The Great Divorce: Loving God, Not the World Text: 1 John 2:15-17
Introduction: Two Mutually Exclusive Loves
The Christian life is a life of radical choices, and the apostle John, in his characteristic fashion, leaves us no room for neutrality. He draws a line in the sand with the authority of God Himself, and on one side is the love of the Father, and on the other is the love of the world. There is no middle ground, no negotiated settlement, no demilitarized zone. You cannot have a foot in both camps. Jesus said it plainly: "No one can serve two masters" (Matt. 6:24). You will either love the one and hate the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. John is simply applying this foundational teaching to our affections.
We live in an age of compromise, an era where the church is desperately trying to be "relevant" to the world, which usually means becoming more like the world. We want to be friends with the world. We want the world to like us. We want to baptize the world's music, the world's entertainment, the world's philosophies, and the world's priorities, and then call it Christian. But James calls this what it is: spiritual adultery. "You adulterous people! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God" (James 4:4).
This is not a popular message. It is a hard word. But it is a necessary one, because our affections are the engine of our lives. What you love determines what you live for. And John is telling us that there are two great loves set before us, and they are utterly incompatible. They are moving in opposite directions. One leads to eternal life, and the other is on a collision course with oblivion.
Before we dive in, we must be precise about what John means by "the world." He is not talking about the created order. God made the physical world, the mountains and seas and stars, and He declared it "very good" (Gen. 1:31). We are to be stewards of this creation, to enjoy its beauty, and to use its resources for God's glory. Nor is he talking about the people in the world, in the sense that we are to hate them. On the contrary, God so loved the world, the world of lost humanity, that He gave His only Son (John 3:16). We are commanded to love our neighbors and to seek the salvation of the lost.
The "world" (kosmos) that John commands us not to love is the fallen human system, the organized rebellion against God, orchestrated by the prince of the power of the air (Eph. 2:2). It is a mindset, a value system, a set of priorities and desires that are arrayed in opposition to the Father. It is civilization apart from God. It is humanity with its back turned to its Creator, trying to build a tower to its own glory. This is the world we are commanded to divorce ourselves from. And in this passage, John gives us the command, the reason for the command, and the ultimate destiny of these two opposing loves.
The Text
Do not love the world nor the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.
For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world.
And the world is passing away, and also its lusts, but the one who does the will of God abides forever.
(1 John 2:15-17 LSB)
The Unmistakable Command (v. 15)
John begins with a direct, unambiguous prohibition.
"Do not love the world nor the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him." (1 John 2:15)
This is a present imperative, meaning it's a command to stop an action already in progress or to not even start it. "Stop loving the world." This implies that the temptation to love the world is a constant pressure for the believer. We are fish swimming in a salty sea; the danger is not that we are in the sea, but that the sea might get into us. We are in the world, but we are not to be of the world (John 17:15-16).
The apostle then presents the issue as a simple, diagnostic test. It is a matter of spiritual physics: two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. The love of the Father and the love of the world are mutually exclusive. If one is present, the other is necessarily absent. This is not about degrees of affection, as though you could love the Father 90% and the world 10%. John presents it as an either/or. The presence of a settled, characteristic love for the world is proof positive that the love of the Father is not in that person's heart.
This should cause us to stop and examine ourselves. Where are our affections? What do we daydream about? What do we get excited about? What do we spend our time, money, and energy pursuing? Our loves are not secret; they are revealed by our lives. If our central passion is for the things of the world, for its approval, its comforts, its status, and its pleasures, then John's diagnosis is stark and severe. The love of the Father is not in us.
The Anatomy of Worldliness (v. 16)
In verse 16, John provides a comprehensive breakdown of what constitutes this "love of the world." He gives us a three-part anatomy of worldliness.
"For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world." (1 John 2:16)
This is an exhaustive list. Everything that the world system offers as a substitute for God falls into one of these three categories. This is the unholy trinity of rebellion. And it's not a new strategy. This is the same three-pronged attack that the serpent used on Eve in the garden. Genesis 3:6 tells us that Eve saw that the tree was "good for food" (lust of the flesh), that it was a "delight to the eyes" (lust of the eyes), and that it was "desirable to make one wise" (the boastful pride of life). This is the same template Satan used to tempt the Lord Jesus in the wilderness: turn stones to bread (lust of the flesh), see all the kingdoms of the world (lust of the eyes), and cast Yourself down to prove Your identity (the boastful pride of life). Eve fell; Christ stood. We are called to stand with Him.
