1 John 2:7 “Dear friends, I am not writing you a new command but an old one, which you have had since the beginning. This old command is the message you have heard.”

The “command” about which John is writing is the one-word command that sums up and covers everything God ever told his people to do: love. Unlike other kinds of love, it is not based on some attractiveness in the object of our love. That is why Jesus can tell us to love our enemies. It is why the apostles can expect us to love our husbands and wives even if time isn’t kind to their appearance, and their behavior changes in ways we find irritating. It is why a church full of flawed and broken people can hold together and form a genuine bond of respect and care for each other. This love works like God’s own love for us.

This is not something new. A thousand years before Jesus, Solomon wrote “love your enemies” this way: “If your enemy hungers, feed him. If he thirsts, give him something to drink” (Proverbs 25:21). Five hundred years before that, Moses commands not only that we love our neighbor, but even the stranger: “The alien living among you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself…” (Leviticus 19:34). And, of course, “Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18).

Hasn’t this love been part of our own faith from the beginning? Long before my parents ever took me to the pastor for confirmation class; long before they sat me down in front of my first Sunday School teacher; love was part of the Christianity they were teaching me at home.

But it is more than a rule I was taught, written instructions I was supposed to learn and then put into practice. The kind of love the Bible teaches is the product of a Christian faith. It is what faith does.

I once owned a home with two fruit trees in the yard–a fig tree and a pomegranate. We planted both of them. We wouldn’t have expected figs and pomegranates to spontaneously appear before we planted the trees. You need the trees for that. After we planted the trees, we didn’t have tell them what to do. We just had to keep them healthy. Making figs and pomegranates is what those kinds of trees do.

 My parents couldn’t expect me to spontaneously produce a life of Christian love any more than figs and pomegranates could spontaneously grow out of the grass in my back yard. They had to plant faith in me. This they did when they brought me to baptism, and taught me Bible stories, and took me to church.

From the moment you first believed in Jesus as your Savior, Christian love started growing in you, and coming out of you. It has always been a part of your faith. That is another reason John can write: “I am not writing you a new command but an old one, which you have had since the beginning. This old command is the message which you have heard.” This is how faith-born love works: It begins where our faith begins, and it has been growing, and spreading, and taking over in our lives ever since.

Calling this an “old” command or message isn’t a knock against it, either. John isn’t saying that “love” is like an athlete at the end of his career. You know, he used to be a brilliant point guard with electrifying moves and the ability to score from anywhere, but now he is just a washed-up-has-been who’s too old to compete and needs to retire.

We may feel that way about Christian love sometimes, especially when it asks us to give up something we wanted in order to help someone else…again. But love is not worn out or discredited. It hasn’t stopped applying.

Love is a “classic.” The older it is, the more valuable it becomes. It has stood the test of time. It is tried and true. Old, faithful Christian love is authentic. It really cares and it’s here to help because it wants to be. It’s consistent. It doesn’t flip-flop in how it regards or treats the objects of its affections. It’s been that way since the beginning.