|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 15:36:59 GMT -5
The First Epistle of John I. Introduction
A. Authorship Like most of the Old Testament writings and the epistle to the Hebrews, John’s first epistle is anonymous. That is, the author didn’t directly identify himself. The same is true of the four gospel accounts, including the one attributed to the apostle John. In one sense, the authorship of a particular biblical text isn’t terribly important; the content and its interpretation are the critical issues. Of course, it’s helpful to identify the author because this provides additional insight into the text itself and its meaning. So, for instance, knowing that Paul wrote Romans is helpful in that the things written in that epistle can then be viewed and interpreted through the lens of Paul’s other writings. Interpreting his instruction concerning Israel in Romans 9-11 is made easier by comparing that section with what he wrote to the Ephesian and Galatian churches. In the case of the present epistle, the reader doesn’t have the benefit of the author’s self identification, so that the question of authorship must be answered on the basis of internal and external evidence. Internal evidence refers to content and clues within the letter itself; external evidence has to do with references and allusions to the epistle from other sources. The considerations and arguments surrounding this epistle and its authorship are numerous and complicated and wading through them is beyond the scope of this study. However, one of the obvious issues involves the relationship between the three epistles ascribed to John. For, while the first one is anonymous, the latter two have the writer identifying himself as “the elder” (2 John 1; 3 John 1). This has a couple of important implications for the question of authorship:
- First, if the apostle John was in fact the author of all three epistles, then he regarded himself as “the elder” in some sense and was known that way by at least some in the Christian community. In itself, this doesn’t present an obstacle to John’s authorship, for Peter – another of the Twelve – also referred to himself as an elder (1 Peter 5:1).
- Secondly, John’s authorship of all three epistles implies that the recipients of the first one either didn’t know him as “the elder” or he didn’t feel the need to identify himself with this title. One possibility is that the second and third epistles were directed at individuals (one individual, in the case of the third epistle) with whom John had had personal ministerial involvement as an apostolic elder. His first epistle, on the other hand, had a larger Christian audience in view (though perhaps one he oversaw as an apostolic elder and devoted “father” – 2:1, 3:7, 18, 4:4, 5:21). Others argue that First John isn’t a letter as such, but a general polemic written in defense of John’s meaning in his gospel account. (Many found – and still find – support for Gnostic ideas in the Gospel of John.) Though Johannine authorship of all three epistles has been the traditional view, there are many who believe all three shared the same author, but this “elder” wasn’t John the apostle. Still others maintain that the unique anonymity of the first epistle points to it having a different writer than the other two. In the end, it’s impossible to know for sure, but a careful examination of the internal and external evidence can lead to a reasonable conclusion.
1. With respect to the internal evidence (evidence drawn from the epistle itself), the first and most obvious observation is that writer of First John was a person who was an intimate eyewitness of Jesus of Nazareth (1:1-3). This self-description doesn’t prove that the writer was one of the Twelve, much less the apostle John, but it does show that he had an intimate relationship with Jesus that few beyond the apostolic circle could claim. He wasn’t someone who observed the Lord at a distance or was a casual acquaintance, but one who companied with Him and knew Him well. Secondly, the epistle carries an air of authority consistent with apostolic authorship (though not necessarily John’s). The writer claimed accurate insight and understanding of Jesus’ person and the purpose and outcome of His work and he bound his readers to the truths he proclaimed without any reluctance or qualification. He saw himself as a truthful witness, but also an authority to which he expected his audience to submit themselves as children to a father. So Guthrie: “His letter at once creates the impression that here is a man who knows beyond question where he stands and expects all other Christians to conform to the same standard, because he knows it to be true. The author, in short, stands out as a man of considerable spiritual stature.” But there are features in the epistle that point specifically to John as the author, particularly when it is compared with the fourth gospel. Of course, this presumes that the apostle John was the author of the gospel account bearing his name, a claim which some dispute to this day. But there is strong evidence for this conclusion, and, that being the case, there are many similarities between John’s gospel and this epistle. Among those are concepts that are common to both – concepts such as light and darkness, eternal life and especially love as defining God and those who know Him. Both also share similarities of style, vocabulary and usage evident in the Greek texts. A reader reading both texts in Greek wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to learn that they were composed by the same person. Every writer has his own style, vocabulary, etc., and the same is true of the biblical writers. Paul, Luke and Peter, for instance, all wrote very differently and a person conversant with New Testament Greek immediately knows which author he’s reading. (This difference among writers is an important argument against Paul being the author of Hebrews; it contains a style of Greek not consistent with Paul’s writings.) Other textual support for John’s authorship – as well as contrary considerations and arguments – are beyond this study; suffice it here to say that there are more than sufficient reasons to hold to the traditional view that John the apostle wrote this epistle. Moreover, there aren’t any compelling or determinative reasons to conclude otherwise.
2. This points to the second consideration, namely external evidence for Johannine authorship. The first likely allusion to this epistle comes from Polycarp (AD 69-156), a disciple of John, who became the Bishop of Smyrna early in the second century. The church father Irenaeus cited directly from First and Second John in his work Against Heresies (circa AD 180) and he ascribed them (and the gospel of John) to the apostle John. A generation later Origen made the same affirmation in his writings. Although some apparent allusions to First John in early church writings are doubtful, it is fair to say that both the Greek and Latin church fathers accepted John’s authorship of this epistle.
B. Occasion and Purpose It’s reasonable to conclude that Jesus’ disciple John, the son of Zebedee, penned this epistle, but the writer’s identity isn’t nearly as important as his status. This is obvious from the epistle’s opening statements: The author wasn’t concerned to name himself, but he was adamant to establish his status as a man who’d communed with Jesus during His earthly ministry. It was his intimate personal knowledge of Jesus that gave credibility and authority to the things he wished to communicate, not his identity as such. This was fitting, for he penned his epistle to impress upon his readers the critical importance of knowing Jesus as He actually is; they would not be able to follow Him in truth unless they first knew Him in truth. His burden was that they would not find themselves embracing an idol in the name of following Jesus the Messiah (5:20-21).
1. Thus the occasion for the letter is more general than specific. John didn’t point to a particular circumstance or issue that provoked his writing. Rather, he wrote to address general patterns already emerging in the Church which he recognized as dangerous and threatening to the Christian community’s well-being. Those patterns reflected distorted and erroneous ways in which believers were thinking about Jesus’ person and work. There are several arenas of error John confronted, but three stand in the forefront. Two pertain to Jesus Himself, namely His incarnation (cf. 1:1-3 with 4:1-3, 5:4-5; cf. also 2 John 7) and His messiahship (2:18-22, 5:1), while the third pertains to the understanding and practice of those who claimed to know Him. The latter issue is predominant in the epistle, but it is grounded in the former two errors. That is to say, the misjudgment and malpractice being manifested among John’s readers reflected their misunderstanding of Jesus Himself, what He’d accomplished and what it means to know Him. The orientation of John’s concerns has led many to conclude that the primary reason for his epistle was Gnostic influence making its way into the Church. Gnosticism is a form of mystical spirituality likely having its ideological roots in Greek philosophy, particularly as it sought to understand the duality of matter and spirit (the material and immaterial dimensions of reality). Gnostic concepts predated Jesus and the Christian faith, but began to make inroads into Christian thought and understanding very early on, certainly by the end of the first century. The first-century teacher Cerinthus seems to have been influenced by Gnostic ideas, as also the adherents of Docetism, which also originated in the first century. (Irenaeus wrote that the apostle John opposed Cerinthus’ ideas in his gospel and epistles, though this is uncertain. Similarly, many believe Ignatius (AD 35- 108) confronted Docetism in some of his writings as Bishop of Antioch.) Gnostic influence in the Church was only germinal at the time of John’s death, so it’s an overstatement to say that his first epistle directly confronted Gnosticism as a developed and entrenched belief system. Nevertheless, John almost certainly was aware of Gnostic ideas infiltrating the churches and he would have recognized the threat they posed – not only to Christians’ understanding of Jesus as God’s Messiah, but also to how they perceived Christ’s Church and the Christian life and vocation. The great danger of Gnosticism is that it is an embrace which smothers: It embraces terms and concepts intrinsic to Christian truth, only to redefine and reorient them within a pagan framework.
2. Again, John didn’t identify any particular issue as the occasion for his epistle. Instead, he wrote out of concern for troubling patterns he saw developing in the fledgling Christian community with whom he was associated. The influence of Gnostic ideas certainly seems to have been one of those, but there were others as well – patterns consistent with natural human reasoning rather than a particular philosophical system or ideology. Together, all of these aberrations posed a threat to Christ’s Church and its authentic life and witness in the world. Left unconfronted, they would flourish and act as a cancer in Christ’s Body, destroying its health and vitality and rendering it utterly incapable of fulfilling its vocation on His behalf. John’s directness and zeal show that he understood the gravity of the situation and he was intent on exposing and confronting these errors and directing his readers to return to a right understanding and practice. The truth as it is in Christ was at stake, as was the authenticity and fruitfulness of their faith in Him (1:1-4, 5:13).
C. Interpretive Issues John composed his letter to a Christian community with whom he was intimately acquainted. Whether or not he’d served them as an apostolic overseer, he clearly regarded them as his beloved children in the faith, sons and daughters to whom he was devoted and for whom he felt personally responsible. The obvious implication is that Christians cannot embrace his letter as if it were written to them; as with all of the Scriptures, the contemporary reader must guard against reading his own personal and cultural perspectives and circumstances into John’s epistle. At the same time, John’s instruction is relevant for every Christian in every age. But one must begin by interacting with his letter as he penned and directed it toward his specific audience. This requires that the reader strive to enter their context and circumstances and receive John’s instruction the way they would have. Only then can any personal relevance be determined and applied. With that goal in mind, a couple of general observations are in order:
1. First, the reader must guard against the tendency to treat John’s epistle as a corrective to wrong behavior. This tendency is natural, evident in the emphasis on behavior in all religions. And the reason for this orientation is that human existence is defined by a fundamental alienation – alienation from others, from God and from oneself. In this state, personal interactions – including with deity – are a matter of appropriate conduct rather than authentic intimacy. This is not to say that John wasn’t at all concerned with conduct, but that he recognized right knowledge as the essence of right conduct. He was concerned that his readers know and embrace the true Jesus, not simply conform to proper behavior.
2. This concern reflects another dimension of natural human existence, namely the inherent tendency to formulate one’s own “Jesus.” All people live in their own minds, so that all things are (as far as they’re aware) what they believe them to be. This is why knowledge of the truth and conformity to it is a matter of the renewing of the mind (cf. Romans 12:1- 3 with Ephesians 4:17-24). In the absence of this renewal – wrought by the Spirit through the means He’s appointed, every person will inevitably form a concept of Jesus that conforms to his own perspective, notions and interests. Not surprisingly, this dynamic has plagued the Church and its life and witness from the very beginning. And to the extent that a person embraces a “Jesus” of his own imagination, he worships an idol created in his own image; whatever his convictions, he continues to be a worshipper of himself.
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 15:41:55 GMT -5
II. Background The writer of the epistle didn’t identify himself and neither did he identify those to whom he was writing. But his language, concerns and instruction make it clear that he was addressing fellow believers whom he regarded as his children in the faith. They were individuals who’d embraced Jesus as Lord and Savior, but their knowledge and faith were being undermined by wrong notions and misguided influences. These Christians – like all believers within the Graeco-Roman world of the first century – had come to Jesus as people steeped in pagan ideas and practice. Unlike modern western society, there was no division or distinction between the secular and sacred in the first-century world John and his readers inhabited. Religion permeated and informed all of life, whether family, society, culture or politics. John’s audience was submerged in a sea of pagan thought and religious practice and it was continuing to affect them in their understanding of Jesus and the way they ordered their lives in relation to Him.
A. Philosophical Dualism First-century Graeco-Roman religion consisted of many different philosophies and traditions, but they seem to have shared a common dualistic foundation. That is, they shared the conviction of a fundamental distinction between the material and immaterial, the real and the apparent. This thinking is present in the Greek philosophers Socrates, Plato and Aristotle and underlies their views regarding reality. Though their terminology and expression varied, they essentially held that immaterial “ideas” are the true reality – the “ideal form” – which material reality only represents. So, for instance, blueness is the reality which finds expression in blue objects. This dualistic conception of reality extended into the realm of humanness. Following Socrates, Plato believed that the human soul is the true essence of a person; it precedes his physical body and survives it. The immaterial soul is the reality, while the body is only a transient vehicle. Therefore, human destiny involves shedding the body to liberate the soul so that it can at last attain its true perfection. Socrates believed in the immortality of the soul; Plato went further in holding to the soul’s preexistence. But both believed the soul is encumbered by the body, not merely in the physical sense, but morally and intellectually. The goal of human existence is wisdom, but wisdom is hampered by one’s physicality because knowledge comes through reasoning, not through the physical senses. What is discerned through the senses is neither clear nor accurate, so that the body can only obscure knowledge and distract from it. And the only way to be free of the body’s distorting influence is to be free of the body itself.
B. Epicureanism Epicureanism was one of the three major schools of Hellenist (Greek) philosophy that arose after Plato and Aristotle and continued on into the Christian era. The founder Epicurus was a materialist who argued that the gods (as the Greeks conceived of deity) were themselves composed of matter (“atoms”) just as human beings are. He believed that the soul as well as the body is composed of this atomic matter; at death, soul and body disintegrate and return to the elemental material from which they were formed. Unlike Plato and Socrates, the Epicureans rejected the notion of the soul’s immortality. They associated the concept of life after death with judgment and punishment and sought to free men from the fear and dysfunction it engenders.
“Epicurus believed that, on the basis of a radical materialism which dispensed with transcendent entities such as the Platonic Ideas or Forms, he could disprove the possibility of the soul’s survival after death, and hence the prospect of punishment in the afterlife. He regarded the unacknowledged fear of death and punishment as the primary cause of anxiety among human beings, and anxiety in turn as the source of extreme and irrational desires. The elimination of the fears and corresponding desires would leave people free to pursue the pleasures, both physical and mental, to which they are naturally drawn, and to enjoy the peace of mind that is consequent upon their regularly expected and achieved satisfaction… Epicurus was aware that deeply ingrained habits of thought are not easily corrected, and thus he proposed various exercises to assist the novice. His system included advice on the proper attitude toward politics (avoid it where possible) and the gods (do not imagine that they concern themselves about human beings and their behavior), the role of sex (dubious), marriage (also dubious) and friendship (essential).” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy) As the above citation suggests, Epicurus and his followers conceived of the gods in distant, disinterested terms. (The Deism of the Enlightenment period is a form of Epicureanism.) They acknowledged the existence of gods, but argued that they have no concern for this world and its activities and operations and so are irrelevant to human existence. The implication is that people should be concerned with worthy human pursuits and attainments, not the supernatural realm. “For Epicurus, the purpose of philosophy was to attain the happy, tranquil life, characterized by ataraxia (peace and freedom from fear) and aponia (the absence of all forms of pain) and by living a self-sufficient life surrounded by friends. He taught that the root of all human neurosis was death denial and the tendency for human beings to assume that death will be horrific and painful, which he claimed causes unnecessary anxiety, selfish self-protective behaviors, and hypocrisy. According to Epicurus, death is the end of both the body and the soul and therefore should not be feared. He also taught that the gods neither reward nor punish humans; that the universe is infinite and eternal; and that occurrences in the natural world are ultimately the result of atoms moving and interacting in empty space.” (Wikipedia) The Epicureans believed that the highest form of human existence is attained through personal pleasure, but the rational pleasures of virtue rather than sensual or bodily pleasures. In seeking and obtaining what is truly pleasurable – that which gives true delight as truly good, humans obtain satisfaction and wholeness and so find deliverance from discontentment, unrest, affliction and fear. While the “divine” exists, it has no real connection with or relevance to human existence. People have a rightful responsibility to pursue virtue and goodness, but not because of divinely imposed duty or the fear of condemnation and punishment; rather they follow this course because it brings the greatest benefit to their own lives. So Epicurus himself: “When we say...that pleasure is the end and aim, we do not mean the pleasures of the prodigal or the pleasures of sensuality, as we are understood to do by some through ignorance, prejudice or willful misrepresentation. By pleasure we mean the absence of pain in the body and of trouble in the soul. It is not by an unbroken succession of drinking bouts and of revelry, not by sexual lust, nor the enjoyment of fish and other delicacies of a luxurious table, which produce a pleasant life; it is sober reasoning, searching out the grounds of every choice and avoidance, and banishing those beliefs through which the greatest tumults take possession of the soul.”
C. Stoicism Stoicism originated in Athens with the philosopher Zeno. It was contemporary with Epicureanism and paralleled it in important ways. It, too, exalted the virtue of a disciplined life marked by sound reasoning and judgment and it renounced careless, dissipative attitudes and practices. But whereas the Epicureans regarded authentic pleasure to be the key to happiness and fulfillment, the Stoics located that key in a disciplined, conformed will. Both emphasized knowledge and discernment (wisdom), but unto different goals: Epicureans pursued wisdom as illumining true human pleasure; Stoics believed wisdom gives direction and resource to the will as it strives to conform to the truth of “Nature” (that is, things as they really are). “Stoicism is predominantly a philosophy of personal ethics informed by its system of logic and its views on the natural world. According to its teachings, as social beings, the path to happiness for humans is found in accepting this moment as it presents itself, by not allowing ourselves to be controlled by our desire for pleasure or our fear of pain, by using our minds to understand the world around us and to do our part in nature’s plan, and by working together and treating others fairly and justly. The Stoics are especially known for teaching that ‘virtue is the only good’ for human beings, and that external things – such as health, wealth, and pleasure – are not good or bad in themselves, but have value as ‘material for virtue to act upon.’” “Stoicism teaches the development of self-control and fortitude as a means of overcoming destructive emotions; the philosophy holds that becoming a clear and unbiased thinker allows one to understand the universal reason (logos). A primary aspect of Stoicism involves improving the individual’s ethical and moral well-being: ‘Virtue consists in a will which is in agreement with Nature.’ This principle also applies to the realm of interpersonal relationships; ‘to be free from anger, envy, and jealousy,’ and to accept even slaves as ‘equals of other men, because all alike are sons of God.’” “The Stoic ethic espouses a deterministic perspective; in regards to those who lack Stoic virtue, Cleanthes once opined that the wicked man is ‘like a dog tied to a cart, and compelled to go wherever it goes.’ A Stoic of virtue, by contrast, would amend his will to suit the world and remain, in the words of Epictetus, ‘sick and yet happy, in peril and yet happy, dying and yet happy, in exile and happy, in disgrace and happy,’ thus positing a ‘completely autonomous’ individual will, and at the same time a universe that is ‘a rigidly deterministic single whole.’” (Wikipedia) Fundamental to Stoic philosophy is the premise that truth can be known by the process of reasoning. Without this assumption, there is no basis for the Stoic ethic that true happiness and fulfillment are realized through a will conformed to “nature” – that is, to the world and its features, principles and operations as they really are. Unless men are able to discern objective truth through their own human faculties it is absurd to speak of them aligning their wills to it. Stoicism is often misunderstood because of the contemporary connotation of a “stoic” as a person who shows no emotion. But Stoicism didn’t teach the suppression of emotion as such, but the informing and directing of human passions such that they become reflections and servants of truth rather than irrational and foolish sentiments untethered from and contrary to truth.
