Acts 4:32 “All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had.”

Few things turn people off from religion so much as divisions. I have talked to many Christians who left the church because of the internal battles they saw, the congregational splits they experienced. Most large denominations go to annual or biennial conventions and argue about church teachings. This has been going on at least since the Jerusalem Council debated the importance of circumcision in Acts 15, about 48 or 49 A.D.

Local congregations develop competing cliques, and meetings where people are discussing God’s work sometimes get mean and nasty. I used to wince when some newly minted graduates of my membership class attended their first voters meeting and watched a couple of “mature” Christian men duke it out verbally in front of the rest of the congregation.

This takes some Christians by surprise. It shouldn’t. When we came to faith, our sinful streak didn’t disappear. Pastor Mark Gungor tells those surprised that he, a married man, notices other pretty women, “Just because I’m sanctified doesn’t mean I’m petrified.” To the people who asked him how he became an alcoholic after he got saved, evangelist Brennan Manning answered, “Coming to faith didn’t turn me into the spiritual equivalent of a patient etherized on an operating table.” The fact of the sinful nature still living in the Christian person means the church will experience rivalries, internal battles, and divisions.

We can all work and pray for more periods of church life like the church in Jerusalem was experiencing here: “All the believers were one in heart and mind.” This does not mean they merely tolerated each other. They didn’t agree to disagree. They functioned as though they all shared the same heart and the same brain. They believed the same things, they lived the same love, because Jesus lived in every one of them by his Holy Spirit.

When God led them to believe that, at the cross, Jesus removed the guilt for every sin, this gave them peace. They didn’t have to live in terror that God was going to punish them. Jesus had set them free from their sins. They were now convinced that God loved them all the time. Death was no longer the scary prospect of facing God’s angry judgment at the end of life. It was their final escape. It was the way home.

This was more than a new way of thinking. God himself was remaking them in his own image, restoring the purity, love, and innocence mankind lost when we fell into sin. When we come to faith, Jesus moves into each believer’s heart and makes it his own home.

This may all take place in the heart and mind on the inside. But this faith has a face. “No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had.” Martin Luther once said that the last thing to be converted is the pocketbook. We will change all kinds of behavior after we come to faith. But ask me to let go of my stuff, suggest that I might sacrifice the security of a full bank account or lower my standard of living to take care of someone else’s need–that takes more than admitting that Jesus has some worthy ideas. We actually have to trust him!

That’s what these early believers did. Their shared heart transformed them into people who shared everything else, money and goods included. Such shared hearts still serve as a powerful testimony to the world that watches us today.

John 10:14-15 “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me–just as the Father knows me and I know the Father–and I lay down my life for the sheep.”

Jesus knows his sheep, but not because he read some textbook like The Habits and Handling of Sheep. I assume that my doctor studied anatomy in school. From the moment I first stepped into his examining room, I suppose you could say he knew me like he knew every other patient. He understood the structures and systems that make my body work. But only after he saw me a few times could he say that he knew me, an individual person with individual health conditions. Actually, based on my last visit, he still doesn’t know me very well, if the things from my file he couldn’t remember are any indication.

Jesus knows us like we know our family, only better: “just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.” Though separate persons in their own right, Jesus and his Father are one in a way that defies all human understanding or explanation. If you have seen or known Jesus, then you see and know his Father as well. Jesus is God, and the Father is God, and yet together there is still only one God. That’s more than we can fit inside our little brains. But we can conclude, then, that Jesus knows his Father and his Father knows him unlike any two human beings know each other–whether spouses or siblings or identical twins.

This is also how Jesus knows you and me. He knows the content of our entire lives from one end to the other–even the things still to come. He knows our thoughts and feelings as though they were his very own. He knows our hearts, and he understand the reasons for our inner conflicts and inconsistencies better than we understand them ourselves. He knows every sin, how weak our repentance, how shallow our faith, how easily we fall.

He knows. And still, “I lay down my life for the sheep.” He never regarded saving me, suffering torture and cross for my sins, a waste of his time. It is how he takes care of me. It is how he takes care of all of us. He dies to save us.

This is the Good Shepherd we know. I have been a religious “professional” for over thirty years. I have spent more time intensely studying Jesus than I have spent studying anything else, including my wife or family. There is a vast body of information about him of which I am completely ignorant. I have no clue. Much of what I do know, I don’t understand.

