Holy Wit – Reflections
#1 Walking in the Light: Studies Through 1 John
Scripture References: 1 John 1:1–4
There is something deeply reassuring about old men who keep repeating themselves.
When you are young, you tend to think repetition is a sign that someone has run out of material. But after enough years on earth, you begin to realize repetition is usually connected to love.
Grandparents repeat things because they desperately want the grandchildren to remember them after they are gone.
Fathers repeat things because sons possess an almost supernatural ability to forget obvious truths.
Pastors repeat things because sheep wander. Constantly. Sheep can wander from one side of a field to another while still technically standing in the same field. Human beings can wander while sitting perfectly still in church.
And John—the old apostle writing near the end of his life—repeats himself because he has spent decades watching Christians drift into confusion.
So he begins not with abstract theology but with memory.
“That which we have heard…”
“That which we have seen…”
“That which our hands have handled…”
One gets the sense John is almost leaning over the table while writing this. Not irritated exactly. But firm in the way older saints become firm after burying enough illusions.
“No,” he says in essence. “This was real. We were there.”
Christianity did not begin as a philosophy discussion among men in robes drinking strong coffee and debating the meaning of existence. It began with fishermen staring at a man calming storms.
It began with exhausted disciples watching Christ sleep through weather that convinced seasoned sailors they were all about to die.
It began with dirty feet, crowded roads, exhausted evenings, empty tombs, and breakfast beside a shoreline after the resurrection.
John had touched the risen Christ. That leaves a mark on a man.
And perhaps that is part of why modern people sometimes struggle with Christianity. We prefer spirituality that remains comfortably vague. Vague spirituality asks very little of us. It drifts pleasantly around the room like scented candle smoke.
But the gospel refuses vagueness.
John insists on reality.
He insists Christ entered history. He insists eternal life wore skin. He insists God became visible.
Which means Christianity is not mainly about mankind searching for God. It is about God revealing Himself to mankind.
That changes everything.
It means truth is not something we invent but something we receive.
It means fellowship is not built merely upon shared hobbies, political alignment, or mutual appreciation for church potlucks featuring casseroles whose ingredients remain known only unto the Lord.
Real Christian fellowship begins with shared union in Christ.
And then John says something remarkable.
“These things we write to you that your joy may be full.”
Joy.
Not escapism. Not denial. Not pretending life is easier than it is.
John writes those words in a world filled with persecution, false teachers, suffering, and death. Yet he still speaks confidently about joy because Christian joy is rooted somewhere deeper than circumstances.
The world tends to offer two alternatives when reality becomes painful.
One is denial.
The other is despair.
John offers neither.
Instead, he points believers toward Christ—the One heard, seen, touched, crucified, risen, and proclaimed.
Joy, according to John, is found not by escaping reality but by finally understanding it correctly.
R.C. Sproul often emphasized that Christianity is grounded in objective truth outside ourselves. John says much the same thing here. The apostles were not selling inspiration. They were bearing witness.
The faith rests upon revelation, not religious creativity.
And there is comfort in that.
Because if Christianity depended upon human cleverness, it would collapse every Tuesday afternoon by approximately 2:15.
Human beings are simply not stable enough creatures to build eternal hope upon themselves.
But Christ remains stable.
The same Christ John heard.
The same Christ John saw.
The same Christ John touched.
The same Christ still proclaimed today.
And that, John says, is where fullness of joy begins.
#HolyWitBibleStudy #GordonMcGinnis #WalkingInTheLight #1John
#1 Walking in the Light: Studies Through 1 John
Scripture References: 1 John 1:1–4
There is something deeply reassuring about old men who keep repeating themselves.
When you are young, you tend to think repetition is a sign that someone has run out of material. But after enough years on earth, you begin to realize repetition is usually connected to love.
Grandparents repeat things because they desperately want the grandchildren to remember them after they are gone.
Fathers repeat things because sons possess an almost supernatural ability to forget obvious truths.
Pastors repeat things because sheep wander. Constantly. Sheep can wander from one side of a field to another while still technically standing in the same field. Human beings can wander while sitting perfectly still in church.
And John—the old apostle writing near the end of his life—repeats himself because he has spent decades watching Christians drift into confusion.
So he begins not with abstract theology but with memory.
“That which we have heard…”
“That which we have seen…”
“That which our hands have handled…”
One gets the sense John is almost leaning over the table while writing this. Not irritated exactly. But firm in the way older saints become firm after burying enough illusions.
“No,” he says in essence. “This was real. We were there.”
Christianity did not begin as a philosophy discussion among men in robes drinking strong coffee and debating the meaning of existence. It began with fishermen staring at a man calming storms.
It began with exhausted disciples watching Christ sleep through weather that convinced seasoned sailors they were all about to die.
It began with dirty feet, crowded roads, exhausted evenings, empty tombs, and breakfast beside a shoreline after the resurrection.
John had touched the risen Christ. That leaves a mark on a man.
And perhaps that is part of why modern people sometimes struggle with Christianity. We prefer spirituality that remains comfortably vague. Vague spirituality asks very little of us. It drifts pleasantly around the room like scented candle smoke.
But the gospel refuses vagueness.
John insists on reality.