Emotions are proper and virtuous when they express the person’s conscious will as it is informed by and bound over to truth (“Nature”). The Stoic’s goal was to bind his emotions and passions to the truth and make them servants of his peace of mind. He sought clear judgment and discipline which will secure his contentment and peace in the face of life’s continual challenges. “For the Stoics, ‘reason’ meant not only using logic, but also understanding the processes of nature — the logos, or universal reason, inherent in all things. Living according to reason and virtue, they held, is to live in harmony with the divine order of the universe, in recognition of the common reason and essential value of all people. Following Socrates, the Stoics held that unhappiness and evil are the results of human ignorance of the reason in nature. If someone is unkind, it is because they are unaware of their own universal reason which would lead to the conclusion of kindness. The solution to evil and unhappiness then, is the practice of Stoic philosophy — to examine one's own judgments and behavior and determine where they have diverged from the universal reason of nature.” (Wikipedia) The previous quotation indicates a point of seeming compatibility between Stoicism and the Christian faith emerging in the first century: Both spoke of the centrality of the Logos. But, whereas the Stoics (and Greek philosophy more generally) understood “Logos” in terms of the true nature of reality – how things really are in themselves, Christians understood it in terms of the human incarnation of the God who is true and His revelation to men. When John spoke of the Logos (John 1:1-14), he was using a concept well familiar to the Gentiles of his day, but he was investing it with new meaning. There is indeed a “Logos” which is the substance of all reality and truth, but it is a person, not a principle. The Stoics and Epicureans agreed that man, beginning from himself and fully sufficient in himself, is capable of arriving at truth and ordering his life according to it. And, though they expressed it somewhat differently, both agreed that virtue resides in sound judgment and selfdiscipline – in discerning things as they really are and conforming to that truth. In this way, a person can deliver himself from the evil, unhappiness and misery that fill the world and infect his own life. And because all personal and social evils are the product of bad thinking and misguided actions, the world could be purged of them if all men were to embrace this way of wisdom. In this respect the Epicureans and Stoics were humanists. They weren’t strict materialists who denied the existence of all spiritual or supernatural entities or powers, but they placed man and his capacities center stage and believed personal disciplines determine a person’s lot. - Epicurus and his followers acknowledged Greece’s gods, but they regarded them as irrelevant since they have no interest or involvement in human affairs. The gods exist, but it’s superstitious nonsense to worship them and seek their favor. - The Stoics were essentially pantheists. They didn’t believe in individual divine beings, but conceived of “god” in terms of a universal principle of reason (“logos”) that determines and defines everything that exists. This Logos is effectively incarnate in the cosmos itself and has impressed its stamp of order in both structure (design) and function (law) upon every facet of it. This is the sense in which the Stoics understood the concept of “Nature” and they applied themselves to conform to it.
D. Gnosticism Gnostic philosophy predated the Christian era by at least a century. But being a “mystery religion,” it had its roots in human antiquity. All mystery religions are centered in esotericism, which is the belief that enlightenment leading to a perfected state (however that might be understood) is attained through acquiring transcendent knowledge Thus the term “Gnosticism” is taken from the Greek noun gnosis which means “knowledge.” Though Gnosticism has no strict set of doctrines, it is grounded in the conviction that spirit is inherently good and matter, in all forms, is inherently evil (or at least imperfect). The transcendent spirituality of Christianity and its concern with the matters of flesh and spirit made the Christian faith a logical target for the infiltration of Gnostic beliefs. This began in the first century and a hundred years later Gnosticism was well-entrenched in the Christian community. Thus many of the quasi-Christian writings (Gospel of Thomas, Gospel of Philip, The Acts of Peter, etc.) that emerged in the second and third centuries are actually Gnostic in their theology. The following is a summary of Gnostic tenets from the gnosis.org website: “In the Gnostic view, there is a true, ultimate and transcendent God who is beyond all created universes and who never created anything in the sense in which the word “create” is ordinarily understood. While this True God did not fashion or create anything, He (or, It) “emanated” or brought forth from within Himself the substance of all there is in all the worlds, visible and invisible. In a certain sense, it may therefore be true to say that all is God, for all consists of the substance of God. By the same token, it must also be recognized that many portions of the original divine essence have been projected so far from their source that they underwent unwholesome changes in the process. To worship the cosmos, or nature, or embodied creatures is thus tantamount to worshipping alienated and corrupt portions of the emanated divine essence. The basic Gnostic myth has many variations, but all of these refer to Aeons, intermediate deific beings who exist between the ultimate, True God and ourselves. They, together with the True God, comprise the realm of Fullness (Pleroma) wherein the potency of divinity operates fully. The Fullness stands in contrast to our existential state, which in comparison may be called emptiness.” “One of the aeonial beings who bears the name Sophia (“Wisdom”) is of great importance to the Gnostic world view. In the course of her journeyings, Sophia came to emanate from her own being a flawed consciousness, a being who became the creator of the material and psychic cosmos, all of which he created in the image of his own flaw. This being, unaware of his origins, imagined himself to be the ultimate and absolute God. Since he took the already existing divine essence and fashioned it into various forms, he is also called the Demiurge or ‘half-maker.’” (In Gnostic thought, this Demiurge corresponds to the Creator-God of the Scriptures.) “Human nature mirrors the duality found in the world: in part, it was made by the false creator God and in part it consists of the light of the True God. Humankind contains a perishable physical and psychic component as well as a spiritual component which is a fragment of the divine essence. This latter part is often symbolically referred to as the ‘divine spark.’”
Gnostics embraced the fundamental soul-body dualism of Socrates, Plato, the Epicureans and the Stoics, but their focus was spiritual and salvific (pertaining to the destiny of the soul after death) rather than philosophical and ethical (perfecting one’s soul in this life through wise living). “Humans are generally ignorant of the divine spark resident within them. This ignorance is fostered in human nature by the influence of the false creator and his Archons, who together are intent upon keeping men and women ignorant of their true nature and destiny. Anything that causes us to remain attached to earthly things serves to keep us in enslavement to these lower cosmic rulers. Death releases the divine spark from its lowly prison, but if there has not been a substantial work of Gnosis undertaken by the soul prior to death, it becomes likely that the divine spark will be hurled back into, and then re-embodied within, the pangs and slavery of the physical world. Not all humans are spiritual (pneumatics) and thus ready for Gnosis and liberation. Some are earthbound and materialistic beings who recognize only the physical reality. Others live largely in their psyche. Such people usually mistake the Demiurge for the True God and have little or no awareness of the spiritual world beyond matter and mind.” “Humans are caught in a predicament consisting of physical existence combined with ignorance of their true origins, their essential nature and their ultimate destiny. To be liberated from this predicament, human beings require help, although they must also contribute their own efforts. From earliest times Messengers of the Light have come forth from the True God in order to assist humans in their quest for Gnosis. Only a few of these salvific figures are mentioned in Gnostic scripture; some of the most important are Seth (the third Son of Adam), Jesus, and the Prophet Mani. The majority of Gnostics always looked to Jesus as the principal savior figure (the Soter). Gnostics do not look to salvation from sin (original or other), but rather from the ignorance of which sin is a consequence. Ignorance – whereby is meant ignorance of spiritual realities – is dispelled only by Gnosis, and the decisive revelation of Gnosis is brought by the Messengers of Light, especially by Christ, the Logos of the True God. It is not by His suffering and death but by His life of teaching and His establishing of mysteries that Christ has performed His work of salvation.” (gnosis.org, emphasis added) Gnostic influence in the early Church produced several pseudo-Christian sects and movements, two of which were the Cerinthian and Docetic sects.
1. The Cerinthians The Cerinthian movement began in the first century as followers of a man named Cerinthus. Consistent with the Gnostic distinction between matter and spirit, Cerinthus held that the man Jesus of Nazareth and the “Christ” were separate entities. He believed that the “Christ” presence (spirit) came upon the man Jesus at His baptism, empowering Him for His miraculous and supernatural ministry, and then departed from Him at the point of His death, returning into the Pleroma. (In Gnostic thought, the “Pleroma” consists of the pantheon of gods who act as intermediaries between the one, all-powerful god and the material creation.) Many argue that John was confronting the Cerinthian doctrine (among other things) in his first epistle, pointing particularly to his insistence that “Jesus is the Christ” – not a man temporarily endowed with the Gnostic “Christ spirit,” but the Messiah promised in the Scriptures (cf. 1 John 2:21-23, 4:2, 15, 5:1).
2. The Docetists Starting with the basic Gnostic tenet that all matter is inherently corrupt (if not evil), the Docetists taught that the Christ never possessed human flesh but only appeared to be a man; what people observed was merely an apparition. (The term docetism derives from the Greek word denoting an appearance or semblance.) The logic of this is easy to understand: If Jesus of Nazareth truly was divine and without sin, then it was impossible that He could have a physical body; that condition alone would render Him defiled. The Docetists denied Jesus’ humanness in order to uphold their spirit/matter dualism, but the result was that they were forced to reject the central Christian truth that He “suffered in the flesh” (ref. Acts 2:22-32; 3:1-15, 5:12-30; Romans 6:1-11; 1 Corinthians 15:1-5; Galatians 2:20-3:1, 13-14; Colossians 1:19-20; 1 Peter 4:1-2). Obviously Jesus couldn’t suffer and die on a cross if He had no physical body, but the very idea of the “Christ spirit” undergoing any sort of suffering was alien to Gnostic thought and teaching. And if the crucifixion and death of the Christ was a fiction, then so was His bodily resurrection. Whoever the Romans put to death that day at Calvary, it wasn’t the Christ; that one had already returned to the Pleroma (in a “spiritual” resurrection) from which it descended. In the end, the Docetic conception of Jesus and the “Christ event” completely redefined the messianic person and work and God’s purposes in it (1 Corinthians 15:12-28). Believing themselves to be followers of Jesus the Messiah, the Docetists were actually following after a “Christ” of their own imagination; theirs was an embrace that smothered. The Docetists must have known that their conception of the “Christ” and His mission differed greatly from the doctrine upheld and proclaimed in the wider Christian community. They believed that the Christ had appeared in the world to show men the path of personal enlightenment that results in deliverance from the corrupt creation, not to liberate and renew God’s good creation by His death and resurrection. His goal wasn’t the resurrection of the body culminating with the new heavens and earth, but the soul’s liberation from the body in view of the eventual destruction of the entire material cosmos. The early Christians agreed with the Gnostics that the world is corrupt, but they ascribed it to man’s fall and corruption, not a flawed work of creation brought about by a flawed deity. So they identified the remedy for the creation’s condition in God’s work of purging and renewal in the Messiah, whereas Gnostics looked to the creation’s destruction. And while the early Christians embraced bodily resurrection as man’s destiny, the Gnostics spoke of spiritual resurrection – the soul’s final perfection in deliverance from the body. Many scholars believe that the apostle John also addressed himself to the Docetic Christians in his first epistle. The one who embraces Jesus Christ in truth must embrace Him as the Messiah who came in the flesh as Israel’s Scriptures revealed and promised. The Savior-Christ is the Son of Adam, Abraham and David, not a spirit who descended from the Pleroma to instruct men and then return to it. Jesus is the way, not as a spiritguide, but as the truth and life as God’s True Man (“last Adam”). Any spirit that does not confess that “Jesus the Christ has come in the flesh” manifests the spirit of antichrist: that which supplants Christ, whether by deception or rejection (ref. 1 John 1:1, 4:2-3)
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 15:45:27 GMT -5
III. John’s First Epistle – Rethinking the Messiah and Life in Him John’s first epistle doesn’t present any sort of neat structure. This is clear from the fact that scholars and commentators have come up with all sorts of outlines and structural arrangements, all while admitting that their arrangement doesn’t do full justice to the text. So Westcott: “No single arrangement is able to take account of the complex development of thought which it offers, and of the many connections which exist between its different parts.” This lack of tidy structure perhaps reflects the spirit and orientation of the document; John wasn’t writing a carefully crafted systematic treatise, but a spirited challenge and earnest plea to fellow Christians who were wandering from the truth as it is in Jesus. He wrote as a father out of a heart burdened by loving concern, not as a well-reasoned theologian. Consistent with this intent and orientation, some have detected in the epistle a kind of oscillating movement that spirals upward toward a climax. That is, John goes back and forth between what is true (who Jesus is and what it means to know Him) and what the truth implies and demands (what life in Christ entails), always building on what he has already established. Whereas Paul tended in his epistles to partition these two dimensions (indicative and imperative) into a “doctrinal” section followed by a “practical” section, John here wraps them together into an organic, dynamic, escalating whole.
A. John’s Prologue (1:1-4) Some scholars believe John penned this letter as a clarification and defense of his gospel account. Gnostic ideas and influences were infiltrating the Christian community well before the end of the first century and there’s little doubt that those with Gnostic leanings found support for their views in a particular reading of John’s gospel. Among other things, he emphasized the themes of light and darkness, life and death, flesh and spirit, and these were core concepts in Gnostic mythology. It may have been that some Gnostic Christians even pointed to John himself as an apostolic authority sympathetic with them and their doctrine. Whatever the case, this epistle clearly confronted false notions about Jesus as God’s Messiah – notions consistent with the aberrant Gnostic concept of “the Christ” embraced by the Cerinthian and Docetic Christians. Another evidence that John wrote this epistle with his gospel account in view is the fact that he began it with a prologue that echoes the one in his gospel. The present one is much shorter and more concise, but it highlights several of the same themes. Anyone familiar with John’s gospel finds his prologue coming to mind when reading the opening statements of this epistle.
1. The thing that immediately stands out with John’s prologue is its awkwardness. The first three verses (possibly the first four) are one long sentence and the four relative phrases (“what was from the beginning, what we have heard..” etc.) that begin it are grammatically ambiguous. That is, they can function either as subjects or objects of a verb – either one of the verbs in the passage or an implied one. So also verse 2 appears to be a parenthesis that interrupts the main flow of thought. Scholars have structured these verses in various ways, but a few things seem clear: First, verse 2 is indeed a parenthetic statement that clarifies the phrase, “word of life.” Second, this parenthesis leads into verse 3 which continues John’s main thought. Third, the verb “proclaim” in verse 3 goes with the relative phrases in verse 1, which function as its objects. (The verbs in the second verse function together within the parenthesis.) Hence the flow of John’s thought:
“We proclaim to you what we have experienced regarding the Word of life – that is, what was from the beginning, what we ourselves have heard, seen with our eyes, scrutinized and handled. This life – the life of the eternal realm which existed with the Father and was then revealed to us – was manifested in the world and we observed it and testify to it, now proclaiming it to you. And we do so in order that you would have fellowship with us – us whose fellowship is with the Father and His Son, Jesus the Messiah. When you share in this fellowship our joy will be complete. This is our purpose in writing to you.”
2. John began this correspondence the way he began his gospel account, namely by associating Jesus with “the beginning” (cf. John 1:1). In his gospel, it was the divine Logos that existed in the beginning; here, John only referenced an indefinite entity – “that which was from the beginning.” So also he didn’t mention incarnation – the Logos becoming flesh – as he did in his gospel prologue, but implied it by declaring that he (and others) had heard, seen, scrutinized and touched that One. Throughout John used a neuter pronoun, (what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen…”), which itself alludes to the non-human Logos he introduced in his gospel prologue. But one does not see, hear and touch a spiritual Logos, but rather a fleshly one. By speaking in this way, John hinted at two truths: the widely accepted truth of an eternal Logos principle and the shocking and astonishing truth of an incarnate, human Logos. As noted, the Logos was a concept woven into the philosophy and religious formulations of John’s day. It wasn’t unique to Gnostic thought, but even outside of Gnostic circles no one imagined that the Logos (whatever one’s exact understanding of it) could assume physical form, let alone be embodied as a human being. Humans can embrace the Logos as eternal truth and be transformed by it, but it always remains distinct and separate from them. In the Graeco-Roman world, an incarnate Logos was a contradiction in terms.
3. John first identified this figure in indefinite terms, then associated it with “the Word of Life.” In this way John connected the concepts of Logos and life (vv. 1-2), echoing a central theme in his gospel prologue (ref. John 1:1-4). John’s Gentile contemporaries would have had no problem with this association; all who embraced the concept of the Logos agreed that authentic life – whether eternally or in this world – is obtained through one’s proper relationship with the Logos (as the principle of nature and wisdom). But, as with the Logos concept itself, John was here importing new meaning into a familiar idea. The life associated with the Logos – the Word that is life (cf. 5:20) – is the life of the eternal realm, but not in the Gnostic and pagan sense. It isn’t the “life” of disembodied exaltation into the Pleroma (or some other spiritual realm), but of sharing in the life of God Himself. This life bound up in the Logos has become manifest in the incarnate Logos – the man, Jesus the Messiah, and it is in Him as man that human beings obtain it. Contrary to the common belief in John’s day, the life of eternity doesn’t come to humans as they shed their bodies; they enter into it precisely as fully human creatures, body and spirit, albeit in two stages (cf. John 5:24, 6:47, 54 and Ephesians 2:4-6 with 1 Corinthians 15 and Philippians 3:20-21; also Romans 6:1-11). Though perhaps lost on modern readers, John’s point here was an intentional contradiction of and challenge to the pagan “wisdom” (Gnostic and otherwise) that was already infecting the Christian community.
4. The “Word of Life” John proclaimed to his readers is the actual Logos that had come into the world in the human person of Jesus of Nazareth. Moreover, this man had been put to death and then raised to life, not in the pagan sense of His spirit being liberated from His dead body to ascend into a heavenly realm, but in resurrection in a transformed physical body (John 20:19-29; Luke 24:13-43). John himself was a witness of these things, as were many others (hence the “we” of verses 1-5). He was declaring nothing other than what he had personally witnessed and experienced – not by means of a spiritual vision or philosophical contemplation, but with his own physical eyes, ears and hands (1:3a). However absurd and unbelievable an incarnate and resurrected Logos might appear to people steeped in Gnostic or Greek philosophical thought, it was the truth. And if the divine Logos is something other than what men believe it to be, it follows that the life derived from the Logos also needs to be reconsidered. John had come to understand that, irrespective of Gnostic and Greek notions and convictions, the life of eternity must be defined in terms of a human being – the human Messiah and Son of God – in whom it exists in all truth and fullness. People must know Him to know life as it actually is; even more importantly, they must share in Him in order to possess this life.
5. John’s goal was to call his readers back to the true Logos – the Word of Life that came into the world as the man, Jesus the Messiah. Contrary to Gnostic thinking, the Logos doesn’t impart life by imparting esoteric knowledge or wisdom, but by imparting Himself. Authentic life – the life of the eternal realm which God enjoys – comes through personal union with the incarnate Logos who has life in Himself (John 5:26, 6:53-54), life which He possesses together with the Father. This truth clarifies the connection John drew between eternal life in the Word of Life and fellowship (1:2-3). First and foremost, this fellowship is relational intimacy deriving from shared life: Humans enjoy this fellowship when they share in the divine life (John 14:1-20, 17:20-24; Ephesians 2:11-22, 4:1-6; Colossians 3; 1 Peter 2:4-10). And because the Father and Son possess this life together, sharing in the divine life yields fellowship with both Son and Father. But it also yields a new, living fellowship with all people who share the one divine life; the members of Jesus are members of one another, not intellectually or religiously, but in their persons; they are one as the Father and Son are one. Yet here John indicated that the fellowship between his readers and him was deficient (v. 3a). It’s possible he was unsure of their union with Christ; more probably he was pointing to the truth that Christian fellowship in practice requires being “of one mind” in Christ (1 Corinthians 1:10; Philippians 2:1-4). These were radical ideas in a world in which “life” was understood in purely personal terms as the perfection of one’s own knowledge and inward existence. People might find a kind of fellowship with those on the same spiritual journey, but not the fellowship John knew and pursued. The fellowship he spoke of isn’t a matter of common goal, knowledge or experience, but common-union: True human fellowship has its essence in fellowship with God consisting in union with Him in Christ Jesus by His Spirit. And this divine human fellowship binds together in one all who share in it. Gathered up into the life of the triune God, Christians are gathered into one organism in the Spirit. In this common union they experience the joy God ordained for them. This was the joy John knew and wanted for his readers. And like his Lord, John understood that his own joy would be complete when his joy became theirs (1:4; cf. John 15:1-11, 16:20-24, 17:6-13).
