John was an old man by the time he wrote his first epistle. Somewhere between thirty and sixty years have passed since the Resurrection. As a younger man he had the privilege of walking daily with Jesus during His three years of public ministry. He had heard the great sermons, seen the spectacular miracles, and witnessed first hand his dealings with both friend and foe. He even had been a part of the inner circle along with Peter and James. He had seen his hopes crushed as he watched Jesus die. He had known the incomparable thrill of realizing Jesus had risen from the dead. He had been there at Pentecost. He had watched the Church grow and spread during its early decades. He had led and taught congregations for decades. He knew first hand the power of the gospel. John had been through it all.

For all this, when John begins to write about the love of God, he still can hardly contain himself. The truth has not become stale for him. It still is alive. It still is a cause of wonder and amazement for him. “The holy apostle is here in a transport,” says the Puritan commentator Matthew Poole (1624–1679), “in the contemplation of the glorious . . . privilege, to be called his sons.”1 “See,” he says, using the aorist imperative. “Look,” or perhaps the Elizabethan English is still the best: “Behold” (KJV). Then he uses a word (potapos) which originally meant “from what country?” and is used of something that is foreign, or unusual, or inexplicable. For example, after Jesus quieted the storm the people said, “What kind (potapos) of man is this?” (Mt 8:27). The disciples, when they pointed to the massive stones used in building Herod’s temple (40’ by 10’ by 12’) and the massive buildings themselves, said, “Behold what wonderful (potapos) stones and what wonderful buildings” (Mk 13:1). “How great,” (NASV, NIV), “what kind” (ESV), “what manner” (KJV), it has been translated. It indicates a thing of a different order, or different kind. It is “out of this world.”2 What is it about God’s love, which He has “bestowed,” or “given” (ESV), or even “lavished on us” (NIV), that calls for this exuberance? He continues,

See how great a love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called children of God; and such we are. (1 Jn 3:1a)

The highest expression of God’s love, as John sees it, is the love which results in our adoption. The fact that, in Christ, God is our Father, and we are His adopted children, thrills his soul. “The wonder of it all grips John,” Morris observes.3 Such a love is amazing, incredible. Not only are we “called children of God,” but “such we are.” We have not just the name, but the reality. Adoption so dominates his concept of the Christian life that he will not let go of the thought until 5:13. As the theme, “God is light,” and our responsibility to “walk in the light,” has dominated the first two chapters, so the theme “God is our Father,” and our responsibility to act as His children, shall dominate the last three.4

What does he want us to know initially about our adoption? First, that we are His children, though unworthy; second, that we are His children, though unrecognized by the world; third, that we are His children though awaiting completion.

Unworthy

Why is John so excited about being a child of God? Because he realizes that this is not something that “he had coming.” The modern world encourages a sense of entitlement. Consider it a legacy of the nanny state. We are entitled to an education, housing, a retirement fund, health care, and fun and happiness, even at the expense of others. This outlook can spill over into our relationship with God. We are entitled to God’s love and familial favor, we think. This is why we need to back up a little first. Are we all loved by God? This is universally assumed today. Are we all children of God? Again, this is assumed as a virtual entitlement. The Apostle John, however, knew that neither is the case. We are not God’s children by birth, even if modern people assume we are. We are born alienated from God and separated from Him (Rom 1:18–3:23). Jesus said we are haters of light and lovers of darkness (Jn 3:19,20). The Apostle Paul says we are haters of God and are His enemies (Rom 1:30; 5:8-10). We’re not even friends, never mind family. We are the objects of His wrath, not His love. When we are saved, it is as rebels that we are saved (Eph 2:12; 4:17-19). When we trust Christ and receive Him as Savior and Lord, we receive the forgiveness of our sins (1 Jn 1:7–2:2). We are “justified” by faith (Rom 5:1). The Judge declares us to be “not guilty.” We are reconciled to God, restored to right relationship to Him (Rom 5:10,11; 2 Cor 5:18-21). This is a wonderful truth, and it magnifies the love of God. Well might we say, “Behold what manner of love!”

