I am currently studying the book of 1 John, and I’ve been both challenged and intrigued by several of his points. I wanted to jot them down before forgetting and hopefully root them a little deeper into my heart. I’ve also added a few “practicals” at the end of each reflection, not because I’ve mastered them (definitely not!), but because thinking practically also helps me remember. As I heard recently, “action is evidence of knowledge.”
1. “The one who says he remains in Him should walk just as He walked.” 1 John 2:6
I love the use of the word “walk” here. If we claim to follow Christ, it’s not enough to simply do what He did. We’re invited to actually move through this world the way He did.
At first glance those may sound like the same thing, but I think there might be a difference. I picture a child who wants to be like their dad. They slip on his shoes, imitate his gestures, or pretend to work at his job. But it’s mimicry. As the child grows older, (assuming the father has been a good example), they no longer copy his mannerisms but begin to see his character. They’re no longer stealing his shoes (usually). Instead, when faced with certain situations, they look to his example of patience, his integrity, his way of being. They begin to move through the world as their father once did.
When I was a young Christian, I desperately wanted to do everything right (ahhh…the curse of perfectionism!). I combed through the gospels, writing down every command I could find, and measured myself against them. Instead of drawing me closer to Jesus, this left me feeling weary and guilty. I admired Him, but didn’t always feel close to Him. And I often struggled to know how His actions translated into my 21st-century life.
As I’ve grown, I’ve come to notice not only what Jesus said but how He lived: the way He touched, loved, listened, challenged, rested, wept, withdrew, prayed. The way He forgave even those who were not remorseful, showed courage, held compassion and conviction together, and even allowed Himself to be vulnerable. His example is beautiful. Now, more and more, I feel drawn to Him and His heart for others.
I think many of us, myself included, have missed this at times. We can become so focused on His clear instructions (forgive, don’t steal, go the extra mile) that we overlook the daily rhythm of His life: healing, caring, sharing truth in love, and seeking out those on the margins—with no agenda for what they might believe or how they might respond. Walking as Jesus walked means not only obeying commands, but moving through the world with that same posture of unconditional love.
Of course, some might say, “But Jesus still spoke truth.” And He did. Yet His truth was never used as a weapon, it always came through love. He held both together perfectly, showing us that while truth can exist apart from love, genuine love will always hold truth within it.
And this is what He came to show us. He didn’t come only to hand us commandments; we already had those. He came to embody them. And now, we are invited to embody Him. Living like Christ means seeking His heart in everything we do.
What this could look like:
- Slowing down enough in the grocery line to notice the weary cashier and offer a kind word.
- Checking in on a lonely neighbor, even when there’s no “spiritual agenda” attached.
- Reading through the gospels and picturing how Jesus interacted with each individual. What was His posture toward each person or group? Why?
- Seeking an opportunity to interact with someone radically different from myself and working to understand them (again without an agenda).
- Listening longer than feels comfortable, instead of jumping in with my own thoughts or opinions.
2.“Do not love this world nor the things it offers you, for when you love the world, you do not have the love of the Father in you. For the world offers only a craving for physical pleasure, a craving for everything we see, and pride in our achievements and possessions. These are not from the Father, but are from this world.” 1 John 2:15–16
I’ve never thought of myself as worldly. That sounds arrogant. But, in my mind, worldliness has meant fast cars, shiny things, or shallow living. This verse, however, pushes deeper. It forces me to consider where I look for identity, security, and worth.
John’s description of “loving the world” feels less about chasing wealth and more about a posture of consumerism: craving pleasure, praise, possessions, or validation. I recently learned the Latin phrase incurvatus in se, which means “curved inward on oneself.” The image struck me. Instead of standing upright with eyes outward, it pictures a person bent over, consumed with self. And honestly, I recognize that posture in me. I can get caught up in how I look, what I achieve, what others think of me, far more than in love, generosity, or mercy.