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 15:48:26 GMT -5
B. Walking in the Light (1:5-10) In his prologue John emphasized that his witness to Jesus was according to what he’d personally experienced, not only as one of Jesus’ inner circle during the time of His earthly ministry, but also after His resurrection. John had personally seen, heard and handled the resurrected Messiah as well as the incarnate one. That extended physical encounter, not some mystical experience or mythical notion, was the substance of his proclamation (and that of the other eyewitnesses). John reaffirmed his experience of “the Christ” in this epistle, not simply to refute the Gnostic notions infiltrating the churches, but to solidify and nurture the true knowledge, faith and faithful practice of the community of believers with whom he was involved. Toward that end, John began with one of the most fundamental truths concerning God – the God who has fully disclosed Himself in Jesus and whom Jesus Himself proclaimed. That truth is that God is light (1:5). He then followed this affirmation with a series of five conditional sentences expressing important implications of this truth (1:6-10). A conditional sentence is a grammatical form that consists of an “if” statement followed by a “then” statement. Koine (New Testament) Greek has four such forms, with each form expressing a different relation between the “if” clause (called the protasis) and the “then” clause (called the apodosis). In each case, the idea is that the apodosis follows from the protasis, which is to say, the truth or reality of the apodosis is grounded in the truth or reality of the protasis. In the present passage, all five of the conditional sentences share the same grammatical form as conditions of the third class. This third-class form expresses the idea of probability: If the condition expressed by the protasis is realized, there is some probability that the condition expressed by the apodosis will also be realized. The context determines the degree of probability. Conditional sentences are common in this epistle and it’s easy to see why. They pose a situation or condition and then provide the implication or outcome. In this way they are a perfect vehicle for conveying John’s intent: His goal in writing was to reassert to his readers what is true and what the truth implies and required of them. These five conditional sentences are arranged in two sections (1:6-7, 8-10). Both sections contain two corresponding statements set in antithesis (if/then, but if/then), but the second one has a third statement that punctuates the point made by the other two (v. 1. In this way that fifth and final conditional sentence (v. 10) brings the passage to its climax. It’s also important to note that both sections share the same underlying concern, namely the obligation Christians have to live out their union with God in Christ faithfully and authentically. But they approach it in two different ways: The first section speaks metaphorically using the concepts of light and darkness while the second one speaks directly using plain language.
1. Again, John introduced this passage with a fundamental premise which underlies the subsequent conditional sentences and provides the lens through which they are to be understood. That premise is that God is light, which implies the corollary premise that He has no connection with darkness. This corollary derives from the fact that light and darkness as physical entities are mutually exclusive: Where the one is present, the other is absent; each precludes the other. So it follows that, if God is light (whatever that means), then darkness cannot be associated with Him in any form or manner.
The place to begin is to understand the scriptural image of light and how it pertains to God. The first mention of light in the Scripture occurs in the creation account. There, God introduced light as the first aspect of His process of ordering and filling the empty and chaotic creation (Genesis 1:3-4). While the text associates light with God’s command and not His person, it implies that light derives from God and isn’t inherent in the creation. In and of itself, the creation is characterized by darkness – the “darkness” of disorder and emptiness (Genesis 1:2). From that point on, the Scripture always sets light and darkness alongside each other as antithetical principles. In particular, light speaks to God’s activity in the world which counteracts and dispels its darkness – especially in connection with His restorative work in His Messiah-Servant (ref. Isaiah 9:1-7, 30:26, 42:1-16, 49:1-13, 51:1-5, 60:1-22). In relation to God’s person, light signifies the qualities of knowledge and understanding, truth and integrity, purity, power and transcendence (cf. Psalm 19:8 43:3, 104:1-2, 119:105; Isaiah 10:17; Ezekiel 1; etc.). God is truthful because He is the substance and source of all truth. And because He cannot deny Himself, God is free of every form and manifestation of untruth, whether in his understanding, will, motives, words or deeds; thus John is absolute in declaring that “in Him there is no darkness at all.” The duality of light and darkness was a common theme in the ancient world, often conceived in terms of two opposing powers always striving for dominance in the world. In this way of thinking, light and darkness represent the two fundamental dimensions of reality. Gnosticism embraced this dualism, associating light with the divine and man’s participation in it through gnosis (transcendent knowledge) and darkness with the material world and man in his natural state. Gnostics – and Gnostic “Christians” – affirmed the spiritual principle that light opposes and dispels darkness, but their understanding of it was very different from John’s and his fellow eye-witnesses to Jesus the Messiah. They defined the relationship between light and darkness differently because they defined the spiritual concepts of light and darkness differently.
2. All people recognize that physical light and darkness are mutually exclusive; they cannot both be present at the same place and time. Light drives out darkness, not because it is the greater among two opposing powers, but because darkness is privation; darkness is merely the absence of light. Light expresses presence, darkness expresses absence. Thus God’s presence brought light into the privation of the initial disordered, empty creation. So it is with the new creation: By His light in His Messiah, God is interjecting the light of life into the empty lifelessness of His creation which exists in the darkness of alienation (cf. Isaiah 45:18-22 with John 1:3-13, 3:1-21, 8:12, 12:31-46; also 2 Corinthians 4:1-6). Where God’s light is present, darkness is driven out. This is the principle behind John’s argument in his first two conditional sentences (1:6-7).
a. The first thing to note is John’s meaning in using the term fellowship. Again, fellowship isn’t cordial interaction or the sharing of mutual interests; it is the relational intimacy that results from one’s union with God in Christ. It is the fellowship of person-to-person communion through the shared Spirit.
Secondly, it’s important to understand John’s expression, “walking in the darkness.” This is a common biblical idea that speaks to a pattern of life at odds with God’s truth and mind (Psalm 82:5; Proverbs 2:11-13; Ecclesiastes 2:14; cf. also John 8:12). It is human existence in the absence of fellowship with God (as defined above) and so is the manner of life experienced by every human being in his natural state – the manner of life of those separated from the life of the God who is light (cf. Psalm 18:28, 74:16-20, 107:1-14; Isaiah 9:1-2, 42:1-6, 49:1-9, 59:1-14, 60:1-5; also Ephesians 4:17-19). This explains why John saw fellowship with God and a life lived in darkness as mutually exclusive: The one who has this fellowship shares in God’s life and God is light. The implication, then, is that this person is himself defined by light. But light cannot coexist with darkness, so that the presence of darkness in the one claiming fellowship indicates the presence of a lie: either the lie of fellowship with God or the lie of contradicting that fellowship. In this instance, John seems to have been referring to the latter: The Christian who walks in the darkness is failing to live out (“practice”) the truth. Several things point in this direction:
- First, John treated this situation universally: “If we say that we have fellowship with Him…” This is not the “we” of the prologue which pertained to eyewitnesses to Jesus’ life and resurrection, but the “we” of all who might profess fellowship with God. Thus John included himself.
- Secondly, John spoke of practicing the truth. This verb refers to one’s practical activities and conduct – what one does as a matter of practice, indicating that John’s concern was practical conformity to the truth of one’s fellowship with God, not the actual reality of that fellowship. This interpretation is reinforced by John’s inclusion of himself; he, too, could find himself failing to live out in his daily practice the truth of his fellowship with God (note again v. 3).
- Finally, John’s grammar also suggests this meaning. Again, John used a third-class condition which expresses the idea of expectation (probability). He wanted to convey to his readers his confidence that there are individuals who believe they have fellowship with God while yet living lives characterized (at least somewhat) by darkness. Thus they were guilty of not “doing the truth” – in their minds, if not in their words and deeds. This is an important observation, especially if John was indeed addressing Gnostic influences infiltrating the churches. For the Gnostic Christians regarded themselves as faithful disciples of God’s “Christ” and they very likely were living disciplined lives consistent with their profession. But if they were being led astray to a false Messiah, they were no longer “practicing the truth” even if their behavior was devout. Following after a pseudo-Christ, they were lying against the truth of their fellowship with God which was bound up in the true Messiah.
b. On the other hand, those who “walk in the light” demonstrate (prove out) their fellowship with God (1:7a). Those who “walk in darkness” lie against the truth of their fellowship with God, whereas those who “walk in the light” are truth-tellers for all the world to see. Their practice, as much as their words, bears witness to the Messiah and what the living God has accomplished in Him. Their daily lives, radiating light into the dark world, testify that fellowship with Him consists, not in esoteric knowledge, piety or self-discipline, but in new creation – in becoming “light in the Lord” (Ephesians 5:8). Fellowship with God is the intimacy of person-in-person union and communion; it consists in the new human existence that is life hidden with Jesus the Messiah in the living God (cf. 2 Corinthians 5:17 with Romans 6:1-11, 8:1-11; Ephesians 2:11-22; Colossians 3:1-4). John’s logic, then, is very simple and straightforward: God is light and inhabits the light (1 Timothy 6:13-16); so fellowship with Him involves sharing in His life and likeness by His indwelling and renewing Spirit. Fellowship, then, involves sharing in the nature of the God who is light and inhabiting the realm of light He inhabits as those raised up in Christ and seated in the “heavenlies” (cf. Ephesians 2:1-6; Philippians 3:17-21; Colossians 3:1-4). God’s radiant glory no longer fills the Holy of Holies, but His new human sanctuary built on the cornerstone of His Son (cf. John 1:14-18, 2:13-21, 4:19-24 with 1 Corinthians 3:16-17, 6:19; Ephesians 2:11-22; 1 Peter 2:4-5). God’s light is now present in the world in His living sanctuary – the children of light who aren’t concealed behind a veil, removed from the sight of men, but luminaries who shine openly in the midst of the world’s darkness (Philippians 2:1-16; Ephesians 5:1-17). All who “walk in the light as He is in the light” live out the truth of their fellowship with God and mature in it. But so it is with their fellowship with one another; the children of light who walk in the light walk together. The converse is also true: Failing to practice the truth impedes and compromises one’s fellowship with God and it has the same effect on the fellowship among God’s children. Two cannot walk together except they be together (Amos 3:3) – not as a matter of proximity, but of genuine unity; they must share one mind and purpose. So John’s phrase, “fellowship with one another,” seems to suggest both arenas of fellowship: It looks backward to the individual Christian’s walk with God in the light and forward to the mutuality of shared cleansing. This fellowship dynamic underlies John’s summary assertion about cleansing from sin (1:7b) and it is crucial to discerning his meaning. John wasn’t identifying a cause/effect relationship between obedience and cleansing from sin; much less was he suggesting that obedience renders Jesus’ atonement effectual. So also John wasn’t referring to the “washing of regeneration,” but ongoing cleansing that accompanies “walking in the light.” Furthermore, this cleansing is from sin, which term has the basic sense of falling short of what is right or fitting. Such “sin” is perpetual in the Christian’s life, even when he is “walking” faithfully with the Lord. John was affirming the reassuring truth that God desires fellowship with His children, not perfection; if we’ll pursue the former, He’ll address the latter.
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 15:51:21 GMT -5
3. The second section consists of the last three conditional sentences (1:8-10). These are all closely related in that they deal with the issue of sin. Once again, the first two form a contrasting pair, just as was the case with the former statements regarding darkness and light. The third and final conditional sentence in this section, then, forms a capstone that closes out the passage. Before considering vv. 8-10 in detail, it’s worth noting that this passage has been debated from the early period of church history. The Council of Carthage (418 A.D.) referenced it in its dispute with Pelagian doctrine and the Catholic Church’s position regarding sin and concupiscence was thought to find support in John’s statements about sin’s continuing presence in the Christian’s life. Of course, the effect of using this passage as a proof-text was that John’s meaning tended to be obscured as later theological notions and formulations were read back into his words. He was made to say what he wasn’t saying and his statements were then used as biblical vindication of a particular doctrine. The result is that John’s statements are often read through the lens of assumed premises and traditional interpretations (whether Roman Catholic, Reformed, Fundamentalist, etc.); the reader is engaging the text through a pair of glasses he doesn’t even know he’s wearing. The problem of interpretation is made more difficult by the fact that John seems to later contradict what he says here. Here he states unequivocally that sin continues in a believer’s life; in 3:4-6 he insists that the one who abides in Christ does not sin and anyone who does sin does not know God. These apparent contradictions and the absoluteness of John’s statements have provided rich fodder to theologians and scholars and have fueled endless debates through the centuries. Once again, the key to deriving John’s meaning is the reader inserting himself into John’s own context; he must come to the text recognizing that he’s reading someone else’s mail. John didn’t pen this correspondence to a Medieval or Reformation audience, much less a modern one. He wrote to first century Christians out of concern that influences among them were corrupting the truth of the gospel of Jesus the Messiah and so compromising their faith in Him. He feared that, in the name of following the Messiah as His devoted disciples, some were actually forsaking Him for an idol. These corrupting influences almost certainly included nascent Gnostic ideas together with other philosophical and pagan constructs that formed the Graeco-Roman worldview and gave birth to Gnosticism. The teachings of Cerinthus and the Docetists were already infiltrating the Christian community in the first century and it’s not unlikely that John’s readers were being exposed to them. This historical context, then, is the lens through which we must consider John’s words and his meaning.
a. John’s first statement in this section speaks directly to the matter of ongoing sin: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us” (v. 8). As discussed previously, the Graeco-Roman worldview maintained a fundamental distinction between the material and the immaterial. Even outside of Gnostic doctrine, the common belief was that the human soul is eternal while the physical body is transient and destined for destruction. The soul is the complete reality of the person; the body is just a temporary shell. And so people weren’t looking for the resurrection of their body, but their soul’s liberation from their body so that they could attain to their ultimate perfection as spiritual creatures free of the constraint and imperfection of physical existence.
This way of thinking resulted in different views concerning “sin,” (understood not simply as wrongful behavior, but deviation from the truth and the perfection associated with it). - At the one extreme, some believed that what a person does with his body doesn’t touch his spirit, which is his true self. The body and spirit are separate entities, so that “sins of the flesh” only affect the body. And since the body is given over to decay and destined for destruction, its activities and their outcomes are ultimately irrelevant. - At the other extreme, some believed that the body’s inherent corruption and impermanence are reason to strive to be as free of its influence as possible. The former view encouraged a libertine lifestyle (feel free to indulge your fleshly appetites because your spirit remains untouched and uncorrupted); this second view resulted in an ascetic one (deny your flesh and its needs and desires to the fullest extent possible). John may have been addressing one or both of these perspectives (and other variations of them). For those in the first group could have argued that they have no sin because their spirit – their actual self – is not impacted by their deeds in the body. So the latter group might have argued that their rigorous self-denial choked off all exertions of the flesh, leaving them free of sin. It’s also likely there were Christians who believed that new life in Jesus under the power of the Spirit rendered them free of sin. After all, didn’t the apostles teach that Christians have died to sin (Romans 5:19-6:11, 8:1-4; 1 Peter 2:24, 4:1; 1 John 3:4-9)? Indeed, various versions of this view have persisted in the Church to the present day. But, whatever premises and notions might underlie the conviction of sinlessness, John insisted that those who embrace it are self-deceived and rob themselves of the truth. Again, sin denotes any human exertion – in thought, attitude, desire, word or deed – that deviates from or falls short of the truth as it exists in God and as He has made it known in His Son. Unless a person can rightly claim – as Jesus did – that to see him is to see the Father, he cannot say “I have no sin.” And no one can make this claim until he is fully conformed, body and spirit, to the life of the resurrected Messiah (cf. 1 John 3:2-3 with Romans 8:9-25; 1 Corinthians 13).
b. Christians who claim to be without sin are self-deluded, walking in the darkness as those estranged from the truth. On the other hand, those who know and practice the truth – those who walk in the light as God Himself is in the light – recognize sin’s ongoing presence and influence and address it consciously and purposefully. In John’s words, they confess their sins (1:9). Confession is a critically important scriptural concept, but one that is frequently misunderstood. The Greek term is a compound word that literally translates, speak the same thing. In scriptural usage, it connotes open agreement with God’s truth – speaking the “word” that He speaks. Confession isn’t admitting to bad behavior, but sharing God’s perspective and giving voice to it. Confession is a person’s amen to God’s truth on a matter.
The premise and ground of confession, then, is sharing God’s mind. In terms of John’s argument in this passage, confession is the natural human expression of fellowship with God; it is a core dimension of “walking in the light” and “practicing the truth.” This is the reason that confession solicits forgiveness and cleansing: The confessing person is “one mind” with God (at least with respect to the matter at hand) and this unity of mind reflects the reality of a life “hidden with Christ in God” – a person who shares in God’s life and mind by His indwelling and transforming Spirit. Of course God forgives and cleanses that individual; He is unchangeably committed to completing what He has begun (cf. Philippians 1:6; 2 Timothy 1:1-12). And so the relationship between confession and forgiveness and cleansing isn’t one of cause and effect (confess and then God will forgive), but of the integrity and consistency of God, His truth and His work. The God who has imparted to a person His Son’s life and mind – the life and mind that are His own (John 5:1-27) – will surely perfect that work of renewal and transformation. In John’s words, God is “faithful and righteous” – that is, He is fully committed to that which is right according to His purposes.
c. John’s final conditional statement closes out the passage with a summary observation that moves the argument beyond the professing believer to God Himself: The one who claims to have not sinned makes God a liar (v. 10). The truth isn’t in him with respect to himself (v. 8), but perhaps more importantly, it isn’t in him with respect to God. For the one who holds a distorted image of himself is at odds with the truth as God knows it; he assesses himself differently than God does (“God’s word isn’t in him”), and so effectively makes Him a liar. The self-deceived person is the one guilty of lying, but by acquitting himself, he points his finger at God, accusing Him of falseness (cf. 2:4, 22, 4:20, 5:10). Some regard verse 10 as repeating the same idea expressed in 1:8. But John used two different verb tenses, which suggests that he was making a slightly different point. Verse 8 refers to sin as a present reality for Christians, while verse 10 considers it as a past phenomenon. The latter denial is especially problematic, for what Christian (“if we say…”) would ever claim to have not sinned? The very reality of faith in Christ is grounded in awareness of personal sin and the need of cleansing and forgiveness. Thus some scholars conclude that John was referring to a claim of sinlessness after becoming a Christian. This interpretation is more reasonable and also fits well with verse 8, where the denial pertains to sin as a present, continuing reality (“we have no sin…”). The second claim, then, enlarges the first one: There is no sin in my present experience, for my life has been free of sin since I embraced Jesus in faith and was given new life in Him. Gnostic ideas might have nurtured this sort of conviction regarding sin, but it was also consistent with Jewish thinking during that period, for many Jews believed that the messianic age would see the elimination of all sin and uncleanness. The prophets and other Jewish texts spoke in this way (cf. Isaiah 40:1-2, 43:16-25, 44:21-28, 53:1-6; Jeremiah 31:31-34, 33:1-16; Zechariah 3:1-10, 13:1-2, 14:9-11; esp. Daniel 9:24) and Jesus accomplished this purging. He did eradicate sin in terms of its guilt and dominion, but not its existence or influence (so 1 John 2:1).
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 15:54:10 GMT -5
C. Walking in the Messiah (2:1-11) Many scholars regard chapter two as a new context distinct from the first chapter. They especially note John’s direct address to his readers in verse 2:1: “My little children, I am writing to you…” To some this indicates that John was changing direction, for in the previous passage John included himself in the scenarios he described (“If we... then we…”). But a wider glance shows that 2:1-2 doesn’t change the subject, but rather develops it further by making Jesus the Messiah the focal point. It’s not that John introduced the person of Jesus at this point – he’d already spoken of His blood cleansing His people from their sin (1:7). But he here shifts the focus to Jesus by indicating that “walking in the light” means walking in the Messiah – walking as Jesus walked, which is to live one’s life conformed to the truth as it is in Him (2:3-6).
