80 friends have opened a study shared with them this month.
We love John 3:16 because it feels safe. It's an inspirational thought printed on bumper stickers and In-N-Out cups. But if you read the whole passage, the text starts to feel uncomfortably intrusive. Jesus didn't come to offer a ticket to heaven. He shines a spotlight on our worst secrets. But why?
John 3:16-21
For God loved the world in this way: He gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Anyone who believes in him is not condemned, but anyone who does not believe is already condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. This is the judgment: The light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil. For everyone who does evil hates the light and avoids it, so that his deeds may not be exposed. But anyone who lives by the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be shown to be accomplished by God.
When my kids were small and acted out in the grocery store, my wife and I had a running joke. We'd whisper to each other, "Your kid is misbehaving." It was funny, but it revealed a deeper instinct: when there's a problem, we want to distance ourselves. God doesn't do this. When the world was at its darkest, God didn't say, "This is your problem." Instead, God gave his only Son. It's a Father running into traffic. But here's the hard part of this passage: John says we actually love the darkness. Not only do we love evil, we love secrets. Darkness lets us curate a good reputation while concealing our jealousy, our browser history, and our petty resentments. Especially for religious people, it's hard to admit the ugly truths about our lives. We fear the light because we assume exposure means rejection. We think, "If they really saw me, they'd reject me." But Jesus didn't come to expose you and leave you exposed. He came not to condemn, but to save. He sees the hidden things you're most ashamed of, and he still gave his life for you. In John's Gospel, "belief" is the start of the process, not the end. It's the first step toward living in the light. Coming to the light isn't a performance for God. It's the end of performing. The passage ends with a phrase that sounds impossible or moralistic: our works are "shown to be accomplished by God." Here's what that looks like: being fully human, the way Jesus was human. It's the freedom to tell the truth about who you are, because your identity is secure in his love. The freedom to love, because you've been loved. When you stop performing, something strange happens. People don't see your moral achievement. They see grace at work in an honest life. That's what the light offers. Not a better version of hiding. Actual life.
John says people "loved darkness... so that their deeds may not be exposed." Where do you feel the pull to manage your image rather than be real?
Does the idea of God seeing everything feel like a threat or a relief? Why?
What's one thing you've been keeping in the dark that might lose its power if you brought it into the light?
Before bed tonight, tell a trusted friend one true thing about yourself you've been tempted to hide. Not your worst secret. Just something real you've been managing your image around.
80 friends have opened a study shared with them this month.