The world feeds this posture all the time. Social media tells us to cut off people who don’t benefit us, to showcase success, to polish ourselves until flaws disappear. Seek comfort at any cost; pursue the cultivated body and the perfect home. We’re pushed to compete, to place our opinions above curiosity, and to measure worth by accomplishments. Even good works can slip into pride, becoming less about love and more about being noticed. I know how quickly my own motivation can get tangled up in whether I’ll be recognized. And when that happens, people stop being neighbors to love and start becoming measures of my own “goodness”.
For years, I read this verse as if it meant: “God can’t love me if I love the world”. But this time I heard it differently. Maybe the point isn’t that God’s love disappears, but that when I’m “curved” inward, I can’t live out the love He’s already given me. A clenched fist cannot give what it holds.
That’s why it matters to recognize these patterns, not only out in the world, but in our own hearts, and then seek another way. Romans 12 says it best: “Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think.”
What comforts me is remembering this: God’s love doesn’t change when I bend inward. He doesn’t shame me for it. Instead, He keeps inviting me to uncurl, to stand up straight, to lift my eyes outward again. He wants to reshape my entire value system if I let Him. To remind me that His love is already mine, and it was never meant to stop with me, but to flow outward into love for others.
What this could look like:
- Celebrating someone else’s win without comparing it to my own.
- Showing up “real”, being honest about what feels hard.
- Forgiving (or at least working toward forgiveness) before the other person acknowledges wrongdoing.
- Doing something kind in secret.
- Practicing gratitude when I’m tempted with negativity.
- Pray that God reveals the ways I may be copying the behaviors and patterns of this world. (Psalm 129:34)
3. “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” 1 John 4:18
This has always been one of my favorite verses. I’ve leaned on it in moments when I’ve been afraid to enter a new space or in strained relationships. It reminds me that fear has no place in love. It motivates me to walk into situations with more courage than I might have on my own. But it’s also one of the hardest verses for me, because it speaks so directly to my relationship with God.
Another translation says: “Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced His perfect love.” I don’t like that. I want to believe I’ve experienced God’s perfect love, but the truth is: I still feel fear when I imagine standing face-to-face with Him.
Not long ago, I attended a lesson on spiritual meditation. It ended with an exercise: “Look at God, looking at you, in love.” I had been engaged through the whole meditation, examining my heart, laying down mistakes, even sensing more peace. But when the speaker invited us to imagine looking into God’s loving gaze, I froze. Why, after so many years, was that still so hard? I realized there’s a part of me that still struggles to believe I am fully accepted. There’s still shame and guilt simmering beneath the surface.
I don’t share this as a confession to cause concern or as proof of failure. I share it because it’s just where I am in my walk with God. My head knows God’s love is full and complete, but my heart often lags behind. And yet even that gives me hope. Because if I can’t free myself from shame, then maybe freedom will have to come from grace alone. Maybe my weakness in fully grasping His love will only be healed by His love.
One day, when I can finally look into His eyes without shrinking back, I’ll know: it was not my effort, my discipline, or my knowledge that set me free. It was Him. Only Him.
What this could look like:
- Going into a hard conversation with the mindset, How can I love this person? instead of, What if they reject me?
- Taking a step toward reconciliation even if it feels awkward.
- Sitting in silence, even for a few moments, relying on truth more than feeling, and imagining God looking at me with love (resisting the urge to turn away).
- Creating a list of verses that speak truthfully of God’s grace and desire to be near us.
Conclusion
I know these reflections only brush the surface of 1 John. I honestly felt like I could spend weeks with each verse. As I read through the book though, and especially as I’ve sat with these particular passages, it seemed all of the verses led to one center: love.
The love God has already poured out for us.
The love we are free to extend to others.
The love we can’t help but return to Him.
And it all circles back again to… the love God has already poured out for us.
As one commentary put it: “What matters most to John is coming to terms with life,
and for him to live is to learn to love God, self, and others.”
Do you have any practicals you might add to the ones listed throughout this post? If so, I’d love to hear them! Please offer them in the comments below.
Thin Air, High Hope 
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