1. John continues the same line of thought in the first eleven verses of chapter two, but with a new focus on Jesus and his readers’ relationship with Him. Verses 1-2 serve as John’s transition, carrying forward his contention regarding sin while also introducing Jesus as the focal point in the Christian’s interaction with his sin: The one who denies the reality of personal sin is either self-deceived or disingenuous or both; at the same time, the one who recognizes his sin needs to also recognize that he has an advocate with the Father.
a. The natural tendency for people is to deny or gloss over their sinfulness (however they might define it). Christians aren’t exempt from this, though they may be driven by different motivations than their unbelieving counterparts. Some may actually believe they’re free of sin, but most would only claim to be relatively sinless. Two things tend to underlie this sort of confidence: the absence of flagrant sin and an uncritical eye. The first reflects a narrow and imprecise understanding of sin and the second the casual application of that imprecision to one’s own self. Fear and self-interest can also drive a Christian’s concern with sinlessness. In this case, sin is seen as a barrier to God’s love and favor. On the one hand, sin incurs God’s punishment; on the other, it prevents His outpoured blessings. But whatever the reasons for Christians denying or minimizing their sin, John wanted his readers to recognize and embrace, not only the fact of their sin (1:8, 10), but the goodness and provision that attend it. By this he wasn’t giving license to sin; quite the opposite, he was writing with the goal that his words would hinder it (2:1a). As he did for himself, John longed that his beloved children in the faith would know freedom from sin, but he also wanted them to understand and take comfort in the fact that their heavenly Father was at work in their sin and has made provision for it: He has appointed them an advocate. An advocate is a person who acts on behalf of another, whether in word or action. The Greek noun (paraclete) has the literal sense of a person who is called alongside and John alone used it – here in relation to Jesus and elsewhere as a title for the Holy Spirit (ref. John 14:16, 26, 15:26, 16:7). The term has broad scriptural connotations, including such ideas as assistance, consolation, encouragement, protection, instruction and intercession as well as formal advocacy. This makes it impossible to capture its meaning with any one word.
Here John identified Jesus as the Christian’s Paraclete (rendered “advocate” by most English versions), but His role as Paraclete and that of the Spirit are closely related. For the Spirit serves this function as Jesus’ indwelling presence; in Jesus’ own words, the Spirit is another Paraclete like Him, sent by Him to be His presence with His people (cf. John 14:1-3, 16-20, also 16:13-15; cf. also Romans 8:9-11; Acts 16:7; Philippians 1:19-20). The Spirit fulfills Jesus’ paraclete role as comforter, encourager, protector, instructor and intercessor. But John had in mind a particular ministration that he ascribed to Jesus Himself: He stands as the Advocate on behalf of His own in His Father’s presence (cf. Hebrews 9:24).
b. John wanted his readers to find comfort and strength in the truth that Jesus Himself acts as His people’s advocate before His Father. If they believed the presence of sin in their life alienated or separated them from their God, they were mistaken. The resurrected and glorified Messiah, seated at the right hand of God, was continually interceding for them, pleading His triumph and its fruitfulness according to His Father’s purpose for the world, not their efforts or sinlessness (Romans 8). Jesus is the righteous one – the unique Servant-Son who fully shares His Father’s mind and unchanging will for the world He loves (cf. John 3:16-17 with Acts 3:1-26, 6:8-7:60, 21:37-22:21). He is the “righteous one” because He is one with His Father and this is why His advocacy prevails; when He intercedes for His own, He is pleading His Father’s own heart, mind and will. So John Stott has aptly noted: “It is not a case of the loving Jesus pleading with the just God, but the just Jesus in the presence of the God who is love” (cf. 4:16-18).
c. Jesus is the saints’ effectual advocate with the Father, but specifically as He is the propitiation for their sins (2:2). Only John used this Greek noun (as with the term paraclete), and the only other usage is in this epistle (ref. 4:10). There is a related form that also appears twice in the New Testament: once in Romans in relation to Jesus’ cross work (3:25) and once in Hebrews where it denotes the “mercy seat” – that is, the gold cover of the ark of the covenant (9:5). (In this regard, the Hebrews writer was following the Septuagint – the Greek version of the Old Testament – which renders the Hebrew term “mercy seat” with the same word.) These considerations give some sense of the difficulty of precisely determining John’s meaning. If he had propitiation in mind, this concept has to do with resolving estrangement. The connection with the mercy seat, then, is obvious, for the mercy seat was the place where Israel’s high priest sprinkled the blood of the sin offering on the Day of Atonement (ref. Leviticus 16:1-34). This elaborate annual ritual addressed the guilt and uncleanness of the Israelite people and the sanctuary which their sin defiled. It made atonement for them and purged the defilement of the place where they encountered God and so restored the covenant relationship between them and Him. The mercy seat was the place of propitiation (reconciliation) and the Yom Kippur atoning ritual was the focal point in that work. Thus propitiation and atonement by sin offering are closely related in the Scriptures and Israel’s history; John would have understood this and it seems he was making this connection in this context (cf. 1:7, 9 with Hebrews 2:17).
At the same time, John gave some hint that he was treating the issue in a nuanced way. First of all, he didn’t say that Jesus provided propitiation for sin, but that He is propitiation. He didn’t refer to Jesus’ atoning death, but to Jesus Himself as propitiation. Secondly, the context is concerned with how Christians perceive their sin. And perhaps most importantly, John connected this idea of Jesus as propitiation with His advocacy in the presence of His Father. It seems, then, that John was using the term propitiation to refer, not to Jesus’ atoning death (as in 4:10), but to a dimension of His rule and mediation as enthroned King. This understanding reinforces the relational nature of propitiation as bringing two parties together. In other words, Jesus as continual propitiation for the sins of His people speaks to the new relational dynamic between Him, them and His Father (ref. John 14:18-20, 17:20-23) and not to His atonement as such. To the extent that this “propitiation” has to do with appeasement, Jesus appeases His Father – that is, addresses relational distance – as the One in whom Father and children are reconciled and bound together in love and everlasting communion in the Spirit.
d. In this context, then, propitiation has to do with the new relationship between Father, Son and reconciled children. But this propitiation reaches beyond them; in John’s words, Jesus’ role as propitiatory Paraclete extends to “the whole world” (2:2b). Reflecting the scriptural connection between propitiation and atonement for sin, various English versions insert the words, “the sins of,” into the phrase “the whole world”: “He Himself is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world.” John’s statement allows for this meaning (especially his phrase, “and not ours only”) but it’s not certain. He specifically connected Jesus as propitiation with two distinct objects: our sins and the whole world, which suggests that John had in mind the universal scope of Jesus’ heavenly mediation (cf. Matthew 28:18; Acts 2:32-36; Ephesians 1:18-23; Philippians 2:5-11), not the issue of personal salvation. His point wasn’t that Jesus’ atoning death applies to all people (which it does), but that He stands in the Father’s presence as having reconciled the whole creation to Him (Colossians 1:19-20). And if Jesus has accomplished this cosmic reconciliation according to the will of His Father to ultimately “sum up everything in the heavens and earth” in Him, then John’s readers could be assured that He was continually “propitiating” His Father as their Advocate concerning their sin. This advocacy presumes Jesus’ atonement at Calvary, but it looks beyond that to the everlasting relationship of union and communion that atoning work secured – union and communion between the Creator and the creation He loves and wills to inhabit as loving Lord and Father (Revelation 21-22). And so Jesus is the propitiation “concerning the whole world,” not merely with respect to human sin, but the creation’s estrangement. John had in mind what Israel’s prophets proclaimed and Paul stressed in his epistles: Liberation and renewal of the cursed creation is the goal and ultimate fruit of the Messiah’s work on Yahweh’s behalf. More than simply the salvation of individual people, Jesus’ propitiatory mediation looks toward the creation’s restoration in a new heavens and new earth.
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 15:59:47 GMT -5
C. Walking in the Messiah (2:1-11) Many scholars regard chapter two as a new context distinct from the first chapter. They especially note John’s direct address to his readers in verse 2:1: “My little children, I am writing to you…” To some this indicates that John was changing direction, for in the previous passage John included himself in the scenarios he described (“If we... then we…”). But a wider glance shows that 2:1-2 doesn’t change the subject, but rather develops it further by making Jesus the Messiah the focal point. It’s not that John introduced the person of Jesus at this point – he’d already spoken of His blood cleansing His people from their sin (1:7). But he here shifts the focus to Jesus by indicating that “walking in the light” means walking in the Messiah – walking as Jesus walked, which is to live one’s life conformed to the truth as it is in Him (2:3-6). 1. John continues the same line of thought in the first eleven verses of chapter two, but with a new focus on Jesus and his readers’ relationship with Him. Verses 1-2 serve as John’s transition, carrying forward his contention regarding sin while also introducing Jesus as the focal point in the Christian’s interaction with his sin: The one who denies the reality of personal sin is either self-deceived or disingenuous or both; at the same time, the one who recognizes his sin needs to also recognize that he has an advocate with the Father. a. The natural tendency for people is to deny or gloss over their sinfulness (however they might define it). Christians aren’t exempt from this, though they may be driven by different motivations than their unbelieving counterparts. Some may actually believe they’re free of sin, but most would only claim to be relatively sinless. Two things tend to underlie this sort of confidence: the absence of flagrant sin and an uncritical eye. The first reflects a narrow and imprecise understanding of sin and the second the casual application of that imprecision to one’s own self. Fear and self-interest can also drive a Christian’s concern with sinlessness. In this case, sin is seen as a barrier to God’s love and favor. On the one hand, sin incurs God’s punishment; on the other, it prevents His outpoured blessings. But whatever the reasons for Christians denying or minimizing their sin, John wanted his readers to recognize and embrace, not only the fact of their sin (1:8, 10), but the goodness and provision that attend it. By this he wasn’t giving license to sin; quite the opposite, he was writing with the goal that his words would hinder it (2:1a). As he did for himself, John longed that his beloved children in the faith would know freedom from sin, but he also wanted them to understand and take comfort in the fact that their heavenly Father was at work in their sin and has made provision for it: He has appointed them an advocate. An advocate is a person who acts on behalf of another, whether in word or action. The Greek noun (paraclete) has the literal sense of a person who is called alongside and John alone used it – here in relation to Jesus and elsewhere as a title for the Holy Spirit (ref. John 14:16, 26, 15:26, 16:7). The term has broad scriptural connotations, including such ideas as assistance, consolation, encouragement, protection, instruction and intercession as well as formal advocacy. This makes it impossible to capture its meaning with any one word. 23 Here John identified Jesus as the Christian’s Paraclete (rendered “advocate” by most English versions), but His role as Paraclete and that of the Spirit are closely related. For the Spirit serves this function as Jesus’ indwelling presence; in Jesus’ own words, the Spirit is another Paraclete like Him, sent by Him to be His presence with His people (cf. John 14:1-3, 16-20, also 16:13-15; cf. also Romans 8:9-11; Acts 16:7; Philippians 1:19-20). The Spirit fulfills Jesus’ paraclete role as comforter, encourager, protector, instructor and intercessor. But John had in mind a particular ministration that he ascribed to Jesus Himself: He stands as the Advocate on behalf of His own in His Father’s presence (cf. Hebrews 9:24). b. John wanted his readers to find comfort and strength in the truth that Jesus Himself acts as His people’s advocate before His Father. If they believed the presence of sin in their life alienated or separated them from their God, they were mistaken. The resurrected and glorified Messiah, seated at the right hand of God, was continually interceding for them, pleading His triumph and its fruitfulness according to His Father’s purpose for the world, not their efforts or sinlessness (Romans 8). Jesus is the righteous one – the unique Servant-Son who fully shares His Father’s mind and unchanging will for the world He loves (cf. John 3:16-17 with Acts 3:1-26, 6:8-7:60, 21:37-22:21). He is the “righteous one” because He is one with His Father and this is why His advocacy prevails; when He intercedes for His own, He is pleading His Father’s own heart, mind and will. So John Stott has aptly noted: “It is not a case of the loving Jesus pleading with the just God, but the just Jesus in the presence of the God who is love” (cf. 4:16-18). c. Jesus is the saints’ effectual advocate with the Father, but specifically as He is the propitiation for their sins (2:2). Only John used this Greek noun (as with the term paraclete), and the only other usage is in this epistle (ref. 4:10). There is a related form that also appears twice in the New Testament: once in Romans in relation to Jesus’ cross work (3:25) and once in Hebrews where it denotes the “mercy seat” – that is, the gold cover of the ark of the covenant (9:5). (In this regard, the Hebrews writer was following the Septuagint – the Greek version of the Old Testament – which renders the Hebrew term “mercy seat” with the same word.) These considerations give some sense of the difficulty of precisely determining John’s meaning. If he had propitiation in mind, this concept has to do with resolving estrangement. The connection with the mercy seat, then, is obvious, for the mercy seat was the place where Israel’s high priest sprinkled the blood of the sin offering on the Day of Atonement (ref. Leviticus 16:1-34). This elaborate annual ritual addressed the guilt and uncleanness of the Israelite people and the sanctuary which their sin defiled. It made atonement for them and purged the defilement of the place where they encountered God and so restored the covenant relationship between them and Him. The mercy seat was the place of propitiation (reconciliation) and the Yom Kippur atoning ritual was the focal point in that work. Thus propitiation and atonement by sin offering are closely related in the Scriptures and Israel’s history; John would have understood this and it seems he was making this connection in this context (cf. 1:7, 9 with Hebrews 2:17). 24 At the same time, John gave some hint that he was treating the issue in a nuanced way. First of all, he didn’t say that Jesus provided propitiation for sin, but that He is propitiation. He didn’t refer to Jesus’ atoning death, but to Jesus Himself as propitiation. Secondly, the context is concerned with how Christians perceive their sin. And perhaps most importantly, John connected this idea of Jesus as propitiation with His advocacy in the presence of His Father. It seems, then, that John was using the term propitiation to refer, not to Jesus’ atoning death (as in 4:10), but to a dimension of His rule and mediation as enthroned King. This understanding reinforces the relational nature of propitiation as bringing two parties together. In other words, Jesus as continual propitiation for the sins of His people speaks to the new relational dynamic between Him, them and His Father (ref. John 14:18-20, 17:20-23) and not to His atonement as such. To the extent that this “propitiation” has to do with appeasement, Jesus appeases His Father – that is, addresses relational distance – as the One in whom Father and children are reconciled and bound together in love and everlasting communion in the Spirit. d. In this context, then, propitiation has to do with the new relationship between Father, Son and reconciled children. But this propitiation reaches beyond them; in John’s words, Jesus’ role as propitiatory Paraclete extends to “the whole world” (2:2b). Reflecting the scriptural connection between propitiation and atonement for sin, various English versions insert the words, “the sins of,” into the phrase “the whole world”: “He Himself is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world.” John’s statement allows for this meaning (especially his phrase, “and not ours only”) but it’s not certain. He specifically connected Jesus as propitiation with two distinct objects: our sins and the whole world, which suggests that John had in mind the universal scope of Jesus’ heavenly mediation (cf. Matthew 28:18; Acts 2:32-36; Ephesians 1:18-23; Philippians 2:5-11), not the issue of personal salvation. His point wasn’t that Jesus’ atoning death applies to all people (which it does), but that He stands in the Father’s presence as having reconciled the whole creation to Him (Colossians 1:19-20). And if Jesus has accomplished this cosmic reconciliation according to the will of His Father to ultimately “sum up everything in the heavens and earth” in Him, then John’s readers could be assured that He was continually “propitiating” His Father as their Advocate concerning their sin. This advocacy presumes Jesus’ atonement at Calvary, but it looks beyond that to the everlasting relationship of union and communion that atoning work secured – union and communion between the Creator and the creation He loves and wills to inhabit as loving Lord and Father (Revelation 21-22). And so Jesus is the propitiation “concerning the whole world,” not merely with respect to human sin, but the creation’s estrangement. John had in mind what Israel’s prophets proclaimed and Paul stressed in his epistles: Liberation and renewal of the cursed creation is the goal and ultimate fruit of the Messiah’s work on Yahweh’s behalf. More than simply the salvation of individual people, Jesus’ propitiatory mediation looks toward the creation’s restoration in a new heavens and new earth.
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 16:02:46 GMT -5
.2. John transitioned into this section by emphasizing Jesus’ advocacy on behalf of His own, but as it is part of His advocacy for the world He and His Father love. Beginning with verse 3, then, John turned his attention back to Jesus’ followers. Christians are people of the truth as it is in Jesus, and this means that they are to live lives marked by knowledge, insight and conformity to the truth. In the very nature of the case, anyone claiming to be a Christian is making the claim to know Christ (the Messiah of the Scriptures). This may not be obvious to everyone; indeed, many who identify themselves as “Christian” are only making a cultural or religious claim. Some may mean nothing more than that they align with Christianity rather than Islam, Hinduism, or some other religion. To others, being a Christian means upholding “Judeo-Christian” morals, ethics and traditions. But John’s statement points to the crucial truth that a Christian is one who knows the person of Jesus the Messiah. But this raises other important considerations: What does it mean to “know” Jesus and how can a person be certain he has this knowledge? Jesus Himself spoke to the issue of an empty or erroneous knowledge and His apostles followed suit (cf. Matthew 7:21-23; Luke 13:22-30; John 8:31-32; Revelation 2-3 with Acts 8:5-23, 15:1-33; Galatians 3-5; etc.). Indeed, one may argue that imparting and nurturing a true knowledge of Jesus the Messiah is the central thrust of the New Testament scriptures, whether the Gospel accounts or the epistles. And the fact that the epistles – letters directed toward professing Christians – all share this same orientation highlights how readily people can (and do) embrace a “Jesus” of their own creation. The “Jesus” many know and follow exists only in their mind. And even where the true Jesus is the object of knowledge and faith, that faith and knowledge are always corrupted by error and ignorance. The one who supposes he knows in full reveals that he doesn’t know as he ought (ref. 1 Corinthians 8:2; cf. 13:12). Every believer’s knowledge of the Messiah falls short in various ways, but John was here concerned with false knowledge – a false claim to know Jesus (and so God). He addressed this issue from a few vantage points, but the heart of his argument is that true knowledge of Jesus is evident in one’s conformity to Him. This is because knowledge is relational; it is knowing the person of Jesus and not simply truths concerning Him (contra the Gnostics; ref. Ephesians 4:17-24). And one comes to know the person of Jesus by sharing in His life and mind through the renewing and indwelling work of His Spirit. Thus the one who knows Jesus conforms to Him – not simply to His words, but His mind and heart. This is the critical framework for interpreting John’s statements in verses 3-6.
a. John introduced this discussion with the prepositional phrase, “in (by) this,” which immediately raises the question of what the pronoun this refers to. In this instance it’s clear John was referring to the phrase, “keep His commandments.” So also the context shows that John’s pronouns Him and His refer to Jesus throughout these four verses (2:3-6). It is keeping Jesus’ commandments that assures the professing Christian that he has truly come to know Him. John wasn’t the least bit ambiguous about this, making his point both negatively and positively to make sure his readers didn’t miss it: The one who keeps Jesus’ commandments has the truth on his side when he claims to know Him; the one who fails to keep them shows that his claim to know Jesus is a lie (2:3-4; cf. 1:6-7).
