In the first article of this series, we considered a tension that seems increasingly common in Christian conversations. Some fear that the church is compromising biblical truth in its desire to appear compassionate. Others fear that Christians have become so concerned with defending their convictions that they have forgotten how to love people. We turned to Ephesians 4 and discovered that Paul does not present truth and love as competing obligations. Both belong to the maturity Christ intends for his church.
But I want to take our discussion a little deeper. Why do these things belong together? Is it simply because Christians ought to be honest and kind, or is there something about God himself that helps us understand the relationship?
I think the answer begins with a much more important question: Who is Jesus?
One of the best places to begin answering that question is the opening chapter of John’s Gospel. John tells us that the eternal Word became flesh and lived among us. Then, in verse 14, he describes the glory of the incarnate Son as full of grace and truth.
Notice that John says grace and truth, rather than love and truth. Those ideas are closely related, but we shouldn’t treat them as identical. John’s language has its own meaning, rooted in the way God has revealed himself throughout Scripture.
Before asking what Christians should do, let’s consider what John wants us to understand about Jesus.
Before There Was a Beginning
John opens his Gospel with words that would have been immediately familiar to readers acquainted with the opening of Genesis. Both books begin by directing our attention to the beginning, but there’s a remarkable distinction between them.
Genesis tells us that God created the heavens and the earth. John tells us that when creation began, the Word already existed.
In John 1:1–3, the Word is described as being with God, as being God, and as the one through whom everything was created.
Consider what John is claiming.
Jesus did not begin his existence in Bethlehem. His life did not start when Mary conceived him. He is not a created being who eventually became divine, nor merely a remarkable religious teacher whose understanding of God exceeded that of his contemporaries.
He is the eternal Son, fully divine, existing in fellowship with the Father before the world was made.
And John tells us that everything that came into existence was made through him.
That distinction is essential. If everything created came into existence through the Word, then the Word himself cannot belong to the category of created things.
Now, why does John begin here?
Because everything else he tells us about Jesus depends upon understanding who Jesus is.
When Jesus speaks about God, he is not simply offering a human interpretation of the divine. When he reveals God’s character, he does so as the eternal Son who knows the Father perfectly.
And when he extends grace toward sinners, we are witnessing something far greater than an admirable example of human kindness.
We are seeing God make himself known.
I think this is especially important today because people often appeal to Jesus in support of dramatically different convictions. One person emphasizes his compassion. Another emphasizes his teaching about righteousness and judgment. Others appeal to selected moments in his life to support particular political or cultural positions.
But we have to be careful.
If Jesus is merely an inspiring religious figure, we might feel free to select the portions of his teaching that appeal to us and set aside the rest.
John will not allow us to approach Jesus that way.
The one he introduces is the eternal Word through whom we were created.
Our task is not to decide which parts of Jesus deserve our approval. It is to understand who he actually is and what he has revealed.
The Light That Entered Our Darkness
As John continues, he introduces the themes of life, light, and darkness.
Life belongs to the Word, and that life is the light of humanity. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
John then introduces John the Baptist, whose responsibility was to bear witness to the light.
There is something worth noticing here. Even John the Baptist, with his extraordinary calling, was not the center of God’s revelation. He was a witness directing others toward Christ.
That’s a helpful reminder for anyone who teaches Scripture. Our purpose is not to make people dependent upon our personalities or persuade them that we possess all the answers. It is to direct them toward the one who does.
But John then introduces a troubling development.
The Word through whom the world was created entered that world, and the world did not recognize him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.
Think about the tragedy of that statement.
The Creator came among his creatures, and they failed to recognize him.
As John’s Gospel unfolds, we will encounter people who possess considerable religious knowledge yet remain unable or unwilling to recognize Jesus for who he is.
Some know the Scriptures remarkably well. They have inherited religious traditions, understand biblical commands, and believe they are defending faithfulness to God.
Yet they oppose the very one to whom those Scriptures point.
I don’t think we should rush past that.
Religious confidence and spiritual discernment are not necessarily the same thing.
That doesn’t mean confidence in biblical truth is wrong. Nor does it mean those who question our interpretations are necessarily more discerning than those who hold firmly to them.
But it should remind us that sincere religious conviction, by itself, cannot guarantee that we have understood God’s revelation correctly.
Our confidence must rest in what God has actually revealed, not merely in the strength with which we hold our conclusions.
And that requires us to remain attentive to Scripture, even when it challenges assumptions we have held for years.
The Grace That Gives Us Life
Thankfully, John’s account doesn’t end with humanity’s rejection of the light.
In verses 12–13, he tells us that those who receive Christ and believe in his name are given the right to become children of God.
And then he explains that this new birth is from God.
