After Napoleon’s devastating loss at the battle of Waterloo, the
diminutive field marshal was exiled to the lonely island of St. Helena. In an
ironic turn of fate, his kingdom, which at its height extended across Europe
enfolding Germany, Austria, Italy, and France, was now reduced to a tiny
outcrop in the Atlantic. There in his solitude and the ignominy of defeat,
Napoleon turned his mind from the battlefield to spiritual matters. In his
memoirs he wrote these powerful words about the kingdom of Christ, “Alexander,
Caesar, Charlemagne, and myself founded empires; but what foundation did we
rest the creations of our genius? Upon force. Jesus alone founded his empire
upon love; and at this hour millions of men would die for Him.”[1]
That story reminds me of what the apostle John in his first
epistle, “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought
to lay down our lives for the brothers” (1 John 3:16). Notice that the apostle
focuses on three aspects of Christ’s perfect agape love.
First, John noted the voluntary
nature of Christ’s love. Notice the words of 3:16, “By this we know love,
that he laid down his life . . .” True
love does not have to be coerced. Jesus willingly gave up his rightful place in
heaven beside the Father to assume the role of a servant so that He might
suffer and die in the most horrific way (Phil 2:5–8). Like the songwriter has
sung many times, “It wasn’t the nails that held Jesus to the tree, it was His
great love for you and me.” At any moment he could have called down legions of
angels to end His suffering, yet He relinquished His divine power (Matt.
26:53). Jesus literally loved us to death. While His death on the cross looked
like a tremendous tragedy, Christ had everything under control because He was a
willing victim.
“. . . just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to
serve, and to give His life a ransom for
many” (Matt. 20:28).
“I am the good shepherd. The
good shepherd gives His life for the sheep . . . As the Father knows Me,
even so I know the Father; and I lay down
My life for the sheep” (John 10:11–15).
“For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from
me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I
have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my
Father” (John 10:17–18).
“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John
15:13).
Second, John noted the vulnerable
nature of Christ’s love. Christ did not withhold anything from humanity
when He came to earth. He was made vulnerable to persecution, rejection, the
cruel elements, false accusation, sadness, and even death. In loving the world
Christ paid the ultimate price by making Himself vulnerable to unrequited love.
But real love does not count the cost. Love takes wild risks at the expense of
the lover and for the benefit of the beloved. C.S. Lewis has written:
To love at all is to be
vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If
you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even
an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all
entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But
in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be
broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable . . . the only
place outside heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of
love is Hell.[2]
Thirdly, John noted the vicarious
nature of Christ’s love. At the end of 3:16 the text reads, “. . . He laid
down His life for us.” Paul says in
Romans 5:8, “But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners,
Christ died for us.” At the cross of
Calvary Jesus took our place. The hell that we deserved, Jesus experienced as
our substitute. An eternity of suffering was compressed into six hours one
Friday afternoon.
There
is a true story of a little boy whose sister needed a blood transfusion. The
doctor explained that she had the same disease the boy had recovered from two
years earlier. Her only chance of recovery was a transfusion from someone who
had previously conquered the disease. Since the two children had the same rare
blood type, the boy was an ideal donor.
“Would
you give your blood to Mary?” the doctor asked. Johnny hesitated. His lower lip
started to tremble. Then he smiled and said, “Sure, for my sister.” Soon the
two children were wheeled into the hospital room. Mary was pale and thin. Johnny
was robust and healthy. Neither spoke, but when their eyes met, Johnny
grinned.
As
the nurse inserted the needle into his arm, Johnny’s smile faded. He watched
the crimson liquid flow through the tube. With the ordeal almost over, Johnny’s
voice slightly shaky, broke the silence. “Doctor, when do I die?” the boy
asked. Only then did the doctor realize why Johnny hesitated, why his lip
trembled when he agreed to donate his blood. He thought giving his blood to his
sister would mean giving up his life. In that brief moment, he made his
decision to be like Jesus.[3]
[1] William Jospeh Federer, America’s God and Country: Encyclopedia of
Quotations (St. Louis: MO: Amerisearch, 1994), 463.
[2]C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves (New York: Harcourt Brace and Company, 1988), 121.
[3] Alice Gray, Stories for the Heart: The Original Collection (Sisters, OR:
Multnomah, 2001), 131-132.
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