John was clear and forthright that authentic knowledge of Christ and obedience to Him go hand in hand; one cannot presume the former without the latter. There’s no doubt regarding John’s words, but discerning his meaning is another matter. This is where the surrounding context is so critically important; taking John’s statements in verses 3-4 in isolation can easily result in an interpretation that contradicts what John (and Jesus) actually taught about obedience.
b. Verses 5-6 are the immediate point of reference for interpreting John’s meaning as they directly reflect and clarify verses 3-4. Taken together, these four verses first of all show that John equated Jesus’ commandments with His word. He wasn’t referring to a specific set of commandments (let alone the so-called “moral law”), but to Jesus’ general instruction to His disciples. John was saying what Jesus Himself emphasized in His final address to the Twelve – the so-called Upper Room discourse John recorded in his gospel account (ref. John 15:1-17). Indeed, John may well have had those words in mind as he penned this instruction (cf. esp. John 15:9-17 with 1 John 2:7-11, 3:21-24, 4:21, 5:2-3). Raymond Brown’s comments are helpful and well-worth noting: “Jesus has received as a command from his Father a total direction of life, covering his words, deeds and death; it is not imposed from the outside, but flows from the fact that he is the Son who acts spontaneously after the pattern of his Father. This ‘commandment’ is, in turn, the prototype for Jesus’ commandment(s) to his disciples. Specifically, He commands them to love one another ‘as I have loved you,’ and his love for them reflects the Father’s love in sending His only Son (3:16). The use of a plural does not mean that Jesus gives to his disciples a number of specific commandments (not recorded in the Gospel of John); rather, the plural gives a comprehensive force to the commandment to love. That commandment involves a whole way of life that relates Christians to one another and to Jesus.” (emphasis added) Brown’s observations are crucially important in that they show the true nature and framework of the Christian’s obligation of obedience to “commandment.” The issue isn’t compliance but conformity: Christian obedience concerns authenticity and the integrity of a life which conforms to the truth and nature of one’s new human existence as sharing in Jesus’ life – the life of God Himself (ref. again 1 John 1:5-7; cf. also John 5:19-27, 6:47-54, 11:20-27 with Romans 6:1-22, 8:1-23; Galatians 2:20; Ephesians 2:1-7, 4:17-24, 5:1-10; Colossians 2:8-14, 3:1-11). Obedience is the intentional, informed pursuit of Christiformity (cf. 2:6 with 1:7), and conformity to Christ entails human existence defined by love. For “God is love” and Jesus is the human embodiment of that love as True God and True Man. To be truly human is to share Jesus’ humanness, which is to embody God’s love as He does (1 John 4:7-17). This is why Paul could insist that love is the fullness (true fulfillment) of every directive and commandment of God’s Torah (ref. Romans 13:8-10; cf. Matthew 7:12, 22:35-40).
This perspective underlies John’s theology of obedience and his instruction in this context. He was burdened that his children in the faith (and all Christians by extension) rightly understand their new life in Christ. On the one hand, this means owning their continuing sinfulness, however mature they may be in their walk; on the other, it means approaching their sin as “new creatures” in Christ. They must address the “old man” – their former way of being human – from the vantage point of the reality, ultimacy and power of the life of the “new man” – the new humanness that defines them as sharers in the life of the Last Adam. Thus John’s insistence that obedience (“keeping Jesus’ commandments”) is the sure mark of knowing Him reflects the fundamental truth that the Christian life is a matter of new creation rather than new conviction or new commitment: Knowing Jesus is identical with being in Him (cf. 2:3a and 2:5b). Anyone can comply with commandments; in itself, this sort of obedience says nothing about one’s knowledge of the person behind the commandments (Matthew 7:21-23; cf. Luke 13:22-30). But the Christian shares in Jesus’ life, and so also His mind and heart, and this unity is the basis and substance of Christian obedience: The Christian is one with his Lord (Romans 8:9-10; 1 Corinthians 2:16, 6:17) and he manifests that oneness in the course and general pattern of his life. The life he lives – if it conforms to the truth – is Jesus living out and perfecting His life in him by His Spirit. Hence the “obedient” Christian testifies of Jesus and bears His fragrance, not his own (cf. John 15:12-27 with 2 Corinthians 2:14-17 and 4:1-12). In John’s words, the one who “abides in Him” walks “as He Himself walked.” In this way a person can know that he is “in Him” (2:5-6; cf. also John 14:18-21). These same truths underlie John’s claim that keeping Jesus’ word is proof of the love of God being perfected in a person (2:5a). This statement can be interpreted two ways based on whether John was referring to God’s love or the person’s love for God. If the latter, then John was saying that the one who keeps Jesus’ word demonstrates that his love for God is true and complete (perfected). But if John was referring to God’s love, then he was saying that the one who keeps Jesus’ word shows that God’s love has been perfected in him. Both the context and the parallel statement in 4:12 suggest this second interpretation, which highlights the triumph of God’s love rather than the Christian’s love. This, then, is John’s meaning: In His Son, God has embodied and brought to its climax His love for the world. Jesus is the incarnation of the divine love and its intent and this incarnate love finds its ultimate realization in those who share in Jesus’ resurrection life as True Man. God’s love, then, is perfected (brought to its intended goal) in a new human family – a family of true sons sharing the life and likeness of the unique Son (cf. 1 John 3:1, 4:7-16; cf. also John 14:1-21, 16:13-15, 17:1-11, 20-26). And so John’s statement, “By this we know that we are in Him…” (2:5b) looks backward and forward: The person who truly is “in Him” (that is, shares in God’s life) is the person in whom God’s love is perfected. And this “perfection” comes through conformity to the One who is the incarnate Word (2:5a). So it is that those “abiding in Him” in truth will “walk as He Himself walked” (2:6).
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 16:05:42 GMT -5
3. The Christian has an obligation of obedience to Jesus’ commandments, so much so that John insisted that obedience demonstrates that a person has come to know Him. For a Christian is one who is in Christ – one who shares in His life by His Spirit. The Christian is one with His Lord and this unity expresses itself in conformity to His mind, affections and will. This is why John defined obedience to Jesus’ commandments as obedience to His word. Such obedience amounts to conformity to Jesus Himself since His spoken “word” reflects and expresses His person as the incarnate Word. Jesus’ words are the truth because they perfectly accord with His person and work and He is Himself the truth (John 1:14-17, 8:31-32, 14:6, 12-21, 16:13-15, 18:37): the truth of God, the truth of man and the truth of God’s purposes for His creation which are centered in man. John was adamant concerning the Christian obligation of authentic obedience, but he wanted his readers to understand that he wasn’t imposing something new on them: The “commandment” he was writing to them was the “word” which they had heard “from the beginning” (2:7). His instruction accorded with what they’d heard and received when they first came to the knowledge of Jesus; it reiterated the commandment Jesus had given to His disciples and which they were to take into the world. That commandment was the obligation of love which is the defining pattern of the new creation Jesus had inaugurated by His death and resurrection (ref. John 15:1-16:15, 17:20-23).
a. John insisted that he wasn’t issuing a new commandment, but only reasserting what his readers had heard “from the beginning.” Some have argued that he was directing his words to those in the community who were undermining the truth of Jesus’ person and work (and perhaps John’s teaching and the things he’d written in his gospel account). If such ones accused John of adding to Jesus’ “word,” the truth was that they were the ones introducing novel ideas; his instruction echoed what he’d received from the Lord and he’d never deviated from it. But there is another dimension to John’s claim that his commandment wasn’t new. John was concerned with the obligation of love, and this obligation preceded Jesus as the marrow of God’s covenant relationship with Israel (ref. again Matthew 22:34-40). Even more, Israel’s obligation of love as Yahweh’s covenant son reflected His requirement of all human beings. For God is love and humans are His image and likeness; therefore, their righteousness – like His – is existence defined and governed by love. In every sense, then, John could insist that the commandment he was referring to is not new. His readers had heard this “word” from the beginning of their exposure to the truth of the Messiah, but it extended all the way back through Israel’s history to the very outset of God’s relationship with His human creature (ref. 1 John 3:11-12).
b. At the same time, John recognized that this former (“old”) commandment was also a new commandment (2:8). This Greek adjective indicates newness related to kind or quality rather than origination (as in newly made) and John indicated the sort of newness he had in mind by associating it with Jesus and those who belong to Him: This new commandment “is true in Him and in you.” The former commandment had now attained a newness in relation to Jesus and His people.
This statement is critically important, for it points to the fundamental concept which underlies everything John believed and taught – indeed everything pertaining to the entire Christ-event and the “good news” it heralded. This concept is the all-encompassing transformation – the new creation – which God had brought about in the person and work of His Messiah-Son. John was reminding his readers of the truth that the former commandment had become new in and through Jesus and so in and through those who share in His resurrection life as the Last Adam and first-fruits of God’s new creation. That is to say, the commandment’s newness was a matter of fulfillment and actual realization, not the imposition of some new demand. The Law commanded Israel’s love and Jesus, who embodied Israel as Yahweh’s faithful covenant son, had fulfilled this commandment by His life and self-giving death. He is defined by love and so, therefore, are those who share in Him as True Man. So John: The commandment has become true – i.e., actualized in human existence and practice – in Him and so in those who know Him as sharers in Him. The commandment is new in the sense that Jesus has fulfilled and transformed it. Its former existence has yielded to its new, “christified” one and John highlighted this dynamic using the imagery of light and darkness: Jesus transformed the commandment by overcoming the former order – the “darkness” – in which the commandment existed and operated. He confronted and conquered the darkness of the “old” creation by the introducing into it the light of His own person: “the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining” (2:8b; cf. Isaiah 9:1-7; Luke 1:67-79; etc.). Again, light and darkness are common themes in John’s writings, light being associated with God’s person, presence, truth and work and darkness as the absence of this light (cf. John 1:1-9, 8:12, 9:5, 12:23-46; 1 John 1:5-7). Darkness, then, is the creational state which results from alienation from the God who is light; it defines the creation under the curse (cf. Psalm 82, 107:1-15, 112:1-4; Isaiah 8:1-9:7, 42:1-16, 49:1-13, 59:1-60:3). Thus the passing of the darkness implies the reintroduction of light in a new day – the dawning new day of the creation’s renewal and restoration to its God.
c. Verses 9-11 make explicit what John implied in verse 5: This former commandment made new in Jesus and His disciples is the obligation of love for the brethren. Again, this “word” was embodied in the Ten Words and, along with its counterpart of love for God, formed the substance of Yahweh’s Torah to Israel. It was a commandment “from the beginning” and John’s readers (whether Jew or Gentile) would have been familiar with it (ref. Acts 15:19-21). This commandment to love was not a new “word,” but it had become new in Jesus so as to become true in Him in a way it wasn’t true before (cf. John 13:34). So also it had become true in His disciples as never before with men: The “old” commandment was “new” for them in the sense that they now enjoyed a new relationship with it. It was formerly commanded of them, but was now being actualized in them. In the Messiah, they were now the sort of people which the commandment specified – people of love who are thus children of God in truth.
John associated this newness with the dispelling of darkness and the intrusion of light, but as a progressing development: The darkness was passing in view of the light already shining, but the new “day” hadn’t yet fully dawned. John saw his time as a time of transition in which the world was moving from darkness to the fullness of light. He knew that the “true light” had come and was dispelling the darkness, but he also recognized that this process wasn’t yet complete; he was living in the “last hour” in which the former order was passing away. This “hour” would culminate with the Messiah’s appearing to bring the everlasting brightness of His presence and rule over His renewed creation (ref. 2:15-3:3). Though John didn’t use the expression, it’s clear he was alluding to the already-but-not-yet nature of the present age and the present form of Christ’s kingdom. The new day of new creation in Jesus has dawned, but the darkness of the former order hasn’t yet passed out of existence (cf. 1:6, 2:9-11; also John 3:19-21, 8:12, 12:35-46).
d. The “new” commandment exists in the sphere of light and so is kept by those who inhabit the light (2:9-10; cf. 1:5-7). But light and darkness are mutually exclusive; they cannot exist together. Darkness is the absence of light, so that light dispels darkness as “something” displaces “nothing.” Thus John’s logic: Love exists only in the realm of light, so that it isn’t found in the realm of darkness. For this reason the one who loves shows by his love that he is a son of light and a son of the day (cf. John 12:35-36; Ephesians 5:8; Philippians 2:12-16; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-8). Conversely, the one who doesn’t love – the one who “hates” – doesn’t dwell in the light and so necessarily remains in the realm of darkness; he continues to live according to the former order of human existence which Jesus condemned and put to death in Himself. For all those outside of Christ, this former order is all they know; they are darkness even as they inhabit it. But for those who’ve entered the light (Colossians 1:1-14), walking in darkness renders them liars: They lie against the truth of themselves and the truth of Jesus’ triumph over the darkness. And as darkness is privation (the absence of light), so also hatred is privation; it is the absence of love. This is a crucial point that must not be missed: Hatred, in its essence, doesn’t concern attitudes, words or actions as such, but a way of being human. Everyone who doesn’t love hates, but love is defined by God Himself and finds its true and full expression in the incarnate Messiah, the True Man. This means that everyone who doesn’t share in His life is characterized by hatred, regardless of his conduct (Titus 3:1-7). Hatred is human existence in the domain of darkness – the realm of death, and all people inhabit this domain who haven’t entered the realm of light in Jesus. Life in Him means entering the light and so entering the realm defined and governed by love (cf. 1 John 3:9-14, 4:7-8). And so those who claim to “walk in the light” (cf. 1:5-7) while hating their brother actually continue in darkness, whatever they believe about themselves. In fact, John implies that such persons are self-deceived: The darkness leaves them “blind,” unable to perceive their surroundings or where they’re going. They themselves stumble (whether or not they’re Christians) and so cannot help but lead others to stumble with them (2:10-11; cf. Matthew 15:1-14, 23:15-28).
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 16:09:15 GMT -5
Excursus: Testifying to the Light John was concerned that his children in the faith “walk in the light” as God is light as has manifested Himself as light in the Messiah, the incarnate Son. In this way, they show themselves to be “sons of light” in truth – children of God and brethren of Jesus who bear witness to the true light in a world still submerged in darkness (cf. John 1:1-9, 12:35-36, 44-46 with 1 John 1:5-7). This points to the important implication that sharing in Jesus’ life is the necessary prerequisite to testifying to Him; a person can only testify to the light if he is himself a light-bearer. The light must shine in the darkness to be seen; it must be displayed and not merely described. But what does this mean in practical terms? What does it look like for Christians to display the light of God in Jesus Christ to a world that exists in darkness and doesn’t comprehend the light? In Paul’s manner of expression, it means bearing Christ’s fragrance so that people come to see Him in His disciples who comprise His Body. Thus there are two dimensions to this witness:
1) The first is personal. The one who would testify to Jesus must know Him – not merely doctrinally, but relationally in terms of a living union (cf. 1 John 1:5-7; 2:3-6; also Ephesians 4-5). Testifying to Jesus involves bearing His fragrance and this requires sharing in His life and mind by His Spirit. Short of this type of union, a person will always bear his own fragrance, even when Jesus is the subject of his testimony.
2) The second is corporate. Christians, as a community, play a crucial role in Christ’s witness to the world. The most obvious reason is that the Church is His Body; it is the living organism in which Jesus has His fullness (Ephesians 1:18-23). His intent wasn’t to save a multitude of individuals, but to create a new community – a new human race – in Himself as the Last Adam (1 Corinthians 12:12-14; Ephesians 2:11-22; 1 Peter 2:4-10). New creation is a corporate and cosmic enterprise and this implies that authentic witness to Jesus and His accomplishment – authentic witness to His gospel – involves His Church manifesting the truth of His new-creational Body in its life and practice in the sight of the world; hence Jesus’ “new commandment” (John 13:34-35, 15:1-21; 1 John 2:7-11). Christians must bear Jesus’ fragrance if they are to testify truthfully to Him. They bear this fragrance by openly manifesting His life and this involves their words as well as their deeds. The darkness must observe the light, but this light must then be interpreted for those who inhabit the darkness. People must see the true Jesus in His saints, but the saints must also explain Jesus in truth so as to address the natural (false) thinking and notions of those who observe and hear them. This involves meeting unbelievers where they are – “becoming all things to all people.” In order to fulfill their calling to be His witnesses, Christians must know their hearers as well as their Lord. So Paul’s witness to Jesus on Mars Hill in Athens had a very different orientation from his synagogue witness (cf. Acts 13:14-41, 17:16-31). Of course, interacting with people at the point of their understanding and perspective doesn’t insure their faith in Jesus. But failing to do so will, at best, yield only false faith as the hearer is left to process and respond to what he thinks he’s hearing. Yes, “faith comes by hearing,” but “hearing” implies communication and understanding and this requires that witness and hearer have a meeting of the minds (cf. Luke 24:13-27; Acts 8:26-39, 17:16-17).
Keeping with John’s imagery, the children of light must introduce the true light into the darkness if the darkness is to be dispelled. And this introduction requires accurate, clear, and interpreted witness to Jesus the Messiah as He actually is – as the Scriptures reveal Him. This latter point is especially important precisely because human beings process ideas and information through their own minds. Their perspectives, thoughts, convictions and experiences are the grid through which they discern reality and truth; from their vantage point, things are what they believe them to be. What this means for the present topic is that every person forms his own conception of Jesus, His life and work and its significance. The effect of this is that every person has his own “Jesus” – one who is an extrapolation of his own mind; a “Jesus” who, in many cases, is a reflection of the person himself. Three implications follow from this:
1) The first is that no one can discern the true Jesus from someone else’s ideas and convictions. All that one person can do is present his own “Jesus” to others and seek to persuade them that his version is the correct one.
2) The second implication follows from the first, which is that there must be an extra-human source of truth concerning Jesus if there is to be a true knowledge of Him. This witness is the Scriptures: The Old Testament scriptures reveal Him through their depiction of a coming Messiah and the work He’d accomplish on God’s behalf; the New Testament scriptures show that the man Jesus of Nazareth is that Messiah, evident in the fact that He fulfilled all that Israel’s Scriptures revealed and promised.
3) The Scriptures are the foundational witness to the true Jesus, but they, too, are subject to human limitations; like all things, the Scriptures are processed through human minds. The result is that each person derives his own “truth” from the Scriptures, even as a group of people will have their individual “take” on a traffic accident they all witnessed together. This inherent human subjectivity underlies the postmodern view of knowledge and the possibility of objective truth claims. With nothing further added to the equation, postmodernism’s skepticism is justified; even if the Scriptures contain objective truth, that truth is distorted by the reader’s mind. But there is another dimension to the Scripture’s testimony, and that is the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is the “Spirit of truth” and He acts to reveal and illumine the truth of the Scriptures by renewing a person’s mind. The Scriptures bear witness to Jesus only as they are rightly understood, and this involves both the reader’s approach and the Spirit’s attendance. The one who would know the “true light” that is Jesus the Messiah must learn to listen to the Scriptures, and this “listening” results from knowing the Scriptures as one knows another person – who that person is, how he thinks and how he communicates his mind, heart, interests and concerns. “Knowing” the Scriptures begins with interacting with them as they actually are, and fundamental to this is recognizing that the Spirit behind them has as His goal revealing God’s purposes and work in Jesus. The Spirit of God who discloses truth and illumines human beings to it is now, in the fullness of the times, the Spirit of Jesus; He always testifies to Jesus, but always in accordance with the witness He has provided in the scriptural record. This means that any authentic leading of the Spirit has Jesus at its heart, but Jesus as the Scriptures reveal Him, not as a person might believe Him to be (cf. John 5:39-40, 14:16-20, 15:25-26, 16:13-15).
