3 Jn
17 June 2007
“Good Guys and Bad Guys”
When we’re kids, we tend to see life in absolute terms. There are the good guys and the bad guys. People are either pure good or pure evil. It’s rather two dimensional; it’s quite cartoonish. As we get older, we realize that people don’t simply wear white hats or black hats. We see that the hats we wear are shaded in gradations of gray.
To be sure, some are lighter shades, and some are darker shades. And it seems like some folks change hats, depending on which way the wind blows. But life becomes much more three dimensional than it was when we were young. (And if you’re in tune with physics, it can have up to eleven dimensions!)
Last Sunday, when my sermon text was the Second Letter of John, I pointed out how when the elder refers to his opponents as deceivers and antichrists, we don’t hear their side of the story. Again, it’s not that I would agree with them, but we should be honest enough to admit that we don’t get their response.
This week, in the Third Letter of John, the elder praises Gaius and Demetrius, but he castigates Diotrephes. In verse 11, he suggests that he is “evil.” If we were to read 3 John in a quick and superficial manner, we might conclude that we’re getting one of those two dimensional renditions of human behavior.
Certainly, there’s a lot more to it than that. We shouldn’t think that the conflict pictured here is just a question of clashing personalities. Even though 3 John only has one chapter, there’s plenty going on below the surface. There are issues of love, hospitality, and power.
Just as with 2 John, the author doesn’t name himself. He calls himself “the elder,” in Greek, presbutero" (presbuteros). As I said last week, that’s where we get our words “presbyter” and “Presbyterian.” But like last Sunday, for the sake of simplicity, I’ll just call him “John.”
I also said that 2 John, being addressed to “the elect lady,” is directed either to a church or to a woman. If the latter is true, that would make it the only book in the Bible addressed to a female. There’s no doubt that 3 John is intended for an individual: “the beloved Gaius, whom I love in truth” (v. 1).
What has prompted the writing of this letter are a couple of things. First is a desire to thank Gaius for his hospitality. Some missionaries have come to John and told him how well Gaius treated them. That really made his day! “I was overjoyed when some of the friends arrived and testified to your faithfulness to the truth,” John says, “namely how you walk in the truth. I have no greater joy than this, to hear that my children are walking in the truth” (vv. 3-4).
Unfortunately, there’s something else that has compelled John to write the letter. He feels the need to issue Gaius a warning. As I’ve already suggested, he notifies him about Diotrephes. The relationship with Diotrephes has become…let’s call it “difficult,” “problematic.”
John says, “I have written something to the church [some say it’s the letter we call 2 John, others say no]; but Diotrephes, who likes to put himself first, does not acknowledge our authority. So if I come, I will call attention to what he is doing in spreading false charges against us. And not content with those charges, he refuses to welcome the friends, and even prevents those who want to do so and expels them from the church” (vv. 9-10).
All of this should be seen in its context. We have here a glimpse of the early church as it’s moving out of the apostolic era. This is at the end of the 1st century—maybe early 2nd century. Churches are becoming more structured. Offices like “presbyter” and “bishop” are emerging. Some believe that Diotrephes is a bishop. And, not surprisingly, as things get more structured, there are more opportunities for power plays.
It’s very likely that the conflict pictured here isn’t an isolated event. It seems almost inevitable that when a movement—such as the followers of Jesus—enters into second and third generations, its nature begins to change. Questions of authority arise. Who has the right to do what? Questions of identity arise. Who are we? Who are we not?
Though these conflicts may be inevitable, that doesn’t reduce the tension. Some people have pointed out how in verse 9, John gets to the business of naming names. He does not say, “There’s a certain person I’m thinking of.” No way! It’s “Diotrephes, that dirty dog!” (Okay, I embellished a bit.)
This is where it might be helpful to hear Diotrephes’ side of the story. It may or may not be convincing, but at least his voice would be heard.