But like the little children I can sing, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” I know he isn’t the cosmic police, radar gun in hand, hiding in a sin-trap, waiting to catch me going over the limit so he can pull me over and write me a ticket. He isn’t heaven’s bill collector, calling me up to harass me because I am late on paying my debt. He isn’t a spiritual trainer, shouting in my ear to push a little harder and work a little longer if I want to see results. He is my Good Shepherd. He is the Good Shepherd. He knows me, yet laid his life down to save me anyway. And that is what makes him so dear.

John 10:11-12 “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand is not the shepherd who owns the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away.”

A good shortstop knows where to position himself on the baseball field. He has quick reflexes and can get to a line-drive or a short hopper between second and third base quickly. A good soul, a good person, lives a kind and caring life. They practice self-control. They watch what they say and help people in need.

Do you see the difference? The shortstop is good because he does what he is supposed to do. He practices the skills that get the job done right. The person is good because he is moral. His heart is not dominated by sin and selfishness. In the first case, “good” refers to skill and function. In the second place it is measure of godliness.

Jesus was certainly good in the second sense. But when he calls himself the “Good Shepherd,” he actually has something more like the shortstop in mind. When he is feeding and protecting his people, he does the job the way it is supposed to be done. This makes him different from so many other people involved in taking care of human souls.

In his own time, there were two flavors of religious leaders among the Jews, the Pharisees and the Sadducees. The Pharisees were more conservative and moral, the Sadducees more liberal and free. The Pharisees had more respect with the people, but the Sadducees had more positions of power and influence.

What they shared was little respect or care for the common people. A little earlier they had criticized the everyday Jewish believer this way: “This mob that knows nothing of the law–there is a curse on them.” Later they revealed that they feared Jesus because too many people were believing in him, “and then the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.” The people, the sheep, were useful so long as it meant respect, prestige, and income for them. But they weren’t going to sacrifice anything for the good of their souls.

Among the shepherds of Christian persuasion today, even our own, there are hired hands who have no sense of responsibility. “So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away.” The “wolf” can take different forms. It might be the peer pressure of a society that has abandoned godly morals and persecutes Christians for clinging to Bible teaching. It might be the rising Christian star whose books and lectures or music are peppered with Biblical terms, but lead people away from the gospel. It might be the so-called scholars who take potshots at Bible teaching and try to make Christians look foolish for believing it. These all have the effect of scattering the flock. They separate the sheep from their faith and from each other.

The hired hand has learned to keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to stick his neck out. Confronting the wolf isn’t comfortable. It may cost him respect in his community, popularity among his own people. So he bites his lip and lets the wolf do his thing.

Sometimes the sheep want it this way. They don’t want a shepherd telling them, “This is right, and this is wrong.” They don’t want someone warning them, “Embracing that teaching, or that lifestyle, could cost you your soul.” To them, a “good shepherd” is one who doesn’t demand very much and lets them do their own thing, even if it might kill them.

That’s not Jesus’ style. He is the “Good Shepherd” precisely because he lays his life down for the sheep. But for all his reputation as Love incarnate, just about every time he turns around in the gospels, he is involved in a religious argument. And he was an equal-opportunity offender. He confronted the Pharisees and Sadducees for the aberrations in their teachings.  He called out the worldliness and materialism of the crowds. “Feed our faces, Jesus. Give us free healthcare. Just don’t ask us for any kind of commitment to you.” No. “Get your priorities straight,” he says. On many occasions he confronted his own disciples because they lusted for power, or they didn’t want to forgive.                                           

All this confrontation built ill-will against Jesus until they killed him for it. But that is not what he means by laying down his life for the sheep, or at least not that alone. Jesus isn’t merely saying he would risk death to help his people, like a soldier or a firefighter. He is saying his death is a fact, a necessity. This is what the Good Shepherd does. He dies for the sheep. He dies in their place. He dies so that they won’t have to. He dies to forgive the very sins he confronts. That is what makes him different, and “good.”

1 John 1:10-2:2 “If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word has no place in our lives. My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense–Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.”

If we deny that we still sin today, we aren’t being honest with ourselves. We are only deceiving ourselves. Living in such self-deception is dangerous to our faith and gets in the way of our spiritual growth.

Regarding our past sins, the apostle John points out what we are saying about God: we are calling him a liar, because he says we have sinned. If we insist on taking this stand–I don’t sin and I haven’t sinned in the past–then we have clear evidence God’s word is not working in our lives.