These considerations are fundamental to the Christian task of witness, but many Christians have never given much thought to them. We start from the presumption that our perception of Jesus and His gospel is true; everything we believe is true or we wouldn’t believe it. No one, Christian or otherwise, embraces and promotes as true what he knows to be false (except where there are ulterior motives), and for this reason Christians often don’t critically examine their doctrinal convictions. They accept that their beliefs are true and so allow them to be the lens through which they read and interpret Scripture. Rather than hearing the Scripture speak, they speak over the top of it. It’s very easy to confuse the Scripture’s voice and message with our own and the result is that scriptural authority is replaced with the authority of our ideas and convictions. This dynamic plagues all people, for every human being lives in his own mind. Everyone faces the challenge of subjectivity and bias, so that testifying to the “true light” is problematic for both the witness and the hearer: The witness testifies to what exists in his mind and the hearer processes and responds to what he hears through the grid of his mind. Thus true witness can only occur where two things are present: A genuine meeting of the minds, but also a shared “mind” that is actually informed by the truth. Where either component is absent, the inevitable result is false witness – whether the falseness resides with the testifier, the hearer or both. This points again to the critical importance of the “Spirit of truth” and His illumining work. And because the Spirit illumines the human mind to the truth of Jesus as He’s revealed in the Scriptures, the Scripture itself is the focal point in the Christian’s witness to Jesus; it contains the truth which must inform and produce the “meeting of the minds” between the testifier and the observer/hearer. The Scripture brings their minds together, but as it testifies of God’s Messiah. Though many Christians haven’t thought this deeply about the issues surrounding their witness, all recognize that Scripture must play a central role. This is evident in the various approaches to evangelism, which all emphasize the use of scriptural passages, even if the approach is mechanical and formulaic (as with the “Four Spiritual Laws,” “Romans Road,” “Evangelism Explosion,” etc.). Christians understand that they must use the Scripture to defend their claims; what they often don’t consider is that the Scripture may not actually support those claims, or at least it may not construct its argument and relate its ideas in the way they do. A person may cite Romans 3:23 and 6:23 in his evangelistic witness, but that doesn’t mean his point is the point Paul was making in those passages. The scriptural witness to Jesus and His gospel is organic and comprehensive and can’t be reduced to or even summarized by a handful of verses. In fact, such reductionism inevitably leads to skewed or even false witness. The most obvious example is the way Christians tend to evangelize their Jewish acquaintances. All major evangelism approaches emphasize the New Testament, which Jews don’t accept as Scripture. Recognizing this, Christians often resort to cherry-picking various Old Testament passages (Isaiah 53, Psalm 22, etc.) in an effort to show that Jesus is the Messiah promised in the Old Testament. But Jews don’t interact with the Scripture in the proof-text manner familiar to many Christians and so are unmoved by that sort of “witness.” A few verses won’t convince a Jew that Jesus is the Messiah; they need to see that He fulfilled the entire scriptural revelation of Messiah. And it’s precisely at this point that observant, scriptural Jews find Jesus coming short. There are two reasons for this: One is the way in which the Jews expected (and still expect) the messianic event and outcome to transpire. The other is the way Christians represent Jesus and His mission.
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 16:14:30 GMT -5
Christian witness exists in the context of “dawning light” (1 John 2:8) – light that is progressively dispelling the darkness unto the noonday brightness of Jesus’ great appearing and the fullness of His kingdom in the new heavens and earth. In the present age, Christians are the light in the darkness and this light manifests itself as a new way of being human, not simply a new message (2 Corinthians 4). This is because Jesus is the true light and His people radiate His light as sharers in His life by His Spirit. In a very real way, Christians are Christ in the world; they bear His fragrance and their lives make Him known in a world alienated from Him. In one sense, then, witness to Christ is the most natural thing for Christians – it accords with their new life and nature as sharing in Christ’s life. Their witness is nothing more and nothing less than their authentic day-to-day existence as those who’ve been resurrected in the Messiah and whose lives are hidden with Him in God. Christians are light in the Lord, but the light exists in the darkness and this makes witness to Christ a foreign thing: It is foreign to those who are darkness, but it is also alien to the darkness that yet remains in the regenerate mind. And so true Christian witness is the result of Christiformity – of “learning Christ.” And this is a work in which the believer has full responsibility in the ongoing obligation to “put on Christ” and “walk in the Spirit” according to the reality and power of new creation (Galatians 5; Ephesians 4-6). Christ’s people must “learn” Him, and thus the central place of the Scriptures in the Christian life. The Spirit imparts Him to His people by renewing their minds and forming His mind in them (Romans 12:1-2; 1 Corinthians 2:12-16; Ephesians 4:20-24), and this renewal occurs as the Spirit reveals Him (His person, work, purpose) through the Scriptures (cf. Luke 24:25-27, 44; John 5:39 with 15:26, 16:13-15). The Spirit illumines the truth of the Scriptures, thereby revealing the Son and enabling people to know Him in truth. But this presses the question of how one knows that his insight is coming from the Spirit. How can a person be confident that his understanding of the Scriptures and the Messiah they reveal is true according to the leading of the Spirit? After all, doesn’t every Christian believe this about himself, even while recognizing that others have a different understanding and approach to the Scriptures? Answering this question must begin with the nature and function of the Scriptures and the relationship of the Spirit to them. The Scriptures are not a catalog of principles and truths intended to function as a manual for successful living. Neither do they embody a theological treatise or present a systematic theology. The Scriptures tell the story of God’s purposes for the world, accomplished through His own interaction in the world through the processes of human history. They record history as it is the “salvation history” – the history of God’s work of salvation (deliverance and renewal) – not of human beings only, but the whole creation. This salvation has Jesus, the Messiah, at its center, and this is the sense in which all of the Scriptures testify of Him. The Old Testament scriptures recount the salvation history as it predicted and prepared for God’s saving work in His Messiah, while the New Testament scriptures reveal Jesus of Nazareth to be that Messiah by virtue of Him fulfilling all that the Old Testament disclosed and promised. Put most simply, the Old Testament constructs the case for God’s kingdom rule over His creation, and the New Testament proclaims that that kingdom has been inaugurated in Jesus the Messiah. Thus the gospel writers present Jesus as the son of Abraham and David, the messianic “seed” whose presence in Israel heralded the “good news” – the gospel – that the time had come for Israel’s God to fulfill His word and establish His kingdom as promised in the Scriptures (cf. Matthew 1:1, 18-23 and Luke 1:26-33, 57-79, 2:1-32 with Mark 1:1-15).
This testimony to Jesus the Messiah is the overarching message of the Scriptures, and it is this message that the Holy Spirit illumines in human minds as the Spirit of Jesus, the Spirit of truth. This, then, provides general instruction for how a person can know that his understanding of the Scriptures corresponds to the truth as the Spirit conveys it:
1) The first evidence of a true knowledge of the Scriptures is that the Scriptures are understood as thoroughly Christ-centered; the person recognizes, not just the fact that all of the Scripture (Old Testament) testifies of Him, but how that’s the case. The Old Testament’s witness to Christ doesn’t take the form of a collection of messianic predictions and proof-texts, but organically and comprehensively. Messianic revelation is woven into the fabric of the Old Testament scriptures such that God’s revelation of Christ is incarnate in the process of history that the Old Testament records. The Christian, then, can have confidence in his understanding of any particular passage or scriptural topic when he sees how it has Christ at its center, and he’s able to demonstrate that through the entire Scripture engaged as an organic whole, not in a collage of verses and proof-texts.
2) A second evidence is that the Christian approaches the Scripture in its own right, according to its language, genres, concerns, manner of speech, presentation, etc., rather than through a set of premises and presuppositions. One must hear the Scripture’s own voice, not the voice of a system, tradition or confession, much less the voice in one’s own head. This means that the Christian must set aside all presumptions and presuppositions and come to the Scriptures with open ears and an open mind.
3) Thirdly, the Christian should find that his interpretation and understanding coincide with that of Jesus and His apostolic witnesses. Specifically, he must read the Old Testament scriptures the way they did as recorded in the New Testament writings. For the Old Testament is the “Scriptures” which Jesus and His witnesses used to demonstrate that He is the Messiah – the One promised “in all the Scriptures.” The New Testament writers are the key to Old Testament interpretation, and a true understanding of the Scriptures – of both testaments – will accord with their understanding. This is where the “literalism” of certain interpretive traditions becomes problematic, for the New Testament writers don’t use the Old Testament scriptures in this way. The Hebrews writer drew upon Psalm 2 – an enthronement psalm – to prove his argument about Jesus’ priesthood (5:1-5), and Paul supported his contention regarding God’s purpose for the Gentiles by citing a passage from the prophet Hosea – a passage that has nothing to do with Gentiles (Romans 10:22-26). So Matthew argued that a statement concerning Israel’s history was a prophecy fulfilled in Jesus and His personal circumstance as a young child (Matthew 2:13-15). Time and again the New Testament writers (and Jesus Himself) interpret and employ Israel’s Scriptures (the Old Testament) in a way that transcends their immediate contextual meaning. This apparent violation of the principle of “literal” interpretation has led some to argue that the Spirit’s inspiration afforded the apostolic writers unique insight that isn’t available to others. Under the Spirit’s leading, they could find “non-literal” meanings in the text, but their approach is illegitimate for everyone else. Such foolishness hardly needs further comment.
Again, Christians’ failure to rightly interact with the Scriptures is a significant reason that knowledgeable, scripturally-minded Jews reject the claim that Jesus is the Messiah. All too often, the “Jesus” they hear Christians describe and promote doesn’t correspond to the Messiah they find in Israel’s Scriptures. Jews raise many objections to Jesus as the Messiah, but the following are some common ones that draw directly on the Scriptures and their revelation of Messiah.
1) The first is that the Scripture describes the Messiah as a man – the son of Abraham and David, and not as the incarnate second person of the Trinity. Fully answering this argument goes beyond this excursus, but the answer lies, not in trinitarian doctrine, but Jesus’ fulfillment of the Scriptures, including God’s promise to return to Zion and again take His place in His sanctuary. This is how the gospels present Jesus’ deity.
2) Another objection is the Christian doctrine of Jesus’ “second-coming.” Jews find in the Scriptures a single messianic event inaugurating the promised kingdom and the messianic age. Dispensationalism has encouraged this objection by its central doctrine of a delayed kingdom (“millennial kingdom”) to be established at the end of the present age. In this view, Jesus came first as a suffering “lamb,” whereas His messianic reign as the son of David and “lion of Judah” will commence with His second coming.
3) Related to the previous concern, Jews who believe in bodily resurrection traditionally associate that phenomenon with Messiah’s coming and the messianic age. As they read the Scriptures, resurrection marks the end of the present age and initiates the Olam Ha-Ba – the age to come (Daniel 12:1-2). Therefore, Jews regard the claim of resurrection occurring in the first century (in the middle of the age), and then involving only the Messiah and not all of God’s “holy ones,” as foreign to the teaching of the Scriptures.
4) Another very important objection concerns the nature and outcome of Jesus’ work and accomplishment. Jews understand the Messiah to be a political figure – the King of the Jews – and not merely the architect and overseer of a personal, heavenly “salvation.” They see Messiah’s work as pertaining to this physical world and not a spiritual deliverance that enables people to escape this world to eternally inhabit a non-physical “heaven.” For many centuries, the Christian community has widely promoted a disembodied eternity in heaven as the goal of human existence and attached Jesus to this vision. But this is foreign to the scriptural vision of the messianic work and God’s goal in it, so that it’s not at all surprising that Jews commonly regard Christianity as contrary to Judaism and the New Testament as incompatible with the Jewish Scriptures. Jews who believe in a literal human messiah (many Jews don’t) perceive the messianic mission as Israel’s prophets described it: Messiah is coming to conquer the world powers that have opposed Israel’s God and oppressed His covenant people. In that way Messiah would restore the children of Israel and regather them to Zion (the land of Israel). So also, Yahweh would forgive the nation’s covenant violation that had brought judgment and exile and renew the covenant relationship. This forgiveness and renewal would see Messiah restore the sanctuary in view of Yahweh’s return to again dwell in the midst of His people. Put simply, the messianic work was to usher in the kingdom of God – a kingdom filling the earth and bringing all the nations under its power and rule.
- One other objection – and perhaps the most challenging – concerns Israel’s covenant with God and the role of Torah. The heart of this objection is the Jewish conviction that Torah is eternal and unchangeable, so that the Sinai covenant (the Law of Moses) cannot be altered or replaced by a “new” covenant. For centuries, Christianity has muddied the water with its view of “law” and “grace” in relation to salvation, and particularly the idea that the Sinai covenant is a “law covenant” whereas the new covenant is a “grace covenant.” The premise is that God requires absolute perfection of human beings, and this standard determines a person’s final destiny in either heaven or hell. People must be “righteous” (i.e., perfectly compliant with God’s law) to go to heaven, and either they meet this obligation themselves or someone else does it for them. “Law,” then, speaks to the demand of perfect righteousness, “grace” to that demand being met on one’s behalf. And if the Sinai covenant (Law of Moses) is a “law” covenant in this sense, it follows that it obligated the Jews to “earn” their own salvation, and so rendered them “legalists.” This notion underlies the view that Paul’s arguments concerning “law” and “grace” were a polemic against legalism. So the emphasis on circumcision and Torah by some early Jewish believers is seen as proof that Israel’s “law” promoted “works righteousness” as the means of personal salvation. In reality, these Jewish Christians were grappling with the transformation of the covenant community in Jesus (ref. Acts 15:1-22; Ephesians 2:11-22; note also Galatians 2:1-21, where Paul’s first mention of “justification by faith” in any of his letters concerns Jew-Gentile table fellowship – i.e., the matter of the new nature of God’s covenant family and how membership in that family is defined.) Jews differ in their understanding of “salvation” and the process of it. Many Jews reject the idea of an afterlife, while others believe in an immortal soul. The latter group hold various views about the soul and its relation to the body and what happens to it at the time of death. But Jews are united in the belief that Torah is eternal, and so reject the notion that the Law of Moses has been replaced with a different covenant based on “grace” rather than “law.” Indeed, Jews see God’s grace as a central principle of Torah (“law”) and its demand of obedience and righteousness. Torah is heaven come to earth; it doesn’t prescribe moral perfection, but conformity to God Himself. It prescribes authentic human existence – a life defined by love for God and conformity to His truth and ways. And where one falls short, God’s Torah provides mercy and forgiveness. To Christians unfamiliar with the Old Testament and its storyline and vision, the Jewish messianic hope appears foreign, especially set alongside the common understanding of Jesus and His “gospel” of personal salvation culminating with “eternal life” in heaven. And yet, much contemporary Christian doctrine (particularly within American Dispensationalism) closely corresponds with Jewish understanding and expectation. Jews and Christians disagree concerning Jesus as the Messiah, and Jews reject the doctrines of incarnation and parousia, which are hugely important in Christian theology. Even so, many Christians read the Hebrew scriptures in much the same way as Jews do, and so have a similar vision of the future of the world and the Jewish people. Ironically, this way of interpreting the Old Testament (i.e., apart from the New Testament) is a primary reason Jews reject Jesus as their Messiah. This approach has Jews looking for a future Messiah and messianic kingdom; it has their Christian counterparts insisting that this future awaits them, but at a “second coming,” which Jews don’t accept.
