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"God is Beauty," said the Greek; "God is Strength," said the Roman; "God is Law," said the Jew; "God is Love," says the disciple. "It came to this that the Son of God had for love to lay down His life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren." St. John seems to say, "Yes; but you will not be much called on to do that when things are settled. You will not be asked for your life — will you then give up something of your living? There is more call for that. Whoso hath the world's livelihood (βίος) and looks on his brother in want, and locks his compassions out of his reach — how is God's love imminent in him?" The barbed question is followed up by a glowing indignation, called for it would seem, even in those days of first love. Ah! "Little children of mine, do not let us be loving in word, nor even in tongue, but in deed and in truth." Not so much theory, not so much even of warm expression, but reality. "If God so loved us, as now we know He did, we owe it to love one another." It is a debt. That life was given, and given to us. There must be some obligations growing out of that utterly unearned increment. Surely it is by our working that God will cease to permit the misery that He has not made. Repay, redress, rebalance, we cannot by mere almsgiving, however liberal. But "this world's goods" — "the life of this world (βίος κοσμου)" of which St. John asks us to give him some — "this world's life" is more than its spare monies. Breath, light, space to be decent, and healthful food; order and peace and rest, and beautiful sights and sounds; knowledge and the power to care for it, time to consider, religion, and a belief that religion and worship are for the likes of them, and not a form of luxury; these are regions of "the life of this world" which we inherit, but which have been fenced and walled from millions. When we with the best intent are building, broad and high, castles of dwellings for artisans we still are not working on the lines of nature and society. Sanitation and accommodation, with even recreation added, are not all that the simplest society claims. Society, to be society, must have society. It cannot be all of one grain. The simplest must have some little range of ranks. It must have some elements of inspiration from without it, and from above it, in force sufficient to be felt. Some loving spirits must go and dwell among them; who will not hear of brutality being regarded as the natural law even of the lowest; who will begin by expecting of them, even as of others, soberness and honesty and care for the family, and through expecting patiently will create. There are the ἀρχηγοί of a new society, and there is no form of influence fuller of power, fuller it may be of trial, but also fuller of reward, and richer for the future. What the few bear who live thus, what discouragements, what broken pledges, what fallings back, what mad sounds by night, what sights by day, no novel and no visitor can describe. None know but they who live there. And yet there are the elements of society. There is duty constantly scorning selfishness, suffering brutality rather than wrongly escape from it, working itself to death for the children rather than take them to the workhouse. There are sacrifices as strange as the sins that impose them. Again, there are ears that will hear, men and families that will advance their whole standard of life, under the influence of those whom they have seen loving them for nought.

(Abp. Benson.)

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KJV: Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another.

WEB: Beloved, if God loved us in this way, we also ought to love one another.