It’s not that John somehow wants us to keep sinning. “My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin.” He is just trying to get us to be honest. Until we come to grips with the disease, we won’t receive the right medicine.

Here is the medicine, one last time, and in further detail. “But if anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense–Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.” Have you ever dealt with the child who won’t own up to his naughty behavior because he is afraid? All he sees coming if he confesses is the consequences–a spanking, or a tongue lashing, or a grounding, or a time out. A criminal runs from the law for the same reason–fines, prison, or hours of community service are outcomes he hopes to avoid.

But what if we had the confidence that someone had already taken our whipping and did our time? Isn’t that what John says about Jesus here? At the cross, Jesus paid the whole debt. And we don’t need to worry that maybe, somehow, my sin-debt wasn’t included, because there are no exceptions. Everyone and every sin was included. He is the atoning sacrifice “for the sins of the whole world.” Why deny our sins, past or present, when Jesus has removed them?

1 John 1:6-7 “If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”

What does it mean to “walk in the darkness”? John isn’t talking about an occasional dark spot in our moral lives that God’s light will soon clear up. Passing under a shade tree or the shadow of a building isn’t the same thing as walking in the darkness.  A shadow of sin continues to make its presence known and felt in our lives. Martin Luther once compared it to the birds: “You can’t keep the birds from flying over your heads, but you don’t have to let them make a nest in your hair.

If we choose to seal the light out of some part of our lives; if we turn off the switch and let the darkness rule unopposed and uncontested; if we are actively embracing the darkness, then what fellowship can we claim with God? What do we share or have in common? God’s light isn’t compatible with the world’s standards of greed and materialism, sexual license, abusive-vulgar speech, casual disrespect and defiance of authority, unrestrained anger and outrage, or smug self-righteousness, to give just a sample list. Either the light is exposing these things, or it is being extinguished by them. Living in that kind of darkness as a way of life while claiming fellowship with God is living a lie, John says. Careful what you claim.

There is a solution, an alternative, to the false claim. “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.” Walking in the light doesn’t mean we have reached some sort of perfection. That becomes more clear the more John explains this to us. Walking in the light means that we are letting God’s light do its work. It holds everything we say, think, or do up to the brilliant standard of God’s law. It exposes our sin so that we can repent of it. We stop hiding from the truth and start confessing it about ourselves, our lives, and our Lord.

Then we find God’s grace: “…and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.” God’s purpose isn’t to hold our time in the darkness against us. He doesn’t intend to catch us in our lies and prosecute us for them. He wants to lead us to light, and truth, and wash the rest away in Jesus’ blood. He wants the thing we share in fellowship with him to be his love and forgiveness most of all: he giving it, and we receiving it.

Then we can claim fellowship with God, and look forward to even more things he will share with us.

1 John 1:5-6 “This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth.”

I try to eat healthy. And I take a few vitamins and supplements. My bottle of fish oil tablets has a little heart symbol on it with the words, “Promotes a healthy heart.” But there is an asterisk after the word heart. It leads you to a little box on the back of the label that reads, “This statement has not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.”

Disclaimers are everywhere. Practically every invitation to invest your money comes with the reminder, “Past performance is no guarantee of future results.” The gas mileage ratings of your car are “based on EPA estimates. Actual mileage will vary.” An online sweepstakes: “Many will enter, few will win.” A call in radio show hosted by a lawyer: “Contents for entertainment purposes only. Does not constitute legal advice.”

Spiritually, people are tempted to claim more about their faith and morals than reality warrants. This is often due to the sinful assumption we must justify ourselves. If we are going to be accepted by God and others, then we will have to make a case for our own goodness and worth. We fudge our spiritual resumés as we try to promote our case. This is walking in darkness. This is living a lie.

God, we learn, is light. Light makes it possible to see. It makes reality clear. It reveals the truth and exposes what is false. Darkness hides and covers. It deceives the eye. It makes things look different than they really are, if you can see them at all. Look at the way people advertise used cars. Sometimes a seller takes the pictures at night. Even under lights, pictures taken at night tend to make the car look better than it really is. Bad paint and body damage are hard to see between the glare and the shadows. Daylight gives you a much better picture of what is going on.

God doesn’t just live in the light, John says. He IS light. With him nothing is hidden. Nothing can look different than it actually is. He reveals only fact and truth. No field of science can make such a claim. Over time one theory gives way to another. No man-made religion provides such clarity. People tend to refashion God the way they want him to be, not as he actually is, and they do the same things with right and wrong. No political or social movement provides such a beacon of truth. Dark human selfishness infects them all.