Jews measure any potential “messiah” against their Scripture, so that they need to see how Jesus “fits the bill.” Paul’s own experience makes the case. He was a devout and zealous Jew, thoroughly schooled in Israel’s Scriptures. Like many in his generation, he was eagerly awaiting the Messiah, Israel’s restoration and the coming of Yahweh’s kingdom. Paul had an expectation of what that would entail, and the supposed “messiah” Jesus didn’t match his (or his nation’s) expectation. And Jesus’ crucifixion settled the issue beyond question; whatever room there was for disagreement among the rabbis, one thing was absolutely clear: the Messiah promised in the Scriptures could never die at the hands of Rome; Messiah’s work was to conquer Israel’s enemies and take his throne as Israel’s triumphal king, not perish on a Roman cross. For all his knowledge, scriptural insight and devotion, Paul was “blind,” though fully convinced that his sight was clear. It wasn’t until he was confronted by the glorified Christ that the scales fell from his eyes, allowing him to see the truth that Jesus is indeed the long-awaited Messiah (Acts 9:1-22). Most importantly, Paul realized that Jesus is the Messiah, not in contrast to the Scriptures, but precisely in accordance with them. Everything the Scriptures revealed about the messianic person and work had been fulfilled in Jesus, but not as expected. The Scriptures weren’t incorrect or misleading, and Jesus hadn’t deviated from them in accomplishing His mission; the problem was Israel’s misunderstanding and misdirected expectation (John 5:39-47). The Jews derived their messianic doctrine from the Scriptures, and they weren’t wrong in expecting a son of David to arise and defeat their enemies and remove their yoke. Neither were they wrong to believe that Messiah’s triumph would see Israel forgiven and regathered, the covenant renewed, the sanctuary restored, and Yahweh returned to rule over His people through His messianic king. All of this was basic to the prophets’ promises, and the Jews’ faith and faithfulness directed them to look and long for it. But they, as Paul himself, needed to rethink God’s promises and their fulfillment in the light of Jesus and what had transpired with Him. Hence Paul’s approach in witnessing to his countrymen (Acts 13:14-41, 17:1-3; cf. 6:9-7:53). Jesus fought and won the great battle against the enemies of Yahweh’s people and kingdom – not with military might, but the power of self-giving love; He conquered the ultimate enemies of sin and death by allowing them to do their worst against Him. Thus He bled them of their power, leaving them defeated and emasculated (Colossians 2:15; Hebrews 2:14-15). By this triumph, Jesus liberated the captives (cf. Isaiah 61:1-4 with Luke 4:14-21; also Zechariah 9:9-12), but He also ended Israel’s exile by addressing the violation and unfaithfulness that brought it about in the first place; He restored Abraham’s children to their God by His own faithfulness as Abraham’s promised covenant son (Galatians 3). Jesus embodied Israel for the sake of Israel, in order to reconstitute Israel in Himself and so enable Israel to fulfill its calling to the world. He reconciled Father and son, bringing Israel back to Zion (God’s dwelling place) as the embodiment of faithful Israel (Isaiah 49:1-13; Matthew 3:13-4:11), but also returning Yahweh to His sanctuary as the embodiment of Israel’s God (cf. Isaiah 40:1-11 with Luke 1:57-79, 3:1-17; John 1:14-18). So He has inaugurated Yahweh’s kingdom and taken the throne of David as King over all the earth (cf. Luke 1:26-33 with Matthew 28:18; Acts 2:22-36; Ephesians 1:18-23; etc.). Jesus has fulfilled the messianic mission, but according to God’s design of already-but-not-yet. This is the key to Christian witness – to Gentile as well as Jew. This is what it means for the children of light to testify to the light as it is dispelling the darkness as dawn hastens to noonday
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 16:17:29 GMT -5
Manifesting the light of Jesus to Jews involves showing that He is the Messiah revealed and promised in Israel’s Scriptures. God determined to accomplish His purposes for the world through a particular man and his descendents, namely Abraham and the people of Israel. That design focused ultimately on a specific son of Abraham – God’s messianic Servant, Deliverer and King in whom Israel would become Israel indeed and fulfill its election on behalf of the world. This was the uniform message of Israel’s Scriptures, and the Israelite people were well aware of their unique status, privilege and calling. They knew, according to the Scriptures, who and what Messiah would be, and they weren’t about to embrace any man as Messiah who didn’t satisfy the messianic criteria in his person, mission and work. This is why Paul, Peter, Stephen, etc., rehearsed the scriptural storyline – with Israel at its center – when they testified to their Hebrew countrymen (ref. Acts 2:14-36, 3:12-26, 6:9-7:53, 13:14-41, 17:1-3, 10-11, 18:1-5, etc.). For Jewish persons, faith in Jesus as the Messiah depended upon them coming to see that He fulfilled Israel’s Scriptures in His life and work. But this way of “testifying to the light” would prove fruitless with Gentiles. It wasn’t simply that they had no knowledge of the Jewish Scripture and its Israelite storyline; they had no knowledge of Israel’s God. And, whatever they might have heard about Him, they formed a concept of Him through the lens of their own pagan worldview and religious understanding and practice. As far as Gentiles were concerned, Israel’s God was just like all the other gods. As it is to this day, every people group in the ancient world had its own deities, and the first-century Gentiles saw that it was no different with the Jews. They were a peculiar people with strange practices who largely kept to themselves, but they were just like everyone else in worshipping a “god” uniquely committed to them (cf. Psalm 79:1-10; 2 Chronicles 32:1-17; Isaiah 10:5-11; Jeremiah 2:1-13; etc.). The first-century Jews and Gentiles had a different conception of the Hebrew deity, and so also heard the “good news” of Jesus through different sets of ears. This truth was fundamental to Paul’s commitment to “becoming all things to all men” (1 Corinthians 9:19-22). His goal was that people would come to know Jesus the Messiah in truth, and this obligated him to meet each person at the point of his own perspective and understanding. He approached his Jewish countrymen from the vantage point of their self-understanding derived from their Scriptures and history as God’s covenant people, an approach that would have left Gentiles scratching their heads. In order to convey the truth of the Jewish Messiah and His gospel to non-Jews, Paul had to explain his God and His purposes in His Son in terms of pagan spiritual notions and practices; he had to show Gentiles that Israel’s God is the God of all men and all creation, and what He’s accomplished through Israel’s Messiah pertains to the whole world (Acts 14:8-18, 17:16-31). Paul needed to meet his Gentile audience at the point of their perspective and understanding, and so it is for Christians today. Every culture has its own assumptions and norms, and religious ideas and convictions are always at the center, even in predominantly secular cultures; atheists and humanists are just as religious as Christians, Muslims, Hindus, etc. America is increasingly becoming a secular nation, but it still retains the vestiges of its Christian heritage. So, multitudes of Americans regard themselves as Christians, though they mean little more than that they are American and America is a “Christian” country (as Israelis are Jewish and Saudi Arabians are Muslim). This way of thinking has allowed the “Americanization” of the Christian Church, such that Christian faith and faithfulness are often associated with certain cultural values, “liberal” as well as “conservative” (home-schooling, social justice, patriotism, political action, etc.). 40 So America’s unique history and form as a “melting pot” has nurtured certain perspectives and orientations. Americans are known for their independence and self-sufficiency, and this reflects the fact that the country was settled by religious separatists, social visionaries, entrepreneurs, pioneers and adventurers who were determined to make their own way in a new land. America’s heritage is “rugged individualism,” and this fierce, independent spirit is embedded in the nation’s founding documents, its approach to government and even its view of religion. The first arrivals were Puritan “separatists” who risked everything and sailed to an unknown land because of their unwillingness to comply with the prevailing religious order in England. Four centuries later, Americans are even more independent in their religious orientation. The Puritan pilgrims resisted the English Church, but they formed their own “compact” which bound them together in a shared faith. Today, Christianity in America has become radically individualized, evident in the countless denominations and splinter groups that take the label “Christian.” Even the gospel itself has been redefined as a formula for personal “salvation.” And this religious transformation reflects changes in the larger culture; American individualism has evolved into narcissism – radical self-preoccupation that now drives the culture and its concerns and orientation. This is the “sea” in which America’s churches “swim,” and they’ve found themselves getting wet. Some have done so enthusiastically, insisting that this is how the Church remains “relevant” and reaches the culture; others have succumbed in order to survive. Still others have unwittingly and gradually accommodated cultural patterns, like the swimmer whose wetsuit develops tiny tears until it no longer provides a barrier. This is the darkness which the sons of light must confront. American Christians are obligated to bring the light of Christ into the darkness of America’s religious culture as much as its secular and popular culture. This confrontation has many dimensions, but three are foundational. 1) The first is the radical individualism that pervades the culture and, increasingly, Christian doctrine and practice. As noted above, the gospel itself has been refashioned into a formula of individual salvation, which only reinforces the conviction that Christianity is a private, personal religion that pertains to one’s present status and future destiny. People are told that Jesus wants to give them “abundant life” and that He’d have died for them even if they were the only human being. Not only is Christianity about us, it’s about us as individuals. This is an attractive message in a narcissistic culture, and churches and “Christian” ministries have employed it to great success. 2) A second issue related to the previous one is the privatization of Christian faith. It is a short step from Christianity being a personal religion to it becoming a personalized one. And a personalized religion is a private one; it is unique to each individual. Just as each person has his own “life journey,” so it’s argued that every Christian has his own personal experience of God and unique approach to the Christian life. There is some truth in this, for being a Christian involves one’s personal share in Christ’s life. But individual participation doesn’t imply individualization – i.e., the privatization of the Christian faith and life that allows personal autonomy. This perspective underlies the notion that Christians must only affirm and encourage one another, even as they must not impose their views on non-Christians. From chaplain ministry to church pulpits, from worship services to small group meetings, the sovereignty of the individual reigns supreme. 41 3) A third issue isn’t specifically American, but it reflects the effect of American culture on other parts of the world. This is the corporatizing of the church. This is a twentiethcentury phenomenon traceable to several factors. The most obvious is the issue of taxation. Taxation implies a defined and mutually-recognized relationship between the taxing power and those subject to it. Governments determine who and how they tax, and so they set the prescription for exemption from taxation (where it exists). And because governments only recognize individuals and corporations, churches must configure themselves as corporations for governing powers to interact with them. If churches would be exempt from taxation, they must be meet a formal standard of incorporation. Churches have long been legally structured as corporations, but they’ve increasingly adopted this structure in their internal configuration and operation. Pastors are now CEOs rather than shepherds and churches have organizational charts that mirror secular corporations. So, the implementation of well-crafted, proven programs now constitutes “ministry,” strategic planning has replaced prayer, and faithfulness is evidenced by success metrics. Church consultants fill the land and have made fortunes selling their services to churches and denominations hoping to gain an advantage over the competition. Corporatization has made the Christian Church recognizable in the modern corporate world, but left it distinguished from its secular counterparts only in the product it’s marketing. Nevertheless, the Christian “product” must still compete with all the others promising personal gratification, enhancement and fulfillment. What does it mean, then, to testify to the light in these current conditions of darkness? As it is with testifying to Jewish individuals, this witness involves knowing and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom. This was the “good news” Jesus preached to his Hebrew countrymen, and Paul carried that same gospel into the Gentile world under Jesus’ commission (cf. Mark 1:14-15; Matthew 4:23, 9:35; Acts 9:1-16; Galatians 1:1-12). It’s precisely at this point that many Christians fail to testify to the true light, for they neither understand the true nature and present form of the kingdom of God, nor what it means to be citizens of it. First and foremost, this kingdom is the one promised in the Jews’ Scriptures, which implies that it’s impossible to “preach the gospel” apart from a sound knowledge of the Old Testament. When Jesus went about Israel proclaiming the “gospel of the kingdom,” His hearers knew exactly what He was talking about. They and their fathers had been waiting for six hundred years for their God to fulfill what He’d promised through His prophets, namely His return to Zion to accomplish His great work of judgment, deliverance, forgiveness, reconciliation and renewal. When Jesus announced that the “time is fulfilled” and “the kingdom of God is at hand,” they understood that their long-standing hope was now being realized. This was the “good news,” not of a personal salvation leading to eternity in heaven, but of the dawning messianic age; Yahweh was at last returning to Zion to establish His kingdom over all the earth. In the person of His messianic Servant, Yahweh was arising to defeat His enemies and resolve the covenant unfaithfulness and transgression that had provoked His departure from Israel and the nation’s exile six centuries earlier. Forgiveness, reconciliation and covenant renewal were at hand, and Israel’s restoration as the Abrahamic “seed” suggested that now, at long last, Israel might begin to fulfill its Abrahamic identity and calling on behalf of the nations. 42 The reconciliation of covenant Father and son would see the ingathering of the nations and “the knowledge of the Lord covering the earth as the waters cover the sea.” The time had come for the covenant Husband to remove Zion’s humiliation and barrenness, take her to Himself, and give her an abundance of children drawn from every tribe, tongue, nation and people (ref. Isaiah 11:1-12, 51:1-55:5; cf. also Hosea 1:1-3:5). This is the way the people of Israel understood Jesus’ proclamation of “good news,” and they interpreted His words and deeds through this lens. This is profoundly different from the perspective of so many Christians who read the gospel accounts as Jesus biding His time, teaching theological and moral truths and doing miracles, until He could finally get to the work of atonement. They miss the important truth that Jesus’ words and works were intentional and crucial witness to the kingdom He was inaugurating, not random teachings and miracles that filled the time until Calvary. In their own way, they were as necessary to the messianic mission as His atoning death, for they provided the interpretive grid for understanding what took place at Calvary. This testimony of word and work continued right up until the end, reaching its climax with the Passover observance in the Upper Room. Jesus heralded the messianic “kingdom of God” revealed and promised in Israel’s Scriptures, but His words and works, climaxing with His death and resurrection, demonstrated to Israel that the kingdom was coming in a manner and form they didn’t expect. In His Messiah, Yahweh was fulfilling all that He’d promised, but this fulfillment wasn’t going to look the way the Israelite people anticipated. Judgment, liberation, regathering and renewal wouldn’t see Rome’s overthrow and David’s kingdom restored to its prior form, but a new sort of kingdom ruled by David’s messianic son, not from Jerusalem, but from God’s right hand with a new form of power (Acts 2:22-36; Ephesians 1:18-21; cf. also Zechariah 6:12-13 with Romans 8:31-34). Yahweh’s kingdom had indeed arrived as His theocratic rule over the world through His royal Messiah, and Jesus’ witnesses announced this truth with the proclamation, “Jesus is Lord.” Caesar was the uncontested ruler of the vast Roman Empire, but there was now another king to whom even Caesar was accountable (cf. Matthew 28:18-20 with Acts 2:36, 10:1-37, 17:1-7). The prevailing powers felt threatened by the idea of a rival king and kingdom, but Jesus’ challenge came in a form they’d never known. For He didn’t enlarge His kingdom and reign by military might, but by the indomitable and transforming power of sacrificial love. King Jesus didn’t threaten Caesar’s throne, but Caesar’s heart and mind. He conquers men by transforming them. The kingdom Jesus established is an other-worldly kingdom defined by new creation – not a second ex nihilo creative act, but renewal that consists in the restoration of the creation’s relationship with its Creator through the true Image-Son (Colossians 1:19-20). So Jesus’ reign isn’t an improvement on “the procedure of the king” (1 Samuel 8:1-18), but kingship according to an entirely different principle (cf. Luke 22:24-27; John 13:1-17, 18:33-36). It is kingship consistent with a renewed creation under the dominion of man, the image-son, as God intended him – man as he is truly human in Jesus, the Last Adam. Thus testifying to the light is proclaiming that Jesus is Lord, and that the one God of all creation has, in Him, established His everlasting, all encompassing rule over the world He loves. The gospel proclaims theocracy, but not as men imagine it. God rules as supreme Father-Lord, forming a new human family in Himself by His Spirit – a new humanity in which He administers His lordship in self-giving love. It is by being such a community in the world that the true light confronts the darkness; in this way the children of light proclaim the “gospel of the kingdom” (John 13:31-35, 17:20-23).
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 16:19:14 GMT -5
D. Affirmations and Admonitions (2:12-29) One of the obvious features of this epistle is its lack of a clear and tidy internal structure. It wasn’t written as a well-ordered theological treatise, but a heart-felt challenge and plea by the writer to his children in the faith. Consistent with that, it has a back-and-forth quality in which John affirms what is true and then exhorts his readers to conform to that truth. Most simply, he reminds them of who Jesus is and who they are in Him and what it looks like for them to authentically live out their identity – to be who they are in every arena of their lives. This two-fold pattern is evident in the present context, which begins with John directly addressing three groups of individuals (2:12-14), and then exhorting them regarding their relationship to the present world (2:15-17) and the deceptive powers and principles that govern it (2:18-27).
1. John’s address has several notable features. Among those is that he addressed himself to fathers, children and youth (“young men”). But he also did so twice, virtually repeating himself (vv. 12-14). This raises the questions of who these individuals were, why John distinguished these three particular groups, and why he repeated himself in this way.
a. There are various views regarding the individuals John was addressing. The wider context points to these persons being part of the believing community (ref. 2:1), but interpreters differ as to whether John intended his titles (fathers, children, youths) literally or metaphorically. Was he distinguishing these persons based on their physical age/maturity or their spiritual maturity? John’s repeated use of the term “children” as a spiritual designation (2:1, 18, 28, 3:7, 18, 4:4, etc.) suggests the latter, and the way he described the three groups reinforces this interpretation. Like all Christian bodies, the community John was writing to included some who were mature in the faith, some new believers, and others in between these two extremes. Most likely, then, John intended these three designations to encompass the whole Christian community to whom he was writing. Augustine proposed a variant of this view. He agreed that John was referring to Christians, but held that each of the three designations applies to every believer, rather than to different Christians at different stages of spiritual maturity. In other words, every Christian is, in a certain sense, a father, a youth, and a child in the faith. Raymond Brown’s summary of Augustine’s view is helpful: “All Christians are ‘children’ because they are born anew and sinless through baptism; all Christians are ‘fathers’ because they believe in Christ who was from the beginning; and all Christians are ‘young’ because they are strong and brave in Christ over against the devil.” More recently, C. H. Dodd (and others) have argued in a similar vein that John’s three categories should be interpreted metaphorically and holistically rather than in a literal and delineated fashion. Dodd wrote, “All the privileges mentioned belong to all Christians, but emphasis and variety of expression are secured by distributing them into groups.”
Finally, many contemporary scholars hold John intended the term “children” to be the all-encompassing designation of the believing community (the one that applies equally to all Christians – ref. again 2:1, 18, 3:1-2, 7, 18, 4:4, 5:21), while “fathers” and “young men” are sub-groups of it. Two things are commonly cited in support of this view. The first has already been touched on, which is the fact that John used the term children as his conventional title for the community of Christians to whom he was writing. The second is the order in his address – children first, followed by fathers and then youths. The argument is that this order doesn’t make sense if John’s terminology had to do with maturity. In that case, the order should be fathers, youth, children. Or, since he addressed children first, the next group should be youths and then fathers, not the other way round. John’s order suggests, then, that he was addressing the whole community first and then, more narrowly, the more mature believers followed by the less mature ones. One notable challenge to this view is the fact that John changed his terminology in the second set of addresses (2:14). While he used the same term for fathers and youth, he changed the one for children. In verse 12, John’s noun is the same one he used throughout the epistle, whereas in verse 14 he switched to a noun that he used only one other time (ref. 2:18). Many scholars interpret this change as merely stylistic, but others draw a distinction between them. Again, it’s impossible to be certain, but the fact that John changed only this designation and not the other two seems to indicate that he had a reason for doing so. Because the two terms (teknia, paidia) are close in meaning, he may have wanted to highlight the designation, “children,” over against the other two (“fathers” and “youth”). This would make sense, given that it is the primary title he used for his fellow believers. But it’s also possible that John intended to highlight the nuances of the two terms as both applying to his spiritual “children.” For teknia emphasizes the idea of descent – children as offspring bearing the likeness of the parent, whereas paidia connotes innocence, dependence and vulnerability as characteristic of little children (cf. Matthew 18:1-6). Both of these connotations speak powerfully to what it means to be children of God (cf. 3:1-2, 4:4 with Romans 8:14-17; Galatians 3:1-4:7; Hebrews 2). In the end, whether John was indicating one, two, or three distinct groups, he clearly saw a close interrelationship among the three designations rather than an absolute distinction between them. At the same time, the way he described each of the three shows that he was distinguishing them in terms of recognized features/qualities of childhood, youth, and mature adulthood.
b. The second thing to note about this address is that it concerned John’s writing. He was addressing these “fathers,” “children” and “youth,” but in writing rather than in person. This form of address applied to all six statements, although with a significant distinction. In the first three, John used the present tense – I write or I am writing, whereas he used the aorist tense – I wrote – with the second three. This feature, too, has been the subject of long-standing debate and speculation.
The simplest interpretation is that John was distinguishing between what he had written previously and what he was writing at that time. Some, then, understand the previous writing as referring to some letter or correspondence prior to the present epistle (perhaps his gospel account). Others see the distinction falling within this same letter; that is, what John wrote refers to the content prior to 2:12, while his present writing refers to the things he was about to say. The arguments for the various views and their nuances are beyond the scope of this study, but Lenski’s position (upheld by many scholars) is likely correct. He argued that the change to the aorist tense from the present tense is stylistic and rhetorical. He regarded the aorists as epistolary, which involves treating a future (or present) action as if it had already occurred (the aorist tense expresses simple past action without elaboration as to time frame, result, effect, etc.). The purpose for this approach is that it allows the writer to assume the vantage point of his readers, thereby making himself present with them. And making himself present with them lends greater presence and power to his written instruction; it is as if he were there speaking with them (cf. 2:21, 26, 5:13; also Revelation 1:1-2). Lenski observes: “When John says, ‘I am writing,’ he thinks of himself as now writing his letter; when he says, ‘I did write,’ he thinks of the time [in the future] when his readers will peruse what he has written in this letter. If Lenski is correct, John’s shift in tense was for the sake of his readers, not to distinguish timeframes. He made this shift to punctuate his repetition and reinforce his meaning.
c. One further consideration is John’s affirmations. The first issue in that regard is the relationship between each group and what John affirmed of it. Each affirmation is preceded by the same Greek conjunction, which can introduce either a causal clause or an object (declarative) clause. In the first use, it is typically rendered because; in the second one, it is rendered that or who. Virtually all English versions reflect the causal idea: “I write to you because…” This reading has John’s affirmations giving his reason for writing. But if he intended his affirmations to be object clauses, then they identify what he was writing to each group rather than the reason for writing. So the first address would be, I write to you, children, that your sins are forgiven for His name’s sake. In the end, the difference in the two readings is a matter of emphasis, not overall meaning: The causal option has John writing because of his conviction regarding these individuals; the object option has him writing to convey what he wanted them to understand about themselves. In both cases, John was expressing what he believed to be true about his readers; truths they needed to hold fast (ref. 2:15-28). The case of the fathers is the most straightforward because both of John’s statements are exactly the same; he was writing to them as those who’d “come to know Him who is from the beginning” (2:13, 14). Verse 1:1 suggests that this refers to Jesus, but the similar statement in 2:13 points to the Father. In the end, both views converge since the Father is known in and through the incarnate Son (John 1:18, 14:8-9). Thus John: These believers, though his children in the faith, were “fathers” – men of stature – as possessing true knowledge of God in Christ.
In the case of the youths, the two affirmations aren’t strictly identical, but are closely related. Both affirm triumph over the evil one, but the second statement elaborates on this by adding that these “youths” are strong and God’s word abides in them (2:14b). As sound knowledge fits well with the concept of fathers, so triumph through vigor and strength are characteristic of young men. Mature understanding and wisdom are the hallmark of aged ones, while physical strength and prowess are the property of youth. Here, this youthful vigor has seen victory over the “evil one” – John’s first use of this expression (cf. 3:12, 5:18-19). Though some argue John was personifying evil as a principle, his later statements suggest that he was referring to the devil (ref. 3:8-10). Their strength has enabled these “young men” to stand in triumph over the devil, and John importantly associates this strength with their abiding in God’s word. They enjoy victory, but as holding fast to the word of Christ’s triumph, not through their own strength or power (cf. 5:4; also Revelation 12:1-11; John 12:23-32; Hebrews 2:14-15). Lastly, John ascribed two different things to the children. The first was the forgiveness of their sin, the second was their knowledge of the Father (2:12, 13b). - The first affirmation is eminently suited to the child image and its connotation of immaturity, for forgiveness of sin is the first and foundational thing that a new Christian understands about himself. His knowledge of Jesus is immature and undeveloped, but he knows that Jesus has forgiven him because of who He is and what He has done, and this knowledge is the bedrock of all future growth and understanding. - The “children” are those who’ve been forgiven; indeed, this forgiveness has made them children in the truest sense – children of God as members of His everlasting family centered in the Messiah. And it is in this way that they have come to know the Father (John 17:3); they know Him as beloved children sharing His life and likeness and dwelling with Him in His house. They know the Father as “sons” in the Son. However one concludes on the particulars discussed above, it remains that this three-fold address and its imagery bring together in concise and compelling fashion critical truths about the Christian community as a whole and individually. Every Christian is a child in that he is born of the Father through the Spirit as one forgiven and renewed (cf. Ephesians 1:3-7, 5:1; 1 Peter 1:3-5); he is the Father’s offspring as sharing in His life and nature through union with the incarnate Son (cf. John 14:16-20, 17:20-21; Colossians 3:1-4; 2 Peter 1:1-4). And as the Father’s children, Christians live lives of humble dependency – truly human lives as modeled by the true Image-Son (Philippians 2:1-8; Colossians 3:1-17; James 4:1-10; 1 Peter 5:6-7). Christians are children of the Father, and this implies that they know Him in truth. For this reason, they are also fathers capable of begetting their own children in the faith by imparting the knowledge they possess (cf. 2:1; 3 John 1-4 with 1 Corinthians 4:14-15; Galatians 4:19-20; 1 Thessalonians 2:1-12). So also they are young men, invigorated and empowered by the life of Christ in them – strong ones, free of fear, who, in the Victor, have overcome the evil one (4:1-4, 5:18-21).
