Nothing that John has written thus far can be taken as an endorsement of sin. But it is possible that some might misunderstand his statements and thereby reach that conclusion. Has he not argued that all men sin? “Well,” they might argue, “if sin is inevitable, why struggle against it? You will sin, no matter what you do. So resign yourself to the facts.” Or again, has John not said that there is forgiveness for sin through what Jesus has done and, indeed, continues to do? “All right,” they might add, “why worry about committing sin? If God forgives it, the outcome is assured. As a matter of fact, why not sin more, for God can forgive more and get greater glory in such circumstances.”
John’s words do not say this, of course, nor do his principles lead in this direction. In fact, they lead to precisely the opposite conclusion. In order to show this, however, he now interrupts the form he had been following in stating and answering the false views of the Gnostics (there would have been an “if we walk” or “if we confess” clause following 1:10) and instead begins a new sentence in which the problem of sin in the Christian is dealt with directly. The sentence contains a call to holiness, which in turn is based upon two certainties. The first is the promise of God to forgive sin, already stated in chapter one. The second is the work of Christ, upon which he elaborates.
The thrust of John’s message is at once evident, both in the appeal itself and in the tone in which it is made: “My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not.” It is an endearing appeal and has the effect of reassuring his readers that, whatever may seem to be the implications of his earlier statements, his concern for them is precisely in this, that they might not sin. Nothing he has said should ever be construed as an endorsement of unrighteousness.
A question still remains, however. John obviously wants those to whom he is writing to keep free of sin, but how precisely do the truths about which he has been speaking lead to godliness? He has spoken of God’s faithfulness in forgiving sin. But how does the assurance of forgiveness actually lead to holiness? Is not the opposite the case? If we know that we are forgiven in advance, will we not feel free to sin? The objection sounds logical, but it is not. Actually, the knowledge of such a great love and of such undeserved forgiveness makes the Christian earnestly desirous not to sin against them.
An illustration is necessary to make this point clear. Shortly after the Second World War, Donald Grey Barnhouse, the founder of the Bible Study Hour, was counseling a certain young man. He was a professor in a major university and had a sad story to recount. He had been a second lieutenant in the American army and had been sent overseas to France where he had fallen in with bad companions. He was not a Christian at the time, and while stationed there he had lived a life of gross sin. Now, however, he had returned home, become a Christian, met a fine Christian girl and wished to marry her. But he had a problem. He remembered his past sin and feared that he might again fall into it. If so, would he wound the girl he loved? What should he do? In such circumstances he had been hesitating to speak of his love to her.
The pastor advised him to speak frankly with the young woman, telling her briefly of his past life. “She must sense that you love her and that something is holding you back,” he said. “So you must clear the air. If you are going to spend your lives together, there must be no barriers between you.” Still the young man hesitated.
At this point Barnhouse told him a story which is retold here in order to introduce the comment that was wrung from the young professor when he had finished.
Some time ago I dealt with a man whose story was not much different from your own. He too had lived a life of sin and had been converted under conditions similar to those existing in a rescue mission. He had then married a fine Christian woman to whom he had briefly told his sordid story. He said that after he had told his wife this she kissed him and replied, “John, I want you to understand something very plainly. I know my Bible well, and I know something of the workings of Satan. I know that you are a thoroughly converted man, John, but I also know that you have an old nature to which Satan will certainly appeal. He will do all that he can to put temptations in your way. The day may come—I pray that it never shall—when you shall succumb to temptation and fall into sin. Immediately the devil will tell you that you have ruined everything, that you might as well continue in sin, and that above all you should not tell me because it will hurt me. But, John, I want you to know that this is your home. This is where you belong. I want you to know that there is full pardon and forgiveness in advance for any evil that may come into your life.”
As he was telling this story the professor had lowered his head into his hands. But when Barnhouse reached the end, the young man lifted his head and said reverently, “My God, if anything could ever keep a man straight, that would be it.”1
1Donald Grey Barnhouse, God’s Methods for Holy Living (Philadelphia, PA: Eternity Book Service, 1951), 72-74.