He insists Christ entered history. He insists eternal life wore skin. He insists God became visible.
Which means Christianity is not mainly about mankind searching for God. It is about God revealing Himself to mankind.
That changes everything.
It means truth is not something we invent but something we receive.
It means fellowship is not built merely upon shared hobbies, political alignment, or mutual appreciation for church potlucks featuring casseroles whose ingredients remain known only unto the Lord.
Real Christian fellowship begins with shared union in Christ.
And then John says something remarkable.
“These things we write to you that your joy may be full.”
Joy.
Not escapism. Not denial. Not pretending life is easier than it is.
John writes those words in a world filled with persecution, false teachers, suffering, and death. Yet he still speaks confidently about joy because Christian joy is rooted somewhere deeper than circumstances.
The world tends to offer two alternatives when reality becomes painful.
One is denial.
The other is despair.
John offers neither.
Instead, he points believers toward Christ—the One heard, seen, touched, crucified, risen, and proclaimed.
Joy, according to John, is found not by escaping reality but by finally understanding it correctly.
R.C. Sproul often emphasized that Christianity is grounded in objective truth outside ourselves. John says much the same thing here. The apostles were not selling inspiration. They were bearing witness.
The faith rests upon revelation, not religious creativity.
And there is comfort in that.
Because if Christianity depended upon human cleverness, it would collapse every Tuesday afternoon by approximately 2:15.
Human beings are simply not stable enough creatures to build eternal hope upon themselves.
But Christ remains stable.
The same Christ John heard.
The same Christ John saw.
The same Christ John touched.
The same Christ still proclaimed today.
And that, John says, is where fullness of joy begins.
#HolyWitBibleStudy #GordonMcGinnis #WalkingInTheLight #1John
Holy Wit – Reflections
#1 Walking in the Light: Studies Through 1 John
Scripture References: 1 John 1:1–4
There is something deeply reassuring about old men who keep repeating themselves.
When you are young, you tend to think repetition is a sign that someone has run out of material. But after enough years on earth, you begin to realize repetition is usually connected to love.
Grandparents repeat things because they desperately want the grandchildren to remember them after they are gone.
Fathers repeat things because sons possess an almost supernatural ability to forget obvious truths.
Pastors repeat things because sheep wander. Constantly. Sheep can wander from one side of a field to another while still technically standing in the same field. Human beings can wander while sitting perfectly still in church.
And John—the old apostle writing near the end of his life—repeats himself because he has spent decades watching Christians drift into confusion.
So he begins not with abstract theology but with memory.
“That which we have heard…”
“That which we have seen…”
“That which our hands have handled…”
One gets the sense John is almost leaning over the table while writing this. Not irritated exactly. But firm in the way older saints become firm after burying enough illusions.
“No,” he says in essence. “This was real. We were there.”
Christianity did not begin as a philosophy discussion among men in robes drinking strong coffee and debating the meaning of existence. It began with fishermen staring at a man calming storms.
It began with exhausted disciples watching Christ sleep through weather that convinced seasoned sailors they were all about to die.
It began with dirty feet, crowded roads, exhausted evenings, empty tombs, and breakfast beside a shoreline after the resurrection.
John had touched the risen Christ. That leaves a mark on a man.
And perhaps that is part of why modern people sometimes struggle with Christianity. We prefer spirituality that remains comfortably vague. Vague spirituality asks very little of us. It drifts pleasantly around the room like scented candle smoke.
But the gospel refuses vagueness.
John insists on reality.
He insists Christ entered history. He insists eternal life wore skin. He insists God became visible.
Which means Christianity is not mainly about mankind searching for God. It is about God revealing Himself to mankind.
That changes everything.
It means truth is not something we invent but something we receive.
It means fellowship is not built merely upon shared hobbies, political alignment, or mutual appreciation for church potlucks featuring casseroles whose ingredients remain known only unto the Lord.
Real Christian fellowship begins with shared union in Christ.
And then John says something remarkable.
“These things we write to you that your joy may be full.”
Joy.
Not escapism. Not denial. Not pretending life is easier than it is.
John writes those words in a world filled with persecution, false teachers, suffering, and death. Yet he still speaks confidently about joy because Christian joy is rooted somewhere deeper than circumstances.
The world tends to offer two alternatives when reality becomes painful.
One is denial.
The other is despair.
John offers neither.
Instead, he points believers toward Christ—the One heard, seen, touched, crucified, risen, and proclaimed.
Joy, according to John, is found not by escaping reality but by finally understanding it correctly.
R.C. Sproul often emphasized that Christianity is grounded in objective truth outside ourselves. John says much the same thing here. The apostles were not selling inspiration. They were bearing witness.
The faith rests upon revelation, not religious creativity.
And there is comfort in that.
Because if Christianity depended upon human cleverness, it would collapse every Tuesday afternoon by approximately 2:15.
Human beings are simply not stable enough creatures to build eternal hope upon themselves.
But Christ remains stable.
The same Christ John heard.
The same Christ John saw.
The same Christ John touched.
The same Christ still proclaimed today.
And that, John says, is where fullness of joy begins.
#HolyWitBibleStudy #GordonMcGinnis #WalkingInTheLight #1John
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