Walking in Love and Light

“Brethren, I write no new commandment unto you, but an old commandment which ye had from the beginning…” — I John 2:7

There is nothing particularly new about love. It is, as John says, an old commandment—one heard from the beginning. Jesus identified the call to love God and neighbor as the very core of the law and the prophets.

John closely correlates walking in love with walking in light. God is light. God is love. If we walk in one, we walk in the other.

Knowledge without love becomes cold, harsh, and lifeless—something less than truth. Love without truth lacks substance, backbone, and reality. The two cannot be separated.

The person who speaks truth must do so in love. The person who truly loves must not speak falsely or deceive.

That is why enabling behavior is not loving. It is not love to coddle destructive patterns, nor is it love to abandon people entirely. Love and light together bring balance, clarity, and integrity to our lives.

We love because it is the clear and deliberate command of God. Love is not merely an emotion, nor is it beyond our control. It is a choice—one empowered by God Himself, who supplies the capacity to follow through.

We also love because, in the marvelous logic of God (logos), love is the only way of life that ultimately makes sense. It silences detractors, unsettles cynics, disarms enemies, and warms lonely hearts. Love is the greatest spiritual force in God’s universe.

If we walk in love, we walk in light. If we walk in light, we learn to love. God is the source—He provides the power and leads us along the path.

There is nothing novel here. It is not complicated. But it is foundational. It is the prerequisite for every other course of life.

Learn to love. Practice what you have learned. Begin now.


Our Father from the Beginning

“I write unto you, fathers, because ye have known him that is from the beginning.” — I John 2:13a

In his first epistle, the aged apostle John writes words of encouragement to children, young men, and fathers. To the fathers, he repeats himself—word for word—because they have known Him who is from the beginning.

This is not redundancy; it is emphasis. It is identity.

Within every mature believer is a layered story:
a child whose sins have been forgiven,
a young person who has struggled and overcome,
and a father or mother who has come to know God over time.

John, as an elder and spiritual father, speaks into all three dimensions. He affirms who they are, even as he prepares them for what they will face.

He warns them not to become attached to the world. He calls them to resist what opposes Christ and what imitates Him falsely. He urges them to remain rooted in the love of God and to express that love toward one another.

This is a father’s letter—written with clarity, concern, and confidence. He sees in them both present reality and future potential.

It is as if he is saying:
“You have not fully arrived, but this is who you are in Christ. You are overcomers—therefore, overcome.”

And to the fathers:
“You have known Him for a long time. Now help them. Remind them. Encourage them.”

Every younger person needs someone older to believe in them. And in truth, we never outgrow that need. We all need spiritual fathers and mothers—people who call us forward into what we can become in Christ.

Fathers carry a unique and indispensable role. At their best, they do not merely instruct; they embody a long obedience, a tested faith, and a steady knowledge of God.

The best school of fatherhood is not technique or theory. It is the ongoing, deepening knowledge of God Himself—the One who believes in us, forms us, and calls us to overcome.


First Love

“Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world…” — I John 2:15–16
“Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love.” — Revelation 2:4

First love is meant to remain clear and focused, even when our lives become cluttered and distracted.

We are easily drawn toward novelty—toward new experiences, new desires, new pursuits. But what we need is not a wider life as much as a deeper one.

Loving the world—its values, its cravings, its fleeting promises—can feel expansive. But it is a false expansion. It substitutes breadth for depth and leaves the soul unsatisfied.

John calls us back. Not backward, but inward—to the freshness and clarity of our first love in Christ.

We may grow deeper in love, but we never grow beyond it.

To leave our first love is not always to reject Christ outright. More often, it is to become preoccupied—to allow other loves to crowd in and quietly displace what once held center place.

The call is simple and searching: return.

Return to the purity of devotion.
Return to the clarity of affection.
Return to the One who first loved us.


Prayer

Lord Jesus,
may Your love flow through me today—and back to You.

I am not capable of loving You as You deserve,
but Your love within me is sufficient.

Let it draw me closer.
Let it shape my life.
Let it remain my first love.

tomsims Avatar

Published by

Leave a comment