. Within the church itself, we sometimes question some of our own doctrines, and certainly, the church has modified some of its beliefs over the centuries. All religions may have a unique testimony regarding their experience of beauty, truth, and goodness. Atheism has its witness to its truth. Atheism will always be a valid response to human experience of this world, given the ambiguity presented by our search for the wholeness of truth, the nature of goodness, and the extent of beauty. Further, the depth of suffering in nature, human history, and in our lives, creates enough problems for belief in God. In other words, the atheist may be firm in this conviction, but also needs to have some openness to the witness contained in each religion. Multiple witnesses to truth-claims do not nullify the possibility that one of them is true.^[2]

Second, the other destination at which we ought not to settle is the notion that since many faiths, at least when we understand them correctly, promote peace and good will, then it really does not matter which one you follow. In the end, they may all lead to the same place. The problem here is that if we listen to religions with integrity, they have competing claims to what is true, good, and beautiful. Your life will look differently when you take the inner claim to truth each religion has seriously. Yes, we can find many paths that lead to Chicago. Yet, we may be talking about differing cities. If we are, then we need to reflect upon which city we want our lives to look like. Each religion is more like the varying cultures of a city. The point, then, is the destination as well as the journey. 

For centuries, faithful Christians have struggled with Peter's claim that salvation comes only through Jesus. They have asked, "What about those who have never heard the gospel? What about those who are faithful participants in other religions?" In addition, in attempts to answer those questions, various Christians have produced no less than six different positions, all of which are speculative:

- Restrictivism: There is no hope of salvation apart from hearing the gospel and having faith in Christ before death.

- Radical pluralism: Christ is one of many ways to God.

- Universalism: Salvation is through Christ, but ultimately God will save all persons through Christ.

- Universal evangelization before death: God ensures that everyone who seeks God will in fact hear the gospel.

- Eschatological evangelization: All who did not respond in this life will receive an opportunity to respond after death.

- Inclusivism: People who have never heard the gospel may obtain salvation if they respond to the light they have.

 

In terms of this list, Billy Graham, for example, would be an inclusivist. Speaking on Robert Schuller's "Hour of Power" program some years ago, Graham said that the body of Christ consists of people who may not be conscious of their love for Christ. God has called them out of the world and into the Body of Christ, even if they do not know the name of Jesus. They know they need something that they do not have. They turn toward the light they presently have. They receive the gift of salvation and enjoy the hope of eternity with those who embrace Jesus specifically and consciously. 

            If Billy Graham is right, it helps make some sense of what Peter says here. It preserves the event nature of the act of faith, for all persons will have light they reject or embrace. Such a view is consistent with the final judgment scene is Matthew 25, where some people have no idea they were serving Jesus when they fed the hungry or visited a prisoner. Yet, Jesus welcomes them into the rule of God. Yet, since salvation concerns far more than eternal destiny, we have the responsibility to give people the opportunity to embrace Jesus, here in this life, for salvation affects the quality of life one has here. Christians care about the experience their friends and neighbors have of human flourishing. The immediate question concerns their happiness, meaning, and purpose in this life. We can affirm readily and easily, then, certain truths. 

That Christ came for all, 

That God acting in Christ makes Christ a valid path to God,

That some light of God resides in all religions and cultures, 

That God will judge people based upon one how they have responded to the light they had, 

That embracing Christ in any way changes and enriches our lives here. 

 

In the end, it is not about which road is the right road. Christianity is not the only road on which people find hope and courage and even satisfaction, and we need to be respectful about the rights of others to live according to the best light they have perceived. 

Still, we can and should give heartfelt testimony about our experiences of what God has done in Christ. We do so, not attempting to shove Christ down somebody's throat, but sharing good news with those who live in dryness apart from him. It is not up to us what others decide about that good news. It is up to us to live faithfully by the great light we have received in Jesus Christ, the Light of the World.

In fact, C.S Lewis wrote, "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen; not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." The best we can say is that Christ, Christianity, and the church offer a way of seeing or a lens through which to see the world. Each of us needs a faith robust and complex enough to bear the weight of the messy world in which we live. We need a faith that empowers us to live in exquisite, terrible humility before reality (Richard Rohr). Such a faith is not thin or one-dimensional. The God who embraces me in Christ embraces me in a deep, mysterious, and high place. Such an approach to faith requires from me patience and alertness. It requires a longer gaze.[3]

Such a view assumes that all human beings are in the business of shopping for the rule of God. They share gullibility, questionable taste, and proneness to buy what is in the store rather than wait for that which they are looking. Yet, they are shopping, quite willing to put their money down (make a commitment to) where they think they will find the fulfillment of the desire of their hearts.^[4]

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^[1] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 2, 344. 

^[2] Nevertheless, while absolute truth is beyond any human claim, there is this basic truthfulness in the inner experience of Christianity: If through Christ, God comes to you, then that is a true phenomenon. The fact that some other religions may also have some truth-testifying experiences does not deny the truth that is in ours.

^[3] --Debie Thomas, "A Light to See By," Journey with Jesus for August 6, 2017. journeywithjesus.net. Retrieved October 12, 2017.

^[4] Robert Farrar Capon, The Parables of the Kingdom (Eerdmans, 1985), 143-44.