I want us to consider the significance of that statement because it introduces us to something essential about biblical grace.
When we hear the word grace, we often think of kindness, patience, or giving someone another chance. Those ideas are related to grace, but they do not fully explain what John is describing.
He is talking about people who become children of God through receiving Christ, with a new birth that originates in God’s gracious work.
We are not born into God’s family because we have made ourselves sufficiently righteous. Nor do we enter through family heritage, religious achievement, or the strength of our own determination.
Salvation depends upon God.
That is a humbling truth, but it is also wonderfully encouraging.
If our relationship with God depended upon our ability to earn his acceptance, where would that leave us? How much obedience would be enough? How could we ever know that we had satisfied his holiness?
The gospel answers those questions by directing us away from ourselves and toward Jesus Christ.
God does not save sinners because they have become worthy of his favor. He saves by grace.
Now think about how that should affect the way we approach other people.
If our own standing before God is entirely dependent upon his gracious work, what possible grounds do we have for spiritual superiority?
We may have a better understanding of a particular biblical passage than someone else. We may have walked with Christ longer or gained wisdom through years of studying Scripture.
But none of those things makes us more deserving of salvation.
Everything we have received ultimately comes from the grace of God.
That should make us grateful, certainly. But shouldn’t it also make us patient with others?
After all, we are not merely people who discovered the truth because we were clever enough to find it.
We are people to whom God has graciously made himself known.
When God Came Near
We now arrive at one of the most extraordinary statements in Scripture.
In John 1:14, John tells us that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.
I wonder whether our familiarity with those words sometimes prevents us from appreciating just how remarkable they are.
The eternal Son, through whom everything was created, entered the world he had made.
He became truly human.
He did not simply appear to be human or temporarily disguise himself in human form. Nor did he cease being God when he became man.
The eternal Son took on genuine humanity while remaining fully divine.
This is what Christians mean when we speak of the incarnation.
But there is more here than a doctrinal statement about Christ’s two natures.
Consider what the incarnation tells us about God’s willingness to make himself known.
The God who created humanity entered human existence. Jesus experienced hunger, exhaustion, sorrow, rejection, and suffering. He lived among ordinary people, encountered their weaknesses, and entered the circumstances of a world devastated by sin.
And he did so without becoming sinful himself.
John’s description of the Word dwelling among us also recalls an important theme from the Old Testament.
During Israel’s wilderness journey, God instructed his people to construct a tabernacle where his presence would dwell among them. The tabernacle was associated with the manifestation of God’s glory.
Now John tells us that the glory of God has been revealed in the person of Jesus Christ.
God has come near in a way that surpasses the earlier manifestations of his presence among Israel.
And notice what this means.
God has not left us to discover his character through speculation. He has revealed himself.
Yet the coming of Christ does not mean that God has abandoned his holiness or become indifferent toward human sin. The God who came near is the same God who judges all things with perfect righteousness.
His nearness is gracious precisely because sinful humanity cannot establish fellowship with a holy God through its own efforts.
We needed him to come to us.
And in Jesus Christ, he has.
The God Who Is Full of Grace and Truth
This brings us to the expression at the center of our discussion.
John describes the incarnate Word as full of grace and truth.
What does he want us to understand?
I believe the Old Testament provides an important part of the answer, particularly an encounter between God and Moses recorded in Exodus 33–34.
The circumstances are worth remembering.
Israel has recently committed a serious act of idolatry by worshiping the golden calf. Despite God’s extraordinary deliverance from Egypt and his gracious provision throughout their journey, the people have turned to a false object of worship.
God’s judgment against their sin is entirely righteous.
Yet Moses intercedes for the people, and the account turns toward the question of God’s continuing presence with Israel.
Moses asks to see God’s glory.
In Exodus 34, God reveals himself by proclaiming his own character. He identifies himself as merciful and gracious, patient, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.
But notice something important. The revelation of God’s mercy is not separated from his justice. God also declares that he will not simply leave guilt unpunished.
So what are we learning about God?
His compassion does not arise from indifference toward sin. His faithfulness does not require him to abandon righteousness.
He is gracious because grace belongs to his character, not because he is willing to compromise his holiness.
Now return to John 1.
John speaks of God’s glory, his dwelling among his people, and the fullness of grace and truth revealed in Jesus Christ. A few verses later, he explicitly mentions Moses.
These connections give us good reason to understand John’s language against the background of God’s earlier revelation.
The Hebrew expression in Exodus 34:6, commonly translated in terms of steadfast love and faithfulness, is not word-for-word identical to John’s Greek expression. We should not claim that John is merely repeating the same words.
But the theological relationship is significant.
The God who revealed his covenant mercy and faithfulness to Moses has now revealed himself through his incarnate Son.
