Walking With Christ

(Part 7 of 8)

John 13:34–35  (34)A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another:  just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.  (35)By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”(ESV)

We know this verse.  Maybe too well.  Love one another.  It sounds safe.  Familiar.  Christian.

It appears on signs, shirts, coffee mugs, church walls, and social media graphics.  We nod.

Of course Christians should love one another.  Then we keep reading.  Maybe we shouldn’t.

Because Jesus says something much more specific than:  “Love is important.”

He says:  “By this all people will know that you are my disciples.”

Pause there.

Jesus gives the world evidence by which His disciples can be recognized.  And it isn’t the evidence we often prefer.

He doesn’t say:

They’ll know you’re My disciples because your theology is precise.

They’ll know because your worship is powerful.

Because your church is growing.

Your political positions are correct.

Your moral standards are higher.

You can defend Christianity in an argument.

You have spiritual gifts.

You know Scripture.

You condemn the right sins.

Some of those things are still important.

Truth, doctrine, holiness, obedience, and discernment all matter.

Jesus isn’t dismissing any of them.  But when He tells His disciples what will visibly identify them to the world, He chooses something else.

Love.

For one another.

That should make us uncomfortable.

Because we’ve invented many easier measurements.

We can measure attendance, giving, knowledge, and growth.

We can count baptisms, ministries, and followers.

We can examine doctrinal statements, evaluate sermons, and argue theology.

Love is harder to fake over time.

Especially love for people who are close enough to become inconvenient.

Jesus doesn’t say:  “Love humanity.”

Humanity is easy to love in the abstract because humanity never interrupts dinner.

Humanity doesn’t disagree with you, forget your birthday, vote differently, disappoint you, or sit in your church and annoy you every week.

People do.  “One another” has faces.

Personalities.  Weaknesses.  Opinions.  Histories.  Habits.  Wounds.  Needs.

Sometimes sins.

That’s where love becomes measurable.

Not in our affection for an idea.  In our treatment of people.

Then Jesus raises the standard even higher.  “Just as I have loved you.”

That changes everything.

He doesn’t tell us to love one another according to what feels reasonable.

He gives Himself as the pattern.  And He says this on the night before the cross.

Jesus has washed the disciples’ feet.  Judas is preparing to betray Him.  Peter will deny Him.  The others will scatter.  Jesus knows all of that.

And still He says:  “Just as I have loved you.”  That’s not sentimental love.  It’s costly.

Patient.  Truthful.  Serving.  Sacrificial.

Love that washes feet, tells hard truths, restores failures, bears weakness, and lays down its life.

That’s the evidence Jesus gives the world.

Which raises an uncomfortable question.

What does the world see when it looks at us?

Not what do we claim?

What do they see?

If someone watched how Christians speak to one another, would they recognize Christ?

If someone watched how churches handle disagreement, would they recognize Christ?

If someone watched how we treat believers from another denomination, another tradition, another background, would they recognize Christ?

If someone watched how we respond when another Christian fails, would they see restoration or delight in destruction?

If someone watched how we talk about each other when the other person is not present, what evidence would they collect?

That question is dangerous because Christians can be very good at defending truth while violating love.

And then we tell ourselves the truth makes the lovelessness acceptable.

It doesn’t.

Paul says we can speak in the tongues of men and angels and still become noise without love.

We can understand mysteries.  Possess knowledge.  Have extraordinary faith.  Give away possessions.  Make tremendous sacrifices.  And without love, Paul says we gain nothing.

That isn’t soft theology.  That’s severe.

Scripture doesn’t give us permission to choose between truth and love.  Jesus is full of grace and truth.

Christian maturity requires both.  Love without truth can become indulgence.  Truth without love can become cruelty.

Neither reflects Christ fully.  But there’s another danger.

We sometimes redefine love until it means nothing more than agreement.

If you love me, you’ll approve of everything I do.  If you correct me, you don’t love me.  If you establish a boundary, you don’t love me.  If you tell me something I don’t want to hear, you don’t love me.

That isn’t biblical love either.

Jesus loved people enough to confront them.  He told people to repent.  He exposed hypocrisy.  He corrected His disciples.  He overturned tables.  He allowed people to walk away.

Love isn’t the refusal to tell truth.  Love determines why the truth is being told and what we hope it accomplishes.

Do I want restoration?  Or victory?

Do I want repentance?  Or humiliation?

Do I want the person restored to God?  Or do I simply want everyone to know I was right?

Those motivations can look very similar from the outside.  God sees the difference.

So does the person receiving them eventually.

That may be why Jesus’ test is so difficult.

Love reaches beneath performance.

It asks what happens when there is no audience.

When there is no applause.  When nobody will know you served.  When forgiving costs something.  When patience gets exhausting.  When another person’s weakness interferes with your plans.  When correction must be given gently.  When reconciliation requires humility.  When you would rather win.

That’s where discipleship becomes visible.

We often want the world to recognize Christianity because of our arguments.  Jesus says they should recognize His disciples by their love.

That doesn’t make apologetics useless.  It doesn’t make doctrine optional.  It doesn’t make holiness irrelevant.

It means our defense of Christianity can become strangely self-defeating if our behavior contradicts the Christ we’re defending.

We can win the argument and lose the witness.  We can prove our position and fail the test Jesus gave.

That should make us pause.

Especially because Christians are often very concerned about how the world views Christianity.

We ask why people distrust the Church.  Why they think Christians are hypocritical.  Why they are hostile toward Christian beliefs.

Some of those criticisms are unfair.  Some people will reject Christ regardless of how faithfully Christians live.

Jesus warned us about that too.  But before blaming every negative perception on hostility toward truth, perhaps we should ask the question Jesus gives us.

Do they see love?

Not perfection.  Love.

Do they see Christians bearing with one another?  Forgiving one another?  Serving one another?  Correcting one another without destroying one another?  Disagreeing without hatred?  Refusing to turn brothers and sisters into enemies?  Walking through conflict without abandoning Christlike character?

That’s what makes this passage so much heavier than its familiarity suggests.

“Love one another” isn’t decorative Christianity.

Jesus makes it evidence.  “By this all people will know…”

Those words should stop us.

Because the world is watching something.

The question is what evidence we are giving them.

Maybe they see our doctrine.

Maybe they see our buildings.

Our politics.

Our arguments.

Scandals.

Divisions.

Maybe all they see is our anger.

Jesus said there was something else they should be able to see.

Love.

So read the verse again.

Don’t let “love one another” disappear into familiar Christian language.  Keep reading.  “By this all people will know that you are my disciples…”

By what?  Love.

Now ask the harder question.

If someone knew nothing about Christ except what they saw in the way I treat other Christians, what would they conclude about Him?

Don’t answer quickly.

Pause there.