However, John is saying that God has done much more than this. He does not keep us merely in a judicial relationship to Himself. Rather, it is as though the Judge who has justified us, then signs adoption papers and takes us home to be His children. We who were orphans at best, and children of the devil at least, rebels against, despisers of, hateful toward the Judge, are forgiven, and not just forgiven, but made His children, with all the rights and privileges that a natural born child has. Those who are “by nature,” that is, by both birth and inclination “children of wrath” have been made children of God (Eph 2:3). This is why John Cotton can speak of “our amazing unworthiness of such a favor.”5 Perhaps the best commentary on 1 John 3:1 is found in John 1:12-13. Though we are unworthy, we have become children of God by faith. The Apostle John writes,

But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name, who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. (Jn 1:12, 13)

We “received” Him, which means we “believe in His name.” On this basis we were made God’s children. The “right” of sonship is given to those who believe. Sonship is not inherent to our humanity, but a gift of redemption. We didn’t do anything to merit our sonship. We didn’t earn it by good behavior. We didn’t deserve it. We received it as a gift of God as we received Christ (Eph 2:8,9). Who are the children of God? Those who believe.6 What did we deserve? Death. “The wage of sin is death” (Rom 6:23). That’s what we had coming. That was our “wage.” That’s what we had earned. “But the free gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Adoptions typically occur in trying circumstances. A child is scheduled to be born into a situation where its care will be difficult. The child’s future is at risk. Another family, able to provide adequate care, offers to rear the child as its own. Human adoption provides a beautiful picture of the sovereign grace of God, who reaches down, like the adoptive parents, and plucks the child out of trouble and plants him into the Christian family, the family of God. This is what God has done for us. He has “bestowed” His love. The initiative was His. Love is behind the incarnation. Love is behind the atonement. “God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life” (Jn 3:16). This is what astonishes John. He is overcome by the sovereign, lavish, undeserved love of God.

What does the adoption involve? What does it mean for us?

First, it means we now have the rights and privileges of God’s children. No longer slaves, we are sons and heirs (Gal 4:6,7; cf. 3:26), with all the rights and privileges of such. The Apostle Paul writes that we have been given “the Spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, ‘Abba! Father!’” Rom 8:15). He continues,

The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him in order that we may also be glorified with Him. (Rom 8;16,17)

Because we are “children of God,” we are also “fellow heirs with Christ.” “Here,” says Ian Hamilton,” we are surely taken out of our depth.”7 Of what is Christ heir? He is heir of all things. Everything is His. The family inheritance includes all that there is. The meek will inherit the earth (Mt 5:5). We get a filial share. This is what awaits us. Here and now it means that we can be certain of God’s fatherly love and care, His protection and provision.

I was ordained in 1983. For five years I waited anticipating the day I would be able to speak from personal experience about a father’s love. September 23, 1988 our firstborn arrived. Having experienced fatherhood five times over, I can tell you, it is an awesome thing to be told that God is my Father. A father would starve rather than see his children go without food. A father would be mutilated rather than see his children injured. We want the best for our children. We want to protect them, provide for them, hug and kiss and pour out our affection on them. I remember as a young boy storming off to my room complaining that my dad didn’t love me. My mother followed fast on my heels and rebuked me, and reminded me of how he had driven all over Southern California to find just the baseball glove that I had wanted. “He would do anything for you,” she said. I was chastened. She gave me a perspective I had not understood. A father wants the best for his children. Though we are fallen and weak, still we want such for them. What then of the perfect Fatherhood of God? Jesus asked just this,

If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him! (Mt 7:11)

Our sonship gives us a whole new outlook on life. When I pray, I pray to my loving Father who knows how to give good gifts. Why do I obey? Not out of fear, or to manipulate, but to please my Father (Mt 6:1ff). How do I view adversity? As my Father’s loving discipline, inflicted for my good (Heb 12:5-13). Whatever happens in life I know happens by the hand of my loving Father – not the Judge, not my Enemy, and certainly not the “Ground of My Being.” No, it is by the will of my Father, who loves me with fatherly love, who ordains “whatsoever comes to pass” (see Rom 8:28 and Shorter Catechism Q #9). He has my best interests at heart. He will not fail to protect and provide and care for me. What a difference this makes in one’s view of circumstances! What peace and contentment it makes possible!

