Hereby we have known love, because *he* has laid down his life for us; and *we* ought for the brethren to lay down [our] lives.
Between a murderer's hatred and a believer's love, John sets one measure: the death of Christ. It tells us what love is, then hands us the cost of it. Commentators press hard on one detail — John says "we ought," not "we do."
John does not argue for love or define it in the abstract. He points to one act and one Person. Some translations add the words "of God" to the first clause. One writer argues against the addition.
To add "of God" spoils the sentence. There is no ground for inserting any words. But only One showed such love, and He was man as surely as God. "By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us." If you want to know what love is, look here. This was love indeed.
The verse stands against what came just before it: a brother's hatred. One writer sets hatred and love side by side. Neither is a passing mood. Each comes from somewhere.
We have seen that hatred, which is murder, comes from the devil, who sinned from the beginning. Here we are taught that we know love by this: that He laid down His life for us. The contrast could not be more complete — hatred and love, each traced back to its source.
The verse puts our self-giving alongside His, but not on the same level. A note on the wording observes that the little word "for" in John 10, where Jesus lays down His life for the sheep, carries the sense of one standing in the place of another — while here it carries the sense of acting for someone's benefit.
The following "for," as Meyer says, indicates substitution, not only benefit, as in 1 John 3:16.
Another writer makes the same guard while refusing to soften what John actually asks of us:
We might soften what he says here by telling ourselves that he only means we should spend our lives serving other believers. But that is not what he says. He says plainly that we ought to die for them. Not as a substitute, of course, the way Christ died for our sins — but still to truly lose our lives in death.
John states a debt, not a record of what believers already do. One writer weighs that difference.
"And we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers." His was a depth beyond measure, and nothing can match it. Still, it becomes the model for those who are His, however far short of atonement... He does not say that "we do" — though some believers have died not only for Christ's sake but for their brothers. He is content to say "we ought." Our love, since it comes from God, is able to do it. And in fact, if our dying would be of real use to our brother, we ought to be willing.
Commentators differ here. Some, as above, hold the plain sense of dying. Others read it as the daily giving up of one's own life.
Yet His laying down His life for us is also an example for us... If this should end in death, so be it. But we ought to lay down our lives in service for the sake of God's people. That means living for them, not only dying for them if the occasion calls for it. Again, we are not giving our lives merely to a fine cause, however noble it may look. We give them to the glory of God, and for the blessing of the true children of God, not of the world.
Either way, the same power carries it:
With His perfect example before us, we should be ready to lay down our lives for our brothers, in the power of the new life that is marked by love. This does not have to mean actual death. It can mean letting go of life here for Christ's sake.
Kelly adds how rarely this demand takes its extreme form, and how often it takes a small one.
We may not often be called to lay down our life for our brothers. But are there not plain, simple, everyday ways in which it can be tested? My brother may be in need. It is no use talking about being ready to die for my brother if I shrink back from meeting his ordinary and perhaps urgent need. There is nothing grand here. It is very ordinary, but how practical! It puts the heart to the test, and the test may come any day of the week.
- Look: Love is not explained here but exhibited — one Man, one act, one place. "If you want to know what love is, look here."
- Learn: Hatred and love each run back to a source — hatred to the devil, love to the One who laid down His life.
- Owe: His death stood in our place, and nothing can match it. Ours is service, and John calls it a debt — "we ought," not "we do."
- Live: Some read this as literal death, others as the daily letting go of one's own life. Both say the new life supplies the power.
- Aim: The target is not a noble cause in general but the children of God — love spent where His love was spent.
But whoso may have the world's substance, and see his brother having need, and shut up his bowels from him, how abides the love of God in him?
John has just pointed to the cross as the measure of love. Christ laid down His life for us, so we ought to do the same for one another. Verse 17 brings that standard down to cold, sickness and hunger. It turns it into a question that searches the heart.
Everyday life brings its own calls on love.
But we are also taught this: without pressing that extreme proof, there is an appeal to our hearts at our own door… Come now; look at everyday matters. Laying down our lives for fellow believers may rarely fall to us here. But ordinary need comes up often, and we know it well where we live: a brother or sister in desperate need. How does it present itself to your soul? How does our love answer to the suffering of the poor brother or sister?
Each phrase in the verse carries weight: what a person owns, what he sees, what he holds back.
"Whoever has the world's goods" means whoever has the world's means of living. And John does not say merely "sees." The man looks at, gazes on, takes in his brother's need in full. That brother may have made no sign at all, never complained, never mentioned his trouble to anyone. This silence ought to appeal to our hearts all the more. He has borne the strain without a word of complaint; she has endured and told only God about it. But with our eyes wide open, seeing our brother's trouble, we hesitate. A man has the means to help and relieve, yet instead he "closes his heart" against the sufferer. There is no need to add "of compassion," which is clearly implied… He does not ask me to die for my brother. He does ask that my love go out to someone who is suffering from cold, sickness, hunger, or other pain — with means beyond my own real needs.
The closing question asks how God's love abides in a person. Whose love does that phrase mean?
Here is another mark: the love of God dwelling in a person. It is not simply love toward God, because it is the spirit in which a person himself walks toward his fellow believers. The power of this divine nature living in us shows itself in love to God and to other people. The love of God dwelling in us is the way of God Himself, who through the Spirit brings His love into us. It is not God's love to us, but it is the power of that love working in us, and therefore it will soon show itself to others.
