The Mountain We Were Never Meant to Climb!
The Mountain We Were Never Meant to Climb!
I remember being young, standing at the base of a massive mountain. I was driving an area in Arkansas called “Boston Mountain.” It was terrifying to a young man with little driving experience. Little did I know that the mountain I was driving over would be an easy one. It was an entirely different mountain that almost broke me. It wasn’t made of rock and stone, but of drive, ambition, desire, and the lust of everything the world offered. It was the mountain of acceptance (I’ve always felt a need to be accepted), of success, of pleasure. And I was convinced that my purpose was to climb and conquer it. Every ounce of my being screamed, “Climb! Do whatever it takes to reach the top.” Find a system and manipulate it if necessary.
This is the struggle the Apostle John addresses in his first letter. We all feel that pull. In 1 John chapter 2, he lays out an uncomfortable truth: “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him” (1 John 2:15).
Reading that can feel like a spiritual pile driver from Macho Man Randy Savage. I can have no love for the world? How do we live in the world but not love it? Can I love my oatmeal crème pies? It may be over for me then. It feels like an impossible balancing act. But John isn’t calling us to a life of chants on a mountain with a giant gong, but to a radical reorientation of our hearts. It’s not easy. We’re all a work in progress.
What is “The World”?
Before we can understand the command, we must understand the words. What does John mean by “the world” (in Greek, kosmos)? We must conclude from context and other scripture that he is not talking about God’s beautiful creation—the mountains, oceans, and people He so loves. John clarifies exactly what he means. This “world” is defined by a unholy trinity of its own:
The lust of the flesh: This is the craving for self gratification. It’s the drive to satisfy our physical appetites outside of God’s design. It’s the “if it feels good, do it” mentality that reduces us to be people driven by base impulses rather than by the Holy Spirit.
The lust of the eyes: This is the crazy desire to have what we see. It’s stoked by materialism, comparison, and envy. Envy is so dangerous. It’s the endless scrolling through social media (brain washing), coveting lifestyles of the rich and famous, possessions that make us feel more alive, and relationships that meet every narcissistic desire we have. It’s the belief that the next purchase, the next upgrade or encounter, will finally satisfy the longing in our inmost being. If I had a guitar like that, I could play like John Mayer. No sir. No, you couldn’t.
The pride of life: This is the swagger of Jagger or self-sufficiency. It’s the obsession with high status, reputation, and personal achievement. It’s the need to be seen, to be important, to build our own kingdom instead of God’s. It’s the core of the sin in the Garden—the desire to be “like God,” charting our own course, setting sail for personal achievement and having no regard for eternity.
This world is a mountain that promises a kingdom at its summit but ultimately leads to a cliff diving experience you do not want to have. It lands in hell. It’s all “passing away” (1 John 2:17). The question is how we transfer our love from something sinking to something eternal. A tough task indeed.
Actively Maturing Opens Our Eyes to Reality
The journey away from the love of the world is a process of maturing. John teaches this by addressing his readers in different stages of their faith:
Little children: You are a child of God because your sins are forgiven. Your identity is secure. You know the Father. This is the moment of salvation. The thrill of waking up is like being born, it’s exhilarating and terrifying.
Young men: You are strong. You have overcome the evil one because the Word of God abides in you. This is a time of battle, of constantly resisting the temptations of the world by standing on God’s truth. Many fail in this stage and pretend the rest of the way.
Fathers: You have known Him who is from the beginning. This is the stage of deep, abiding contemplation of life. The allure of the world fades not because you’ve mastered a set of rules, but because you are so captivated by the beauty of God that the world’s trinkets lose their shine. His Word found root!
As we mature in Christ, we begin to open our eyes to a new reality. We see the world for what it is: a temporary mound of dirt, and our longing turns to the eternal home of God.
Anointing is the Compass that Guides us to Truth
So how do we climb this Telluride? We don’t do it alone.
“But you have an anointing from the Holy One, and all of you know the truth... the anointing that you received from him abides in you, and you have no need that anyone should teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about everything, and is true, and is no lie—just as it has taught you, abide in him.” (1 John 2:20, 27)
This “anointing” is the presence and power of the Holy Spirit. He is our guide, our counselor, our truth (and lie)-detector. When the world presents its lies packaged in glitter with all its false promises, the anointing within us creates a holy crankiness and uneasiness, a pause in our spirit. He is the one who leads us into all truth (John 16:13). He teaches us to discern between the voice of our flesh/world and the voice of our Father. God helps us to see the world’s mountain for the molehill it truly is.
Abiding is the only Hope We Have
Ultimately, the entire chapter points to the simple solution: Abide in Christ.
To abide means to remain, to dwell, to live in Him. It’s not a Sunday visit for supper (aww, I want some fried chicken) but a permanent place to crash when the world is loud and chaotic. When we abide in Christ, we are connected to the vine (John 15). We draw our life, our strength, our love, and our desires from Him.
Loving the world is the default setting of a heart disconnected from the Father. Salvation is the initial reboot. But as we abide in Jesus—through prayer, through His Word, through fellowship with His people—His love begins to fill us, heal us, and reorient us. The love of the Father replaces the love of the world. It’s not that we conquer the mountain; it’s that we turn our back on it because we’ve found a far greater Treasure, a far more glorious King, a far more satisfying Love.
We stop climbing and start abiding. The toil of the mountain will wear you out. Turn around. Turn to Jesus.