September 28 | Love Conquers Cravings | Text: 1 John 2:15-17
Notes
Transcript
Good morning. I’ve been hearing some rumblings lately... rumblings that this series on love is touching a nerve.
Not in a bad way. People are feeling convicted about their loving of others, their forgiving of others? People are struggling to love their enemies and pray for those who persecute them.
Folks, I get it. Loving people, especially the ones we don’t like, is hard business.
And honestly? I feel it too.
Last week, Wes said something that just stuck in my gut. He was talking about hate, and he said that it isn't just murderous anger; it's also the absence of love. It can be something quieter. It can be disregard.
It’s that moment you get to with someone where your heart says, "I'm done with you. My life is easier if you're not in it."
Now, I don't see myself as a hateful person, not in the stabby kind of way. Right I’m not rehearsing choking someone out, at least not very often. But disregarding someone? Canceling them from my life? Well, crap. That hit home. That's a battle I know.
And I don't know about you, but when conviction hits me like that, my first instinct is to fix it. My gut reaction is, "Okay, Lord, I see it. I’ll do better. I’ll try harder to be more loving. I'll choose better."
But I want to ask you all a question this morning: How does that "trying harder" plan work for you?
Because for me... it doesn't.
It's the same exhausting cycle for everything, isn't it? We swear we’ll stop doing something, only to do it again. We fight a craving with all our might, only to watch our willpower crumble. We get stuck in this frustrating loop: try harder, fail, feel shame, rinse and repeat.
And if you’ve been on that ride long enough, you might even find yourself questioning God, "Is this the best you’ve got to offer, Lord? Pastor Levi is always talking about the power of God, the power of the gospel to transform my life, but when I try harder to do what you ask, I feel powerless and I fail repeatedly! Is this the best you’ve got?"
Here’s the problem, Church—and let me clear, the problem is not with God, it’s with us: we're trying to solve a heart problem with a head solution.
But this battle isn't won with willpower; it's won with worship!
It’s won by training our hearts to ascribe worth to what is truly worthy. Or to put it in terms of the metaphor we’re going to be unpacking together, it’s about refining or retraining the tastebuds of our hearts!
And you may be wondering, where are you going with this? We're about to read a command from John that sounds like a call to "try harder," but it's not. It's a dinner invitation!
Today, our big idea is this: God's love conquers our cravings by feeding us a joy the world can't offer.
So let's turn to John's command, and as we read it, I hope you'll see it's less about trying harder to do something, and more about remembering whose table you're invited to and already sitting at!
Look with me at verse 15 and hear the Father’s invitation. I know it doesn’t sound like one at face value, but I hope to show you that it is. John writes,
15 Do not love this world nor the things it offers you, for when you love the world, you do not have the love of the Father in you.
If we’re not careful here, we can hear this as a rule or as a harsh command.
But journey with me for a moment. As a general principle of Bible Study we are called to always interpret scripture with other scripture. If you’ll come with me, I’ll attempt to show you how I see this not as condemnation but as invitation, framed by the love of God!
That is what John is talking about here—he’s talking of our love and God’s love. He says, if you love the world, then the love of the Father is not in you. That’s a pregnant little turn of phrase, folks.
The word John uses for love is agape. It means deep affection, regard, and commitment. My favorite way to put it is this: agape means, “God is always glad to see me.” It’s love that attaches. Love that holds fast under pressure.
To picture this, think of pregnancy. When a child is conceived, life begins to grow inside the mother. Those little kicks can’t be ignored. And along the way, the mother gets new cravings she never had before. In the same way, when God’s love takes root in us, it shows itself. It convicts us with small kicks. It shifts our cravings. It begins reshaping us from the inside out. That’s what agape, love, does.
Or think of it like attachment. Agape is like a strong weld that won’t break, or a trusted spotter at the gym who’s always there to make sure you don’t get crushed. God’s love isn’t distant or conditional. It’s steady. Faithful. Saying, “I’m with you. I’ve got you.”
And this idea shows up elsewhere in the New Testament. In Jude, agape is used to describe Christians’ shared meals together—what he calls “love feasts.” That was the original picture of Christian community: life together around a table, bonds of joy and affection, people helping one another become more like Jesus. It’s what we try to get at when we talk about “fridge friendships” here.
So when John tells us not to set our affection—our agape—on the world, he isn’t giving us a harsh rule. He’s protecting the invitation from the Father. He’s inviting us to a real love feast, a genuine connection at the table hosted by the Father Himself.
This a picture of God as a host? And it’s not just here, it’s all over the Bible.
Think with me about the Parable of the Great Banquet in the Gospels in Matthew 22 and Luke 14 where a king prepares an incredible feast and sends out invitations. The host's deep desire is for his guests to come and enjoy His table, His food and His company.
This is the picture of our God. He is the Host. Psalm 23 says He prepares a feast for us in the presence of our enemies. In Revelation, Jesus says, "Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and — what? — dine with him, and he with me." Our God is a God who invites us to His table! A table of feasting, of joy and celebration!
With that in mind, John’s command to not love the world makes perfect sense. He says, “…for when you love the world, you do not have the love of the Father in you.”
It’s simple, really. You can’t be an honored guest at the king’s banquet while you’re sitting in the gutter eating scraps. To accept one invitation is to decline the other.