This light of God isn’t limited to what he lights up and exposes outside of us. He is more than the spiritual equivalent of headlights on your car making it possible to see the road ahead. When he leads us to know and believe in Jesus as our Savior, his light shines inside of us. This is part of what it means to have fellowship with God. We share this light. It shows our hearts what God is really like, convincing them of both his severe justice and his unconditional, undeserved love. The light may not reach every nook and cranny of our souls at once, but it is constantly driving back the darkness of sin, chasing out the shadows of doubt and skepticism, shining through the shade of biblical and spiritual ignorance.

No spiritual disclaimers are necessary when the light of God’s truth is shining on us, and in us. Our life and words will begin to match up with the light of Jesus’ life and words. John’s words urge us to come out of the darkness and walk in the light of God’s truth.

Acts 18:9-11 “One night the Lord spoke to Paul in a vision: ‘Do not be afraid; keep on speaking, do not be silent. For I am with you, and no one is going to attack and harm you, because I have many people in this city.’ So Paul stayed for a year and half, teaching them the word of God.”

            It was helpful for the apostle to have people like Aquila and Priscilla, new friends he met when he moved to Corinth: Titius Justus and Crispus, new coverts when he began preaching in Corinth; and his old missionary colleagues Silas and Timothy once they arrived. But nothing was more encouraging than Jesus’ own promises to him: A promise of his presence and protection (I am with you, and no one is going to attack and harm you), and a promise of success for his work (I have many people in this city). With assurances like that, what was there left to fear?

            These promises were for that time and place. Later Paul told the elders of the church in Ephesus, “I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardship are facing me” (Acts 20:23). He soldiered on and kept on speaking about God’s grace either way.

            We don’t have special revelations for our work where we live, half-way round the world, two thousand years later. But Jesus hasn’t left us without promises. Remember the how the Great Commission ends? After, “Go and make disciples of all nations,” he promises: “Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” That has never been limited or retracted, and it applies to us no less than eleven men who first heard Jesus say it.

            We still have the promise that goes along with the “Ministry of the Keys.” After giving his disciples the power to offer or withhold forgiveness, “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven,” Jesus promised: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matthew 18:18, 20).

            In other words, Jesus hangs out with the people who are talking about his grace. He goes with those who take the message of sins forgiven and peace with God to others. He is present with those who have gathered to hear about sin and grace among themselves. We have every confidence to keep on speaking, because our Lord is with us and stands behind us whether we are worshiping him or evangelizing our neighbors.

Acts 18:7-8 “Then Paul left the synagogue and went next door to the house of Titius Justus, a worshiper of God. Crispus, the synagogue ruler, and his entire household believed in the Lord; and many of the Corinthians who heard him believed and were baptized.”

Paul didn’t have to search all over the city for a new place to preach and worship. The door God opened up was literally right next door. Titius Justus was one of the new converts to Christian faith. His house could accommodate the little congregation. Now they could worship and learn and grow in peace, without everything Paul said about Jesus having to be a debate. It was better for the fledgling church not to have everything they had come to believe constantly questioned and attacked by people who didn’t want to believe what their own Scriptures were trying to tell them.

Doors were also opened with some of the other new converts who joined Paul’s congregation. As the synagogue ruler, Crispus was something like a combination of senior pastor and church president. He would have known the Bible well. He would have been a man with gifts for leadership and administration. He would have been a man with a mature faith. Now Paul had a place and he had the kind of people around whom he could build a stable ministry. God was opening doors for his work in this city, where Paul would stay and preach longer than any city except for Ephesus.

In my little church’s short history, we have been moved around for different reasons. When things didn’t work out so well at the hotel where we first met, God opened a new door at an event center belonging to a caterer. When that location didn’t suite our needs, he opened a new door for us in a strip mall. God willing, this is just a step to something bigger and more permanent, a place to worship we can call our own.

Several pastors have served my congregation in just over a decade. The first pastor served another congregation and preached only long enough to get things started. He was followed by another man who could serve only part time. Now I am the man God has called to preach and teach in this place, but the day will come when someone else is filling these shoes.

Few things are more certain than change. But when it comes, our Lord invites us not to fear it, not to try to hold on to the past at all cost, but to trust him to open new doors. He wants us to keep spreading his word even more than we do.