And this helps us understand why grace and truth are not competing qualities in Jesus.
God’s truth includes his perfect faithfulness to his character, his promises, and his revealed purposes. He never deceives, never acts contrary to his nature, and never fails to accomplish what he has declared.
His grace is his undeserved favor, freely expressed toward those who have no claim upon it.
These are distinct realities, but they are not in conflict.
When God extends grace, he does not become less truthful. When he upholds truth, he does not become less gracious.
His character is perfectly consistent.
That is what makes his grace so extraordinary. It is not the result of overlooking reality or pretending sin is insignificant.
It is the undeserved generosity of a holy God who remains perfectly faithful to everything he is.
Grace Did Not Begin in Bethlehem
John develops this idea further in verses 16–17.
He explains that believers have received from Christ’s fullness and then contrasts the law given through Moses with the grace and truth that came through Jesus Christ.
This passage deserves careful attention because it can easily be misunderstood.
Someone might read John’s contrast and assume that the Old Testament was primarily concerned with law and judgment, while Jesus introduced an entirely different approach based upon grace.
But that simply does not fit the biblical evidence.
We have already seen that God revealed himself to Moses as merciful and gracious. The deliverance of Israel from Egypt was an extraordinary demonstration of undeserved favor. God’s covenant relationship with his people did not begin because Israel had earned his acceptance.
The law itself was given within the context of God’s gracious dealings with Israel.
So John cannot mean that grace was entirely absent until Jesus arrived.
What, then, is the distinction?
Moses was the servant through whom God gave his law. That revelation was true, authoritative, and graciously provided.
But Moses was not the final or fullest revelation of God.
Jesus Christ is the eternal Son.
The earlier revelation was genuine, but God’s saving purposes reach their fulfillment in him.
John describes believers receiving from Christ’s fullness. The precise sense of the expression translated “grace upon grace” has been debated. Some understand it as an abundance of successive grace, while others emphasize the way one gracious provision gives way to another.
We don’t need to settle every detail of that discussion to understand John’s central point.
The fullness belongs to Christ, and those who receive him are the beneficiaries of his grace.
This is important because we should never portray the Bible as though it reveals two conflicting versions of God.
The God who spoke through Moses is the God who sent his Son.
His character has not changed.
What has changed is the stage of redemptive history. The promises, patterns, and preparations of the Old Testament find their fulfillment in Jesus Christ.
And the grace God has always shown his people is now revealed in the saving work of his Son.
The Son Has Made Him Known
John brings his introduction to a remarkable conclusion in verse 18.
He tells us that no one has ever seen God, and then explains that the unique Son, who is himself divine and enjoys intimate fellowship with the Father, has made him known.
This is where John’s argument has been leading.
The Word who existed before creation, the one through whom all things were made, has entered our world and revealed the Father.
Consider the significance.
When we want to know what God is like, we are not left merely to imagine what divine love, holiness, righteousness, or mercy might look like.
God has revealed himself in Jesus Christ.
The God who revealed himself to Moses is the same God revealed through Jesus Christ. John’s point is not that Jesus has introduced us to a different God, but that the eternal Son has brought God’s earlier revelation to its appointed fullness. What God made known through his words, promises, and covenant dealings is now revealed decisively in the person of Christ.
And we should be careful not to reduce Jesus to whichever quality we most want God to possess.
If we prefer a God who never confronts sin, we may emphasize the tenderness of Jesus while minimizing his calls to repentance.
If we prefer a God who primarily confirms our moral convictions, we may emphasize Jesus’ confrontations with hypocrisy while overlooking his compassion toward sinners.
Both approaches begin with our preferences rather than God’s revelation.
John calls us to something better.
He calls us to behold the one who has made the Father known.
And that means we must receive Jesus as Scripture reveals him, even when doing so challenges assumptions we would rather preserve.
What Grace and Truth Mean for the Way We Live
At this point, I want to return to the question that led us into this passage.
What does all of this mean for Christians who are struggling to understand the relationship between truth and love?
I think the first thing we need to recognize is that John 1 is not primarily giving us instructions about how to handle disagreements.
It is revealing Jesus Christ.
And we should resist the temptation to turn every biblical passage into a lesson about human behavior before we have understood what God is telling us about himself.
But once we understand who Jesus is, the implications for our lives become significant.
If God has made himself known through his Son, we cannot treat truth as something we are free to redefine according to our preferences.
And if we have received God’s undeserved grace through Christ, we cannot rightly approach others with arrogance or contempt.
Our commitment to truth should arise from our submission to God’s revelation.
Our compassion should arise from hearts increasingly shaped by the grace we have received.
Neither begins with the desire to maintain a particular political identity or win a cultural disagreement.