Second, it means we have been given the nature of God’s children. Here is where human adoption differs with divine. Human adoptive children have the nature of their physical parents, but God’s adoption transforms us. While we are not God’s children by birth, we do become His children by rebirth. What seems to have kicked off this discussion of adoption was the phrase from the preceding verse, where the Apostle John says we are “born of Him” (2:29). Being a Christian is no mere intellectual exercise. One does not affirm a creed merely to join an organization. There is a supernatural dimension. A transformation takes place. We are, said Jesus, “born again” or “born of the Spirit” (Jn 3:1ff). The Apostle John said in his gospel,

But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name, (Jn 1:12)

Then he connects adoption to rebirth:

who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. (Jn 1:13)

We are “born of God” in Jesus Christ. God’s seed is planted in our souls. This means we are given a new nature, God’s holy nature is implanted. We are new people, with new life (Rom 6:4). We become a new creation in Christ Jesus, the old things pass away and all things become new (2 Cor 5:17). New behavior flows from our new nature. The Apostle John says,

No one who is born of God practices sin, because His seed abides in him; and he cannot sin, because he is born of God. (1 Jn 3:9)

Those “born of God” have a new nature, one adverse to sin. So we do not “practice sin.” Indeed, we “cannot sin” habitually. Why? Because we are “born of God.” More and more we shall be conformed to the family likeness. We increasingly shall come to look like (in character) our Father. In Christ we are liberated from bondage to sin and freed to live a life of holiness and selfless love.

Should this not touch our souls and move our hearts?

John said those who have “received Him” have been given the “right” of sonship (Jn 1:12). Though we were selfish, sinful and rebellious; though we were dead in our trespasses and sins; though we with all the rest were enemies of God, hostile and indifferent; yet He saved us from our sins. Not only that, He made us sons and daughters, and, as such, promises us His love and care, the inheritance of natural children; and planted the principle of life within us? This has amazed the people of God from the very beginning. Read Augustine’s Confessions, and on every page he expresses amazement at God’s love for him, unworthy as he was. Review our great hymns. The hymn writers can scarce believe that they are saved. Didn’t Newton capture the surprise of our salvation, John Newton the profligate and slave-trader:

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound, That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found, Was blind, but now I see.

He can’t speak merely of grace. It must be “amazing grace.” Why? Because it saved a lost, blind wretch like himself. Newton’s unworthiness magnifies God’s graciousness. Then there is Isaac Watts. Didn’t that old Calvinist divine understand the surprising grace of God?

Alas! and did my Saviour bleed? And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred Head for such a worm as I?
Was it for crimes that I had done He groaned upon the tree!
Amazing pity! Grace unknown! And love beyond degree!

He knew himself to be a moral and spiritual “worm,” an undeserving sinner. So he can’t speak of pity, but it must be “amazing pity.” He can’t speak of grace, but “grace unknown,” grace unheard of and unparalleled. He can’t speak of love, but “love beyond degree.” Then there is Charles Wesley, Christian upbringing and all, wasn’t he amazed at the love of God in Christ?

And can it be, that I should gain An interest in the Savior’s blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain? For me, who Him to death pursued?
Amazing love! how can it be That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

“Can it be?” he asks. Can I benefit from the blood of Christ though I, through my sins, “cause His pain” and pursued Him to death? Can it be that His death was for me? This is not love. It is “amazing love.” “How can it be?” he asks in utter astonishment. Do we grasp the enormity of His love? Do our hearts thrill to hear such? If not, I can scarcely believe that we understand the gospel at all. When we understand how undeserving we are, and to what heights God has raised us, then we too will cry out, “Behold, what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us.”