Why does John ask a question instead of giving a command?
Love is active in God, and that activity must mark His children. It is not simply a matter of duty or obligation. It belongs to their nature, and it shows itself as they walk in communion with God. That is the force of verse 17. Of course, the verse can be used to stir the conscience where there appears to be carelessness or indifference. But the apostle is exposing the mere claim to love fellow believers as unreal. His argument is this: how can love be there if it never acts? How can love that comes from God live where it is never used?
Who is responsible to meet the need?
Is this not to be a real, personal exercise and responsibility before God? It is not a demand that the government relieve the poor out of public funds, while I take nothing from my own pocket. Nor is it setting up a charity that asks the world to support the poor… To give where there is no need is of course a mistake. Still, it is better to err on the side of kindness than on the side of greed and hard-heartedness.
Open-handed giving still needs judgment.
Yet we must not encourage evil. We may share in a man's sin by giving to him — for example, if we knew he would spend the money on getting drunk. The New Testament uses two words for "covetousness." One means wanting more than you have. The other means keeping back what you ought to give. The Lord does not count as people do. By God's measure the poor widow gave more than all the rest, though the others gave something too. The Lord still sits watching the treasury.
- Source. The love in view comes down from God into us. It is not our feeling toward Him but "the power of that love working in us" — and that power always shows itself.
- Descent. That love steps down from the cross to the cupboard. Laying down a life may rarely fall to us; ordinary need comes up often.
- Sight. The verse turns on a look. Not a glance, but a full view of a need the sufferer may never have mentioned.
- Proof. John asks a question instead of giving a rule. He exposes the mere claim to love as unreal: love that never acts was never there.
- Purse. The answer comes from my own pocket, not from public funds. Be generous, but not blind: covetousness also means "keeping back what you ought to give."
Children, let us not love with word, nor with tongue, but in deed and in truth.
John's appeal is short, but it lands on the thing that is easiest to fake. He asks whether our love ever shows up outside our talk.
The two phrases John rejects are not one idea said twice. One writer goes back to the Greek behind the first word and finds it covers more than speech. (The ESV renders the two phrases "in word or talk.")
The apostle says, "Let us love not in word, neither in tongue." This looks like repetition, but it is not. The term "logos," here translated "word," has a much wider meaning than our "word." In English, "not in word, neither in tongue" is repetition. But this word "logos" means, in Greek, not merely the word by which thought is expressed, but the thought itself. So the apostle's point is this. We are not to love in theory (or in thought), nor in mere language ("in tongue"), but in deed and in truth.
Commentators differ on the exact shade of the two terms. Another reads them as the plain statement and then the skill of saying it well:
In 'word' is the actual expression coming from our lips, which may be very good, but with no actions to back it up. In 'tongue' would rather indicate the handling of the words, the art of persuasive speech. How empty this is if its truth is not proved in our deeds.
The verse does not just call for activity. It calls for acts that come out of love:
Love as a theory is held to be very beautiful — but it is not practised. The heart deceives itself. This is loving in thought only. This passage is the reverse of 1 Corinthians 13. There Paul deals with works without love. Here it is, as it were, love without works — that is, mere sentimentality. But our passage crushes both errors. It condemns love without deeds, and also deeds without love. It calls for deeds, but the deeds must come from love; that is, not in theory, nor in talk, but in acts and in truth.
The call is not a random rule. God asks us to answer Him in the way He loved us:
God looks for reality. He is not satisfied with mere words of high profession. He says to us, "Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth." He, blessed be His name, did not love us in word or in talk. He loved us in deed and in truth. And He looks for a response from us — a response that is clear, full, and distinct. It is a response that comes out in a life of good works.
Dying for a fellow believer is rare. One writer points to a test far closer to home:
We may not often be called to lay down our life for our brothers and sisters. But are there not plain, simple, everyday ways in which love is tested? My brother may have need. It is no use talking about being ready to die for him if I shrink back at once from meeting his ordinary, and maybe urgent, need. There is nothing great here. It is ordinary, but how practical! How it puts the heart to the test, and it is a test that could come any day of the week.
Another writer pictures how that failure looks in daily life:
"Let us not love in word or talk." It would not be divine love to send the poor brother away with a blessing — I mean a spoken one, so well known — and the latest improved tract. Divine love gives real, material help.
Talk about love can even take the form of complaining that others lack it:
This is a duty about which many deceive themselves. Nothing is easier than to call for love and complain that others are short of it. But some who are loudest in the complaint are very short of it themselves. They want, or think they want, to be objects of love; but the right way is for us to love, if we would indeed be loved. When the heart goes out in goodness with no selfish aim, it draws out other hearts. The lip, though, learns all too easily to talk about love and stop there.
Love like this also does something inside the believer:
The point here is that if we love in deed and in truth, our hearts will have assurance before God, and so have boldness in prayer.
- Pattern. God did not love us in word or talk, so words alone cannot be our answer to Him.
- Word. John rules out two things: the private theory of love, and the polished talk about it.
- Balance. The verse cuts two ways: it condemns love without deeds, and deeds that do not come from love.
- Test. The test is rarely dying for a brother. It is meeting his ordinary need today with real help, not a kind sentence.
- Result. Love proved in deeds gives the heart assurance before God. That assurance gives boldness in prayer.