I woke up earlier than usual this morning, but I’m having a difficult time getting motivated to begin my day. Has that ever happened to you? Anyway, this morning my devotional time has focused on the short letter of 1 John. This tiny letter packs a powerful punch, but most of all, I love the beginning, where John offers his “why” for writing.
There are many reasons to write a letter (or send an email or text). To celebrate a wedding, anniversary, birthday, or other special occasion. To offer condolences or comfort. To let someone know we’re thinking of them. And, sometimes, to correct, confront, or clarify.
But in the opening of his first letter, John gives us a reason that feels almost startling in its warmth. He writes, “so that our joy may be complete.” (1 John 1:4)
That is a beautiful why.
John is not writing to win an argument or defend a doctrine, although his letter will later include some of those things. But he opens with an expression of joy. But it isn’t just his joy that he wants to share. It’s “our joy.” The joy of community. The joy of shared faith. The joy found in knowing the love of God, revealed to us in the light of Jesus. He writes to remind us that the joy we experience in faith isn’t shallow happiness or circumstantial cheerfulness. It’s complete joy anchored in something concrete:
“That which we have heard… which we have seen with our eyes… which we have looked at and our hands have touched…”
The joy John wants us to share isn’t abstract or fake. It’s real. Revealed. Touched. Seen. Heard. In Jesus Christ, God stepped into history. Joy grows where sin is confessed and forgiveness given, where love is felt and practiced, and where assurance of faith takes root in the heart. Throughout 1 John, faith isn’t meant to burden us. It’s meant to free us.
John knows something we often forget: faith and joy aren’t competitors. They’re companions. Walking in the light leads to a sense of community and belonging. Confession leads to cleansing. Love casts out fear. Assurance gives strength. And in the process, joy becomes complete. We rest in the sure and certain knowledge that we belong to the God who loves us unconditionally.
Perhaps the most pastoral question for today is not, “Do I believe the right things?” but “Is my joy being made complete?” Not a pretended positivity. Not a fake denial of struggle or pain. But a deep sense of resilient joy and completeness rooted in God’s love and Christ’s sacrifice.
That’s a great reason for a letter. And perhaps it’s a great reason for our lives.
Prayer: Lord of Life, draw me again into fellowship with you. Shine your light into the dark and hidden places of my life. Complete in me the joy that comes from walking with you. Amen.