Both begin with Christ.
And I think this should change the way we approach people.
Consider someone who struggles with a particular Christian teaching. Perhaps they believe the church has been unnecessarily harsh. Perhaps they have been wounded by someone who claimed to speak for God. Or perhaps they simply cannot reconcile what they have experienced with what Christians say Scripture teaches.
How should we respond?
I don’t believe there is a single conversational formula that answers every situation.
Some people need patient listening before anything else. Others need careful instruction because they have misunderstood what Scripture teaches. Some need loving correction. Others are grieving and need someone willing to acknowledge their pain without immediately turning it into a theological argument.
And often, people need a combination of these things.
We must remember that people are not simply sets of beliefs waiting to be corrected.
They are human beings created in God’s image, living with relationships, experiences, fears, desires, responsibilities, and burdens that may not be apparent to us.
That doesn’t diminish the importance of truth.
It reminds us why love matters when we communicate it.
And it also reminds us that compassion is more than agreeing with someone.
There may be times when genuine love requires us to communicate a difficult truth. But even then, our purpose should be to serve the person, not demonstrate our superiority.
We need the humility to acknowledge that our understanding may be incomplete, the courage to remain faithful where Scripture is clear, and the patience to discern what another person actually needs.
Those qualities do not develop merely because we become better at arguing.
They grow as God’s grace continues its transforming work in us.
Before We Ask What Jesus Would Do
There is a question I would like us to consider before we finish.
When Christians face a difficult situation, we sometimes ask, “What would Jesus do?”
That’s not necessarily a bad question. His life certainly provides an example for those who belong to him.
But I wonder whether we sometimes ask it too quickly.
Perhaps we need to begin with another question.
Who is Jesus?
Because if we misunderstand who he is, we may also misunderstand what it means to follow him.
John doesn’t begin by telling us to become more loving or more truthful.
He begins by revealing the eternal Word who became flesh.
He tells us about the light that entered our darkness, the rejection of the Creator by his creatures, the new birth given by God, and the fullness of grace and truth revealed in the Son.
Only when we understand these things can we properly appreciate what it means to reflect his character.
So I want to encourage you to return to John 1:1–18.
Read the passage carefully, and resist the temptation to begin with what you think it should mean for someone else. Start by asking what John is revealing about Jesus. Why does he begin before creation? Why does he describe Jesus as the light? What does it mean to become a child of God? And why does John connect the incarnation with God’s glory, grace, and truth?
If you’re familiar with Exodus 33–34, read those chapters alongside John 1. Consider what God reveals about himself to Moses and how John’s description of Jesus brings that revelation into focus.
Then I would encourage you to examine a more personal question: Am I allowing Scripture to shape my understanding of Jesus, or am I selecting the parts of Jesus’ character that affirm what I already believe?
That’s a question that reaches all of us.
Perhaps we readily recognize Christ’s compassion but struggle with his calls to repentance. Perhaps we are quick to defend his holiness but slower to demonstrate the patience and humility appropriate for people saved by grace.
The particular struggle may differ from person to person, but the responsibility is the same. We must allow the whole testimony of Scripture to shape our understanding of Christ.
And as we do, we should remember that our greatest need is not simply to become better examples of grace and truth.
We need something far greater.
We need the Savior who came into our darkness.
The eternal Son did not become flesh merely to provide humanity with an inspiring demonstration of divine character. He came to accomplish the redemption that sinners could never accomplish for themselves.
The Gospel of John will eventually bring us to the cross, where Jesus willingly lays down his life for his people, and to the empty tomb, where his victory over death is revealed.
The grace and truth John announces in his opening chapter are not abstract theological ideas. They belong to the person and saving mission of Jesus Christ.
And that brings us back to where we began.
We do not have to choose between God’s truth and his grace because they are perfectly consistent in the God who has revealed himself through Jesus Christ.
Our calling is not to remake him according to our preferences, nor to search for some comfortable compromise between competing cultural visions.
It is to know him as he has revealed himself, trust in his saving work, submit to his Word, and increasingly reflect his character.
Before we can faithfully represent Christ to the world, we must allow Scripture to show us who Christ truly is.
And John wants us to see him as the eternal Word, made flesh, full of grace and truth.
This is Part Two of Truth and Love: Following Christ Without Compromise, a five-part series from Through the Hope of Truth.
Previously: When Truth and Love Become Enemies
Next: Love Is Not the Same as Agreement — How can Christians remain genuinely compassionate without confusing love with approval?
Scripture quotations are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. ESV Text Edition: 2025. The ESV text may not be quoted in any publication made available to the public by a Creative Commons license. The ESV may not be translated in whole or in part into any other language. Used by permission. All rights reserved.