Actually, this speaks to a problem with our own culture. We have a hard time in listening. We’re slow to listen and quick to speak. We’re slow to listen and quick to judge; we’re quick to put labels on people. It’s difficult for us to pray because we don’t want to listen. We drown our spirits with noise: with mindless chatter, with the television, with the telephone, with the computer, with all kinds of gadgets.
Still, having said that stuff about hearing the other side of the story, I want to take Diotrephes out of his context. I want to use him as a model—a model of someone who doesn’t listen. He doesn’t listen because he’s too busy pushing his own agenda. He’s the one “who likes to put himself first.” He spreads “false charges,” and prevents others from welcoming those he doesn’t like. He’s the bad guy!
Within all of us lurks the spirit of “Diotrephes.” It’s the part of us that wants to “imitate what is evil” and refuse to “imitate what is good” (v. 11). It’s the part of us that hesitates “to support [our brothers and sisters], so that we may become co-workers with the truth” (v. 8).
How do we support each other? Obviously, there are lots of ways: with words of loving encouragement—and with words of loving correction. We support each other with open hearts…and with open wallets. We don’t give to the church to pay the salary of those on staff or to pay the YWCA for the rent. We give because we love God. And only God knows if we make that our top priority.
Oh yes, here’s another way we can support each other: by helping with setting up stuff in the morning and putting it away when worship is over. We’ll need to start doing that next week, going through the end of August.
The spirit of “Diotrephes” is proud and arrogant. The spirit of “Gaius” is faithful and true.
In his article, “Moving from Solitude to Community to Ministry,” Henri Nouwen tells a story that highlights the difference in these two approaches.[1] A friend of his had recently died, and someone sent to him a tape of the service. At the funeral, one of the readings was the following story about a little river.
“The little river said, ‘I can become a big river.’ It worked hard, but there was a big rock. The river said, ‘I’m going to get around this rock.’ The little river pushed and pushed, and since it had a lot of strength, it got itself around the rock.
“Soon the river faced a big wall, and the river kept pushing this wall. Eventually, the river made a canyon and carved a way through. The growing river said, ‘I can do it. I can push it. I am not going to let down for anything.’
“Then there was an enormous forest. The river said, ‘I’ll go ahead anyway and just force these trees down.’ And the river did.
“The river, now powerful, stood on the edge of an enormous desert with the sun beating down. The river said, ‘I’m going to go through this desert.’ But the hot sand soon began to soak up the whole river. The river said, ‘Oh, no. I’m going to do it. I’m going to get myself through this desert.’ But the river soon had drained into the sand until it was only a small mud pool.
“Then the river heard a voice from above: ‘Just surrender. Let me lift you up. Let me take over.’ The river said, ‘Here I am.’ The sun then lifted up the river and made the river into a huge cloud. He carried the river right over the desert and let the cloud rain down and make the fields far away fruitful and rich.
“There is a moment in our life when we stand before the desert and want to do it ourselves. But there is the voice that comes, ‘Let go. Surrender. I will make you fruitful. Yes, trust me. Give yourself to me.’
“What counts in your life and mine are not successes but fruits. The fruits of your life you might not see yourself. [Listen to this.] The fruits of your life are born often in your pain and in your vulnerability and in your losses. [That’s a truth that can be very hard to accept!] The fruits of your life come only after the plow has carved through your land. God wants you to be fruitful.
“The question is not, ‘How much can I still do in the years that are left to me?’ The question is, ‘How can I prepare myself for total surrender so my life can be fruitful?’”
Those are questions that came to Nouwen as he mulled over this story. This was a story told at the funeral of a friend—often a time for considering the ends of things.
There lies in our lives always the choice between the spirit of “Diotrephes,” which is proud and arrogant, and the spirit of “Gaius,” which is faithful and true. Total surrender means learning to trust God, learning how to be faithful. As we do that, just as with Demetrius, the truth itself will bear witness to us.