BEING WITH MY grandkids, helping to care for them, is a bit like traveling through time. I’m transported back to what it was like to be a dad, watching the little ones grow and learn about limits. Kids want what they want — and they want it now. Sometimes they want to do things they shouldn’t, but don’t understand that. After all, how are they supposed to know that sticking a screwdriver into an electrical outlet is a bad idea? (And for the parents reading this, if your toddler has free access to screwdrivers and electrical outlets, we need to talk.)
Kids would rather eat cookies than broccoli (go figure). They’d rather drink out of the dog’s dish than enjoy that nice cup of milk you just poured for them. And when you try to get them to eat the broccoli or stop lapping up the dog’s water, they may…object. Less than politely. Toddlers don’t yet have the ability to understand why they can’t have what they want, nor can they see things from an adult’s point of view. With some loving patience from their parents, they’ll grow into it; they’ll learn some perspective. But meanwhile their words or behavior may seem to say, You are the worst parent in the world.
Kids, of course, can be quite different from each other right from the start, even within the same household. Some kids seem to take disappointment in stride (more or less), while others have a meltdown anytime they don’t get their way. But while their reactions may differ in volume and intensity, nobody likes to be thwarted. Nobody likes to be told “no.” Toddlers say, “You’re not the boss of me” because they’d rather be their own boss. They want what they want, they want to do what they want to do, and they don’t want anyone else getting in the way.
And even as adults, some of us never quite grow out of that way of being in the world.
IN HIS LETTER, the apostle John seems to have been addressing some confusion about sin and the Christian life that arose when people in his community started adopting and teaching new ideas. He’s tried to reassure his readers that they have been spiritually reborn by God’s initiative and are therefore his children — and anyone who is truly a child of God should show a family resemblance. Indeed, he teaches, we should look forward to the day when Jesus returns, and strive to become more and more like him now.
Having said this, the apostle returns to the topic of sin. He writes:
Everyone who sins breaks the law; in fact, sin is lawlessness. But you know that he appeared so that he might take away our sins. And in him is no sin. (1 John 3:4-5, NIV)
John has already reminded them that they’ve known the truth about Jesus ever since they heard and received the apostolic gospel. They already know that Jesus was righteous; there was no sin in him. And they know that he was sent from the Father to take away the sin of the world, as John the Baptist proclaims at the beginning of John’s gospel (John 1:29).
Here, however, John adds an important nuance to the discussion. When he says that “everyone who sins breaks the law,” that’s no surprise to anyone. God is the lawgiver. He is by nature righteous, and all true distinctions between right and wrong ultimately have their origin in him.
But what does he mean when he says that “sin is lawlessness”?
THINK BACK TO the story in Matthew 15:1-20, when Jesus’ opponents criticize him for letting his disciples eat without washing their hands, in violation of Jewish tradition. In response, Jesus criticizes them for their self-serving and hypocritical ways; he quotes Isaiah to describe them as being superficial rule-followers whose hearts are far from God.
Then he teaches his disciples that a person isn’t rendered ceremonially unclean by what goes into the mouth. Rather, their uncleanness is demonstrated by what comes out of their mouths, because their words reveal who they are at the core of their being.
John, I think, is saying something similar. Breaking the law is a matter of errant behavior, but “lawlessness” is a matter of the heart, of who one is at the core, and not simply what one does.
Here’s an example. I confess that I break the law all the time, practically every time I get behind the wheel of a car. You know what I’m talking about: speed limits. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that anyone who fails to stick to the posted speed limit is doomed to perdition. But have you ever noticed you were driving too quickly, felt a pang of guilt, and then quickly thought, “Well, I’m not driving as fast as that joker who just blew by me”? In other words, Yeah, I’m breaking the law, but not as badly as he is, so I guess I’m good, right?
Or to take it a step further: if the Highway Patrol pulled me over to give me a speeding ticket, would I think they had no right?
“Lawlessness” isn’t just breaking the law. It’s a moral stance, a condition of the heart. It’s resenting that the law keeps me from doing what I want to do. More importantly, it’s saying to God, “You’re not the boss of me.”
Everything unravels from there. That’s why John has to remind his readers of the importance of what they already know of the gospel: “But you know that he appeared so that he might take away our sins. And in him is no sin.” He says this because to deny God’s moral authority is to deny God’s righteousness and the very idea of sin. To deny sin makes the life of Jesus unremarkable, and rejects the need for his sacrificial death on the cross.
It’s not an alternative gospel; it’s anti-gospel, anti-Christ.
And as we’ll see shortly, “You’re not the boss of me” goes all the way back to the story of the very first human beings, who let themselves be tricked by a wily serpent.