The holy is not merely the pristine or the perfect. It is that which belongs to God and is set apart for His purposes.
The Feast of All Saints invites us to consider the identity of the people of God, both those who have gone before us into glory and those who yet live and worship in the penultimate, awaiting the appearing of our Lord. John’s first epistle gives us a wonderful starting point: “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so, we are.” The apostle goes on to speak of what we are now, what we shall be when Christ appears, and the hope that purifies us in the meantime. Focus on that final point this year, particularly the language of ἁγνός and ἁγνίζω: Being pure, purifying oneself, setting oneself apart. We might call it holying.
Start with something concrete, preacher. Did your listener’s grandmother have a china cabinet? Perhaps there was a set of good dishes, brought out for Christmas or Thanksgiving, or just when company came for a proper dinner. Those dishes are special. They are not for Tuesday night chili dogs. You ate those off the plastic Mickey Mouse plate with the crack in it and the mustard stain that would never come out. Grandma’s good china was handwashed, carefully dried, and returned to its appointed place. Put grandma’s Mikasa in the microwave, and you might find yourself written out of the will.
What makes the china special? It is not necessarily that it is spotless, or it has never been chipped, or it is somehow morally superior to the Mickey Mouse plate. It has been set apart. It is reserved for a particular use, regarded as something special, and distinguished from the ordinary dishes of everyday life. This is the basic sense of holiness: Being set apart for special use. The holy is not merely the pristine or the perfect. It is that which belongs to God and is set apart for His purposes.
This is what we need to overhear in John’s words at 1 John 3:3: “Everyone who thus hopes in Him purifies himself as He is pure.” The language of purity in the text can too easily be heard as a moral challenge: Jesus is perfect, so you had better get your act together. Be better, try harder, clean yourself up, and perhaps you too will be worthy to join the saints. But that is not the direction John is moving his argument. His emphasis is on the hope we have in Christ, the hope of seeing Him as He is and being made like Him when He appears. The one who has this hope in Christ is already living toward that promised future. Her life is being set apart in anticipation of the day when what she is in Christ will be revealed in its fullness.
The distinction is between prescription and description. John is not cataloguing a list of improvements to realize before Jesus will receive us. He is describing the life of those who already belong to Jesus, whose hope is fixed on Him. Their lives are being holied – set apart. That does not purchase a place with the saints. It is a gift bestowed. The Father has already gifted His love to us (oh, what manner of love!), the astonishing gift of calling us His children. “And so, we are” (1 John 3:1-2)! That little phrase “children of God” is the foundation under everything which follows.
This brings us to Christ Himself. Before we ever speak of the Church setting herself apart for Christ, we confess Christ setting Himself apart for His Church. The Son of God takes on our flesh, comes among us, and gives Himself for His holy bride. He does not wait for His bride to make herself beautiful enough to deserve Him. He loves her, gives Himself for her, and cleanses her with His own blood. At the cross, Jesus is set apart for the work His Father has given Him: The redemption of sinners, the defeat of death, and the gathering of a people who belong to Him forever.
Before we ever speak of the Church setting herself apart for Christ, we confess Christ setting Himself apart for His Church.
Jesus is the bridegroom who makes His bride holy. The Church’s holiness begins not in her accomplishments but in His self-giving love. The blood shed for her sins, the water poured upon her in baptism, the Word which declares her forgiven, these are the gifts by which Christ claims and consecrates His people. He sets us apart as His own, and we live as those who belong to Him. The Church’s holiness is first and foremost a gift, not a task, an identity, not a burden.
Now, consider what this means for the living saints, the Church on earth. We are not yet what we shall be. John is clear about that: “Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared” (1 John 3:2). We live in the tension between the already and the not yet. We belong to Christ now, but we await His appearing, when we will see Him as He is and be like Him. Until then, we live as His people in a world that does not know Him and, therefore, does not fully recognize us. Our lives are marked by an identity that the world cannot finally understand, because our citizenship and our hope are bound up with the coming King.
This hidden life is not just an idle waiting. The one who hopes in Christ sets himself apart even as Christ is pure. We might say that the bride begins to live like the bride because she belongs to the bridegroom. This is not out of fear that he might reject her, but out of anticipation of the union he has promised. The bride does not make herself a bride by behaving like one. She lives as a bride because she has been given to the bridegroom. Her life is shaped by the love that has claimed her and the wedding feast to which she is led. This is embodied grace, grace in a body, grace in the Body of Christ, grace that is embodied by His body, the Church. We “holy” because He holies. We purify because He is pure. That is description, profoundly identifying the people of God.
Holy people, holy things. The ancient liturgical phrase ἅγια ἁγίοις (“holy things for holy people”) speaks beautifully to this life of the Church. Christ gives holy things to His holy people: The preached Word, the water of Baptism, the body and blood of the Lord’s Supper. These are no ordinary things, pressed into religious service by our imagination. They are the means by which Christ delivers His promises to His people, setting them apart as His own and sustaining them in the faith until the day of His appearing.
Even the familiar phrase, “Communio sanctorum,” bears this richness: The “communion of saints,” or just as accurately the “communion with holy things.” Saints gather round what Christ gives. On All Saints’ Day, we remember those who have departed in the faith and now rest in the presence of the Lord. We confess our fellowship with them, with the angels and archangels, and with all the company of Heaven. Yet, the feast is not only about those who have finished their course. It is also about us, the living saints, still receiving the gifts of Christ, still being sustained by His promises, and still being set apart for the life to come.
Holiness is no excuse to despise the everyday, ordinary, or mundane. Christ claims us in the ordinary and makes us His own.
We do not set ourselves apart by retreating from our neighbors or pretending that ordinary life is beneath us. Holiness is no excuse to despise the everyday, ordinary, or mundane. Christ claims us in the ordinary and makes us His own. We return to our homes, our work, our families, and our neighbors as people who belong to Him. We are ordinary people with ordinary lives that are given cosmic significance, elevating, sanctifying our callings in service to our neighbor. The life of the saints is no performance designed to impress God. It is the life of those who have been loved, cleansed, and claimed by the Bridegroom.
Return to the china cabinet, preacher. The good dishes are not set apart because they have earned their place behind the glass. They are set apart because someone designated them for special use. And the Church’s holiness is not a prize for those who have managed to keep themselves spotless. Christ has claimed His bride. He has washed her, clothed her, and promised to present her to Himself in glory.
Until that day, we live in, with, and under Jesus’ holy gifts. We receive His Word. We remember our baptism. We come to His table, where holy things are given to holy people. This is not because we have made ourselves worthy, but because Christ has made us His own. We wait for the Bridegroom, and in hope we are being made ready for the feast.
The Father has called us His children, and so we are! The Son has set Himself apart for us, giving His body and blood for our redemption. The Spirit sustains us in the faith and keeps our hope fixed on the appearing of our Lord. And when He appears, the hidden holiness of His people will be manifest: We shall see Him as He is, and we shall be like Him. Until then, we live as the people He has claimed, gathered around the holy things He gives, awaiting the day when faith becomes sight and the bridegroom welcomes His bride into the joy that has no end.
Additional Resources:
Craft of Preaching-Check out 1517’s resources on 1 John 3:1–3.
Concordia Theology-Various helps from Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, MO to assist you preaching 1 John 3:1–3.
Lectionary Kick-Start-Check out this fantastic podcast from Craft of Preaching authors Peter Nafzger and David Schmitt as they dig into the texts for this Sunday!
The Pastor’s Workshop-Check out all the great preaching resources from our friends at the Pastor’s Workshop!