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 16:21:43 GMT -5
2. John’s address might appear awkward and out of place, but it actually serves an important role in the larger context. For, by it, John provided his readers with a pointed reminder of who they were as Christians, and this perception of themselves – and their conformity to it – was vital to their ability to fulfill their calling in the world. They needed to understand and hold fast to the truth of what it is to be children of light if they were to stand firm in the present darkness. John’s address, then, laid the foundation for the series of exhortations and admonitions that follow (2:15-29). The first of those pertains to the Christian’s relationship with the world (2:15-17). The exhortation itself is straightforward, but John’s meaning is more challenging. The grammar alone demonstrates this, for it indicates that John was calling his readers to stop loving the world, rather than refrain from loving it. This is significant, given what John believed about his readers. He wrote to them as children of God, and yet recognized that they continued to wrestle with a relationship with the world that contradicted their identity – “whoever loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.” At face value, then, this passage seems problematic. How can it be said of Christians that the love of the Father isn’t in them (whether this speaks of their love for Him or His love for them)? And yet, this is exactly what John implied by charging his Christian readers with a love for the world that precludes this love of the Father. The problem isn’t what it seems, though, and is resolved by a closer look at John’s statements and argument.
a. John’s exhortation (2:15) implies two basic truths: his readers’ continued love for the world and the wrongfulness of it. Moreover, he spoke of this love in two respects – love for the world as such, and love for the things in the world. The natural tendency is to define the latter in terms of a catalog of entities, behaviors and pursuits that fit with one’s own personal notion of “worldliness,” with the result that John’s directive is understood as forbidding those “worldly” practices. The obvious problem, of course, is that Christians have different definitions of “worldliness,” and so their own individual interpretation of this verse. Perhaps because he recognized this tendency, John went on to define what he meant by “the things in the world.” He wasn’t talking about material things or even behaviors as such, but the most fundamental operations of the human mind. The “things” these Christians were to renounce are the “desires of the flesh and of the eyes” and the “boastful pride of life” (2:16). Together, these descriptors summarize the inner forces that drive human life in this world. The desire of the flesh is the most basic of those. This expression doesn’t refer to immoral “lusts,” or even to physical drives such as hunger and thirst. It points to the fundamental sensuality of human existence – that is, human life as informed by the physical senses and driven by the mind’s processing of their data. As physical creatures, human beings discover and interact with reality based on what they experience with their senses. In Paul’s manner of speaking, they fix their attention on what is seen – that is, characteristics of the material world they inhabit which are accessible to their sensory perception (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).
Everything a person “knows” and values results from his mind interacting with sensory data. In turn, his mind processes that data through the grid of its own perspectives and premises derived from personal experiences and other conscious and subconscious psychological factors. The result is that human perception, knowledge and valuation are personal and subjective; they exist in each person’s mind. John was using the term, flesh, to denote this dynamic of natural human existence, not as a metaphor for sin (cf. Matthew 16:17, 24:22; Luke 3:6; John 1:13, 3:6, 6:63; Romans 6:19, 7:5, 8:1-9; 1 Corinthians 1:26). And as the “flesh” is fundamentally sensual, so are its passions and desires. The senses provide the data that the mind processes, and the mind’s valuation drives a person’s affections and desires. So the fleshly (natural) mind nurtures fleshly desires – not necessarily immoral or evil ones, but desires consistent with the operations and orientation of the natural mind. Whether moral or immoral, pious or impious, judicious or foolish, the fruit of the fleshly mind exhibits the nature of the flesh (ref. John 3:6; Romans 8:5-8; cf. also 1 Corinthians 2-3). The desire of the eyes is closely tied to the “desire of the flesh,” for it speaks to the way the “flesh” exerts itself. As physical organs, eyes are apertures that allow light to enter the body, creating a signal that the brain processes. Eyes have no desires or passions, but John was using a familiar metaphor that reflects the fact that the eyes are servant-instruments of the mind, connecting it with the outside world. Thus the eyes’ fixation is the mind’s fixation; they serve its interests and agenda (cf. 2:11; John 9:39-41; 2 Corinthians 4:18; Peter 2:12-14; Hebrews 12:1-2). In this context, the eyes’ desire reflects the inherent passions of the flesh, so that John’s expression, “lust of the eyes,” shifts from the inward motions of the mind and heart to the way they interact with the world around them. John’s third descriptor is the pride of life. This phrase points to the human dynamic of correlating the features of one’s life experiences with one’s personal worth or significance. This “pride” is much more than “pride in possessions” (ESV); it is the natural, even unconscious, way people perceive themselves in terms of the tangible dimensions, features and qualities of their lives. It reflects the fact that human beings live in their own minds – what is true for a person is what he believes to be true, and his beliefs are the product of his mind processing the data it receives. So it is with a person’s beliefs about himself; he forms them based on his mind’s interaction with his experiences (his “life”) in this world. Simply put, people find their sense of identity and significance in how they perceive themselves in relation to the world around them. Thus the intrinsic human quest to find identity, purpose and meaning inevitably focuses on tangible metrics. This dynamic underlies the universal human problem of covetousness, which Jesus addressed when he decried the notion that the meaning and value of a person’s life consists in the things that mark his existence in this world – not merely his material possessions, but his accomplishments, credentials, recognition, social status, education, intellect, ethics, morals, etc. (Luke 12:15).
These three descriptors, treated in context, challenge Christians to rethink the concepts of the world and worldliness. Most often, “worldliness” is conceived in moral and religious terms, so that “loving the world” means pursuing and giving oneself to a course of life that is contrary to God’s righteous character and His prescribed standard for human beings. Thus one can either “love the world” and pursue its unholy pleasures, or “do the will of God” and renounce those pleasures and live a “godly” life (note v. 17). Ironically, though, this way of viewing John’s exhortation is itself worldly, because it reflects the natural thinking that defines this world and its “mind.” It is an expression of the very thing John was condemning (cf. Colossians 2:20-23; Romans 14;1 Timothy 4:1-5).
b. This illumines how it is that Christians can continue to love the world, and why this love argues against the “love of the Father.” This phrase can refer to the Father’s love for a person, His love produced in a person, or the person’s love for Him. These ideas imply each other, and so John may have been intentionally ambiguous. At the same time, he was absolutely clear that love for the world and the love of the Father are mutually exclusive. And not because God opposes “worldly” conduct, but because of the intrinsic antithesis between Him and the world in its present form – the antithesis between the Father’s person and design for His creation and its present existence under the curse. He is life, while it is defined by death; He is light, while it is defined by darkness. He created this world to reflect and express His nature and mind, but it functions in estrangement from Him according to a foreign principle that John identified with the term “world.” The “desires of the flesh and the eyes” and the “pride of life” speak to that principle in its human dimension. Thus John insisted that they have their source, not in the Father, but in the world that exists in antithesis to Him (2:16b).
c. And it is precisely this “world” – this antithetical creational reality – that Jesus came to expose, condemn and put to death in Himself. He came, not merely to address human sin, but the creational curse. His incarnational life and death had their goal in a new creation, not merely atonement for transgression (cf. Isaiah 11:1-13, 65:1-19; Zechariah 14:1-11; Revelation 21-22 with Colossians 1:19-20; Ephesians 1:7-10). He fulfilled His mission, so that the material creation now awaits the day when it will experience what humans enjoy in the inner person: life out of death (Romans 8:1-25). In John’s imagery, the light has penetrated the dark creation and is shining in it, so that the darkness – the present world order and its passions and desires – has begun to pass away (cf. 2:17a with 2:8). In His Son, who is the first-born of His new creation, the Father has resolved the antithesis of the world He loves. By the cross, He reconciled all things to Himself, putting to death the enmity centered in the human creature (cf. Ephesians 2:1-18 with Romans 5:10-11; 1 Corinthians 15:20-26; Colossians 1:19-22). The Father has condemned and overcome the “world” and its desires, and this is why love for the world argues against love for Him. Love has its premise in truth, and holding onto the creational order God has put to death denies the truth – the truth of His judgment and His renewing work. In this way the Christian denies the truth of himself (2 Corinthians 5:17), aligning himself with a world that continues to deny God’s will that all things should be summed up in His Son.
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Nov 19, 2023 16:24:43 GMT -5
3. After reaffirming for his children in the faith who they are in the Messiah, John proceeded to exhort them to authentically live out their new identity in the present age. His first exhortation was a call to reorder their minds according to the truth of the new creational pattern that Jesus inaugurated in Himself; they were to stop loving the world – i.e., the natural, fallen order of human existence Jesus condemned and put to death (2:15- 17). John’s second exhortation is closely related: They were to guard themselves against the influence of the world’s ruler (2:18-27). This exhortation takes the form of a warning, and John introduced it by stating the reason for it, namely the present reality of “antichrist” and the threat it posed to his readers (and so the wider Christian community).
a. He began by announcing to them the presence of the last hour, indicated by the presence of “antichrist” influences in the world (2:18). The phrase, “last hour,” is unique to this passage and occurs nowhere else in the New Testament, so that John’s meaning must be determined from the context and his overall perspective in his writings. Two views are most common and most plausible. - The first is that John was referring to the time immediately preceding Jesus’ appearing (parousia) at the end of the age (cf. 2:28 with Acts 1:9- 11; 1 Thessalonians 2:19, 3:13, 5:23; Titus 2:11-13; cf. also 1 Peter 1:20- 21). One obvious difficulty with this view is that it has John expecting the Lord’s immediate return in glory, which clearly didn’t happen. But other early Christians, including Paul, seemed to have shared this expectation (cf. 1 Corinthians 7:29-31; Hebrews 10:23-25, 36-48; James 5:8; 1 Peter 4:7), which suggests that Jesus left His followers with the hope that He would return soon (ref. Matthew 24:1-35; Revelation 22:20). - The second view holds that this expression is effectively synonymous with the parallel phrase, “last days,” which refers in the New Testament to the present age extending from Jesus’ inauguration of the new-creational kingdom until its consummation at His appearing at the end of the age (cf. Acts 2:17; 2 Timothy 3:1; Hebrews 1:1-2; James 5:3; 2 Peter 3:3-13; cf. also 1 Peter 1:20-21; Jude 3-21). Because John often used the noun “hour” to denote an indefinite period of time (ref. John 4:21-23, 5:25, 28, 7:30, 16:2-4, 25), his phrase could indeed correspond to the expression, “last days,” especially since he didn’t use this expression in his writings. Another important consideration is the fact that John omitted the definite article (“the”) in both occurrences of the phrase, which some insist proves that he wasn’t specifying any particular time or era (i.e., “a last hour”). This is certainly possible, but John’s overall statement seems to indicate otherwise; it shows that he was thinking of an expected “hour” that he recognized as having already arrived at the time of his writing. This suggests he had in mind a particular time, whether the extended “hour” that is the entire “last days” inter-advental era, or the time immediately preceding Jesus’ return. (The latter reflects the apostles’ and early Church’s hope of Jesus’ imminent return and the consummation of the inaugurated kingdom, a hope that John seems to have shared.)
b. The most important thing about John’s statement is that he regarded this “hour” as already present in his day, and the proof for him was the presence and influence of numerous “antichrist” figures. He didn’t explain his thinking, but the New Testament writings show that the apostles and early Christians believed that the days preceding Jesus’ return would see deceivers arise within the churches (ref. 1 Timothy 4:1-3; 2 Timothy 3:1-9; 1 Peter 3:1-4). Indeed, Jesus Himself implanted this belief in His disciples and they passed it along to those who came to faith through their witness (cf. Matthew 7:15-23, 24:1-27 with Acts 20:17-31; 2 Timothy 4:1-5; 2 Peter 2:1-3; Jude 17-19). Like the phrase, last hour, the term antichrist is unique to John’s writings (ref. 2:22, 4:3; 2 John 7). This is surprising to some, particularly because the concept of antichrist is very much in the forefront of contemporary Christian doctrine and concern. The widespread interest in this subject leaves the impression that it is a major scriptural topic, but it is not. Theological traditions have connected various figures mentioned in the Scriptures (ref. Daniel 7-11; 2 Thessalonians 2:3-4; Revelation 13:1-10; etc.) with an expected future antichrist, but only John uses the term, and then only four times in two epistles. And John’s treatment shows that he viewed the concept of antichrist as first denoting a principle rather than a specific person. Whereas present-day Christian theology focuses on the antichrist, John spoke of numerous antichrists, even in his own generation. He also indicated that a doctrine of antichrist was part of the early Church’s understanding: “You have heard that antichrist is coming…” His statement seems to suggest a particular individual, but the fact that he omitted the definite article leaves open the possibility that he didn’t have any one person in mind. The parallel statements in 4:2-3 certainly point in that direction; there John spoke of an antichrist “spirit” that was coming – a spirit that was already at work in the world, even as he penned his letter. This is not to say that the New Testament gives no indication of a specific, future antichrist figure. Paul’s “man of lawlessness” certainly seems to fit the bill (ref. again 2 Thessalonians 2:3-4). So also the Old Testament scriptures – especially the book of Daniel – create such an expectation with their emphasis on a future individual characterized by singular opposition to God and His worship (cf. 7:7-8, 24-25, 8:23-25, 9:26-27, 11:31-39). Scholars recognize that the Syrian king Antiochus Epiphanes was the referent of many of these contexts, and that Daniel 9 predicts the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. by the Roman general Titus. At the same time, many throughout Church history have believed that those historical fulfillments anticipate another greater, ultimate fulfillment involving a superlative Antichrist. Among other scriptural passages (including Jesus’ teaching in the Olivet Discourse), 2 Thessalonians 2:3-4 is commonly cited in support of this view. Contemporary American Christians tend to conceive this antichrist figure in terms of the dispensational “end-times” scheme popularized in books and movies, but many of the early Protestants saw the Antichrist in the Papacy.
This papal view continues in some Reformed circles, while other non-dispensational Christians believe a final antichrist figure will indeed arise prior to Jesus’ Parousia, but not as part of the dispensational “seven-year tribulation” scheme. Hoekema’s position is representative: “In the Olivet Discourse Jesus refers both to the impending destruction of Jerusalem and to the end of the age, the former being a type of the latter. We may therefore expect that there will be a third major fulfillment of the ‘abomination that makes desolate’… This final fulfillment will come at the end of the age, and will involve the antichrist…” Whatever one may believe about an “end times” Antichrist, John stressed the fact that the “antichrist” designation points to a person’s relation to “the Christ” – that is, Jesus the Messiah. In general terms, the Greek preposition anti indicates either opposition or substitution. These two ideas are closely related in that substitution is a form of opposition: A thing is effectively opposed when it is supplanted or replaced by something else. In John’s usage, the emphasis is on substitution by means of redefinition; “antichrist” designates those who redefine the Christ (Messiah). There are any number of ways a person can redefine the Messiah, but John focused on one that was prominent in his day, namely the denial that the flesh and blood man, Jesus of Nazareth, is the Christ (cf. 2:23, 4:3; 2 John 7). This focus suggests that John was specifically addressing the Gnostic influences that were already infiltrating the Christian community. Again, the absolute distinction between the material and immaterial realms is fundamental to all forms of Gnosticism. That which is material is imperfect and transient; perfection and eternality are properties of the immaterial. With respect to human beings, this principle teaches that the goal of human existence is the soul’s perfection, which begins with its liberation from the body at death. This Gnostic distinction between “flesh” and “spirit” discovered an apparent ally in the emerging Christian community and its doctrine. For, Christians, following their Lord’s lead (ref. Matthew 26:41; John 3:5, 6:63), also spoke of flesh and spirit and drew certain distinctions between them. Even more, Christian doctrine seemed to agree with the Gnostics that the flesh is the seat of uncleanness and imperfection, whereas the spirit – and life according to the spirit – is the way of perfection and eternal life (cf. Romans 8:1-13; 1 Corinthians 5:4-5; Galatians 3:3, 4:22-31, 5:16-17, 6:8; Philippians 3:1-11; 1 Peter 4:6; etc.). Thus Gnosticism found an easy path into the Christian community and it immediately began to color and reshape Christian doctrine in significant ways. With respect to the issue at hand, Gnostic doctrine precluded the possibility that the “Christ” could be characterized by “flesh.” The Gnostic conception of the material and immaterial rendered absurd the notion that a person who embodies human perfection can possess imperfect flesh. Thus the Christian Gnostics tended to teach either that the “Christ spirit” indwelt the physical man Jesus for a season (the Cerinthians), or that Jesus, who is the Christ, only appeared to possess a physical human body (the Docetists).
John was aware of the growing Gnostic influence in the Christian community and he confronted it as antichrist – a denial of the truth of Jesus the Messiah by redefining Him in Gnostic terms. He didn’t reserve this designation for a particular individual, but ultimately for anyone and everyone who redefined the Messiah in whatever way or to whatever extent: Whoever denies that the actual physical human being Jesus of Nazareth is the Christ is “antichrist.” This denial implicates Jesus’ earthly existence, but also His death and resurrection. So also it implicates the very definition of humanness and the goal of human existence. - For the Gnostics (and Gnostic Christians), there could be no death for the “Christ” – how can the immortal, eternal “Christ spirit” perish on a cross? So Cerinthus and his followers taught that the “Christ spirit” descended on the man Jesus at His baptism and then departed prior to His death. The Docetists went further, arguing that Jesus, being the Christ, did not have a physical body at all; He simply appeared to be a flesh and blood man. - The Christ could not be put to death, but neither could He experience bodily resurrection. Nor would He ever desire such a thing; the goal of human existence is the soul’s liberation from the body and the body’s destruction, not its resurrection. For Christian Gnostics who acknowledged Jesus’ death (the Docetists didn’t), Christ’s life beyond the grave wasn’t a matter of bodily resurrection, but of the undying spirit’s separation from the flesh. Calvary simply occasioned the liberation of the “Christ spirit.” - And as the Christ is the exemplar for His followers, Gnostic redefinition of Him extended to the matters of human identity and destiny. Contrary to the Scriptures, man is not, in his essence, body and spirit. Rather, man is spirit who, for a season, must endure the bondage and corruption of the flesh. He attains his human perfection by sharing in Jesus’ “life out of death,” but as He is glorified spirit, not the Last Adam. For the Gnostic Christians, the cross saw the liberation of Jesus’ spirit, not the resurrection of His body and spirit as the first-fruit of God’s new creation whose goal is the renewal of the entire material order (Luke 24:36-43; John 20:24ff). These considerations only scratch the surface of the impact of Gnostic influence in the early Church, but they’re adequate to show why John viewed it so severely. However insignificant a certain shading or redefining of the Messiah might appear, all alterations have profound effects. John recognized that any departure from the truth of the Messiah effectively replaces Him with a counterfeit; this principle of antichrist has been pervasive from the very beginning because it reflects and expresses the mind of the dark power that holds sway over the human world (1 John 5:19). This is the power that Jesus exposed, condemned and conquered, and which His disciples have also overcome in Him. Sharing in His death and resurrection life, they have triumphed over the satanic spirit behind the antichrist deception, and so they must also expose and oppose every manifestation of antichrist, whether in doctrines or persons (cf. 2:13-14 with 4:1-4).
|
|