First, there is the "lust of the flesh." This refers to the gratification of our fallen, sensual appetites. It is the desire to feel good, to indulge our bodily cravings in ways that are outside the boundaries God has established. This includes sexual immorality, gluttony, drunkenness, and laziness. It is the philosophy of "if it feels good, do it." It reduces man to the level of an animal, driven by instinct and appetite rather than by the law of God.
Second is the "lust of the eyes." This is the desire to have. It is the grasping, covetous spirit that is fueled by what we see. We see the neighbor's new car, the latest gadget in the commercial, the lifestyle of the rich and famous, and we want it. This is the engine of materialism and consumerism. It is the insatiable desire for more stuff, better stuff, newer stuff, believing that our satisfaction and identity can be found in our possessions. It is a bottomless pit, for as Solomon said, "He who loves money will not be satisfied with money" (Eccl. 5:10).
Third, there is the "boastful pride of life." This is the desire to be somebody. It is the arrogant ambition for status, reputation, power, and praise. The Greek word here, alazoneia, refers to an empty, pretentious boasting. It is the strutting peacock, the self-important man who derives his sense of worth from his accomplishments, his position, or the approval of others. It is the obsession with self. This is the root sin, the sin of Satan, who said, "I will make myself like the Most High" (Isa. 14:14).
John's conclusion is critical: this entire package deal "is not from the Father, but is from the world." These desires do not originate with God. They are the native language of the fallen world system. They are the air that unregenerate man breathes. The Father offers something entirely different: satisfaction in Him, contentment with His provision, and a humble identity found in being His child.
The Two Destinies (v. 17)
Finally, John contrasts the ultimate fate of the world with the eternal security of the believer. He urges us to make our choice based on what is permanent versus what is fleeting.
"And the world is passing away, and also its lusts, but the one who does the will of God abides forever." (1 John 2:17)
The world system, with all its glitter, all its promises, and all its power, has an expiration date. It is "passing away." The verb is in the present tense, indicating that it is a process that is already underway. The whole thing is unraveling. It is a sinking ship. All of its treasures, all of its fashions, all of its celebrities, all of its empires are temporary. They are like a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes. To invest your love and your life in the world is to tie yourself to a corpse. It is to arrange deck chairs on the Titanic.
Not only is the world passing away, but so are its "lusts." The desires themselves are temporary. The thrill fades. The pleasure diminishes. The high wears off. The things the world offers can never deliver lasting satisfaction, because they were never designed to. They are broken cisterns that can hold no water. To love the world is to sign up for a life of perpetual, nagging disappointment, followed by an eternity of loss.
But there is another way. "The one who does the will of God abides forever." In stark contrast to the transient nature of the world, the believer has permanence. The one who has turned from loving the world to loving the Father, demonstrated by a life of obedience to His will, is eternally secure. To "abide" means to remain, to endure, to live on. While the world and its lovers are swept away in the judgment, the child of God stands firm, anchored to the rock of God's eternal purpose.
Notice the connection. The one who abides is the one who "does the will of God." This is not salvation by works. Rather, doing the will of God is the evidence of a heart that loves the Father. Jesus said, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments" (John 14:15). A life of obedience flows from a heart of love, and a heart of love is the result of the new birth. The will of God is not a burdensome list of rules; it is the joyful expression of our love for the One who first loved us.
Conclusion: Where Is Your Love?
So the choice is laid before us with blinding clarity. You can love the world, which is a package deal of fleeting lusts and arrogant pride, all of which is sourced in rebellion against God and is destined for destruction. Or you can love the Father, which results in a life of glad obedience and an inheritance that is eternal, imperishable, and unfading.
You cannot have both. You cannot hedge your bets. The call of the gospel is a call to a great divorce. It is a call to break up with the world. This is not a call to withdraw into a monastery, but to live in the world with a different set of loves. It is to use the things of the world without loving them. It is to engage with the people of the world without adopting their values.
This is only possible by the grace of God. Our hearts are natural idol factories, and our default setting is to love the world. The only way to break the power of this illicit love is to be overwhelmed by a greater one. It is, as Chalmers said, by "the expulsive power of a new affection." When the love of the Father, demonstrated at the cross of Jesus Christ, truly captures our hearts, the cheap trinkets of the world begin to lose their luster. When we see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, the glory of the world is exposed for the tawdry sham that it is.
Therefore, let us ask God to search our hearts. Let us repent of our spiritual adultery, our flirtations with the world. And let us pray that He would so fill our hearts with love for Him that there is simply no room left for anything else. For the world is passing away, but the one who does the will of God abides forever.