John 1.4
In him was life, and the life was the light of men.
John continues his thinking from the first three verses of his Gospel, mindful of the creation passage of Genesis One. God is the creator of life so, Jesus, being God, is also the creator of life.
The biggest problem with being human is that we die. Medical science has made great strides, for which we can all be grateful…but we cannot be eternally grateful, because medical science can’t keep us around that long. In fact, science hasn’t really provided for the lengthening of human life—it has only increased the fraction most of us will live of life’s limits. Even if science could figure out a way for us to live vigorously for 120 years, life is still a blink. Ask an elderly person, “How long has your life seemed to you?” “Just yesterday I was a freckle-faced kid learning to ride a bike,” or some such answer is likely to be the response. “Where did the time go?” Time flies.
The statement that life is in Jesus makes a suggestion. The curse snatched life away from humans. By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return – Genesis 3.19. But Jesus, who was not only God, but also man, possessed life. The fact that Jesus possessed life raises the question of whether he intends to share that life with us. Otherwise, why does John make a point of it?
We will have to shelve the question for the moment. John is not ready to talk about everlasting implications just yet. First he wants us to recognize that the life of Jesus, in itself was a light. He was a revelation. Before John is ready to talk about everlasting implications, he wants to talk about implications for the present.
“Light” is used metaphorically in this passage, representing understanding. Psalm 119.105 says: Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. The idea is that, without God’s guidance, we stumble around in the dark. With his light we can see where we’re going. Metaphorically this means that we’re given a sense of what we’re doing. This doesn’t mean that those who follow his guidance are suddenly filled with information and can solve all kinds of challenging problems. It means that, whatever a person may do, the actions are now in a context of meaning and direction. There is purpose to our activity. By implication, this means that there ought to be purpose in our activity. I would further argue that there is a hint of the everlasting in this, since meaning can’t really exist in the temporal. Following the light adds everlasting purpose and impact to the follower’s actions.
If Jesus’ life is the light of men (all humans), then we find our purpose and meaning in following him. His life provides the example of how life should be lived. We have to be a little careful here since, while Jesus was a man, he was also God. (He was and is both man and God.) We are not capable of doing all he could do. We are not sinless, for example, and that is a huge disadvantage for us. But we still look to him as our model.
Jesus was a teacher. He spoke the truth. We, too, can speak the truth. We can speak what we know, and we can speak tentatively when we are uncertain, and we can remain silent when we are without insights.
Jesus was a healer. We may not have the power to give sight to the blind, or raise people from the dead, but we have the power to support people with needs, whatever those needs may be. And we can use our technical proficiencies to do this, whether we serve as doctors or lawyers or as grocery store cashiers. We have the potential to be apathetic, or to be contrary, or we can be of help to others through any and all circumstances.
We can be a friend to the friendless. We can speak out against injustice. Jesus had the confusing habit of barking at injustice, while embracing those who were well-known sinners. This is a hard truth about what it means to be like him. We don’t get to hate the abortionist, or the mob that stormed the Capitol. We don’t get to hate those who flew jets into the World Trade Center, or those who would teach children their sex is a personal choice, without intrinsic significance. We don’t get to hate those who speed by in ear-shattering gas hogs, and we don’t get to hate those who protest their oppression with violence and looting. It’s hard to speak the truth and remain loving. People will hate you for it. But this is what Jesus did.
He lived without sinning which, in our present state, is not possible for us. We can love holiness and strive for it, however. The world is a funny place today. Many people look at Christians and scorn them for their self-righteousness. But those who scorn are not really talking about self-righteousness; they usually are scorning the concept of righteousness, itself. “How dare you suggest that your morality applies to everyone? I decide what’s right for me!” At the same time we see a new “liberal legalism” (an oxymoron) that demands conformity to the progressive ethos. We live in a world of deep spiritual turmoil—a world that clamors for personal independence, even as it clamors for social conformity. There is no peace in this; there is no resolution to this contradiction. What a relief it is that there is a Guide who is in himself light.
We must never imagine ourselves as holier than others. Such a viewpoint is only proof of hubris…which is a sin. Richard Labonte coined the saying, “The common denominator in all your failed relationships is you.” I am thankful to be in a number of good relationships. But when I stop to think about those relationships, I know that none of them are as good as they ought to be. And then I think of the many relationships I’ve let fade away, or the relationships I’ve had that were fairly meaningless, or of the relationships that were characterized by conflict and anger. Thinking about these relationships is humbling. It’s a reminder to pursue my relationships in ways that improve them. The point is that no one has damaged our lives more than we have, ourselves. Perhaps if we were more honest about our own failures we would be more compassionate towards others. What amazes me about Jesus is that he was sympathetic towards sinful people even though he had never tripped over temptation. He was compassionate simply because people needed his compassion.
Jesus made his relationship with his Father the focal point of his life. Sin is not fundamentally about doing bad things; it is fundamentally turning one’s back on God. It is failure to trust God. Jesus saw sin in this personal way. He would permit nothing between himself and his heavenly Father. The most dramatic example of this is when Peter objected to Jesus telling the disciples that he was going to suffer and be crucified. Jesus turned on Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan!” Peter was one of Jesus’ dearest friends but he was inserting himself between Jesus and the will of his Father. In one sense, Peter was saying exactly what Jesus wanted to hear—it was a severe temptation. But it was much like Satan’s temptations of Jesus in the desert: deeply appealing…but hiding in the shadows, terrible consequences.
Jesus worked on his relationship with his Father, just as we need to. He prayed often. We have few specific references to him reading scriptures but it is clear that he studied them at length. When he was twelve years old he was already astonishing the teachers in the temple at Jerusalem. All who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. – Luke 2.47. The Gospels record Jesus quoting or referring to Old Testament passages more than 50 times. He studied scriptures in order to better understand the heart and mind of his Father. We, too, have the right to pray, without intercessors, to our heavenly Father. And we have one advantage over Jesus in that we have New Testament scriptures, as well. The life of Jesus is filled with light, and that light was given for our benefit.
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