And here’s the hard part: it’s not about trying harder or choosing better. The real battle is remembering whose table you belong to.
And that’s tough, because on the way to the Father’s banquet, the road is lined with the world’s fast-food joints.
They are flashy, loud, and they promise to satisfy your hunger right now. This is what John describes in verse 16:
16 For the world offers only a craving for physical pleasure, a craving for everything we see, and pride in our achievements and possessions. These are not from the Father, but are from this world.
These cravings are the dollar menu items designed to ruin your appetite for the real meal!
"The craving for physical pleasure" is the greasy burger of temporary comfort. It’s the extra drink to numb the stress, the endless scrolling on your phone to avoid being present, the comfort food after a hard day that promises peace but never delivers. It promises to fill you up, but it never quite does.
"The craving for everything we see" is the salty fries of comparison. It's that feeling you get scrolling through Instagram or Pinterest, looking at someone else's vacation, someone else's perfect-looking family, someone else's renovated kitchen. It’s the Zillow-scrolling for a house you can’t afford, or Snyder’s parking lot for a car you can’t afford. It’s a craving that only makes you thirstier for a life that isn’t yours.
"The pride in our achievements" is the sugary soda of self-importance. It’s needing everyone to know about your promotion at work, the success of your kids in sports, or how busy and important you are. It gives you a quick rush of validation, but it leaves you empty, alone and crashing; needing another hit.
And John doesn’t leave us guessing where these cravings come from. He’s clear: “These are not from the Father, but from this world.” They’re cheap imitations. Junk food.
Here’s the deal, Church: God has set a feast of love before us. Christ stands at the door and knocks, and if we open it, He will come in and dine with us. True pleasures—deep, lasting joy—are available daily in relationship with Him. But if we settle for the world’s fast food, we’ll never be satisfied.
You see, Church, we were made for joy—for feasting on the deep, lasting joy of Jesus. But when that joy is missing, when our souls refuse to find satisfaction in Him, we reach for the “junk food” of the world—those low-level pleasures that never truly fill us.
We need a way to notice when this is happening, to spot the moments when we’re settling for scraps instead of the feast God has prepared. That’s where Jim Wilder’s helpful acronym comes in: B.E.E.P.S. Think of these as markers, warning flags, signs that our hearts are chasing temporary hits instead of the real joy of Jesus.
Behaviors: Addictive actions or routines we use to cope, like stress-eating or retail therapy.
Events & Entertainment: Chasing the next thrill or distraction to avoid what’s really going on in our hearts.
People: Using people for approval or what they can give us, rather than connecting in a real, honest, and open-hearted loving relationships as iron sharpening iron.
Stuff: Possessions and achievements we believe will define us or make us happy.
These are the world’s fast food—cheap imitations of joy. They’re not from the Father. They trap us in the law of diminishing returns: what once boosted us no longer does. We have to buy more, scroll more, eat more, do more… just to chase the same fleeting hit.
This is why sin always takes us farther than we ever intended to go, as John points out, the pseudo-joys of life, they don’t last! It’s all fading way! Look at the text:
17 And this world is fading away, along with everything that people crave. But anyone who does what pleases God will live forever.
The world promises everything but leaves you hungrier than when you started. Why? Because it’s fast food! It’s not real nourishment.
Church, does this not define our cultural moment? People have lost their minds looking for soul nourishment in the cravings of the world? I hear this all the time, can you believe people are undergoing surgeries to change their genders? Can you believe the anger in our world that people are shooting up schools and assassinating one another? Can you believe the state of marriage? The loneliness epidemic and folks connecting with AI chat bots and just the insanity of all the things!
Yes I can Church, I can because this is the obesity, the bloated-ness, the disease of a people fed a steady diet of the cravings of this world: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life!!
And hear me I do not, God does not condemn us! His heart breaks for us. He doesn’t want to steal our joy. No, dear children! He has invited us to a feast of joy! The devil comes to steal, kill and destroy and he is, but Jesus comes to give life and life abundant. Jesus comes to give us joy!
The problem isn’t that we crave too much; the problem is that our appetites are far too easily satisfied. We are far too easily pleased. We’re happy eating a stale hot dog from a gas station roller grill because we can’t even imagine that our Father has a prime rib dinner waiting at His table. We ruin our appetite on the world’s fading fast food because we can’t envision the richness of His feast; or we won’t wait long enough in His presence to experience it.
The problem, Church, is that we don’t wait on the Lord. We’ve been trained by the speed of the internet, by instant gratification, by a culture that says, “I need it now.” So rather than come to the Father and wait for Him to give us joy, we settle for what fades. But God offers something that will never fade.
That’s the invitation.
But I get why someone might stumble to see it when John immediately follows with:
"But anyone who does what pleases God will live forever."
At first glance, it reads like: try harder to please God, then you live forever!
But that’s a misreading. You cannot earn your spot at the table. Your place has already been secured. The call is to stop settling for fast food on the way to dine with the King.
Think of it this way: the Father has prepared a feast, a leisurely meal of joy and satisfaction. All we have to do is sit at the table and receive it. But instead, we keep busy with junk food—quick, cheap fixes that bloat us but never truly satisfy. The “doing” we try to pile on—trying harder, being better, earning approval—is just a way to distract ourselves from sitting with God and feasting on Him. Or if we come to the table we come with a sack lunch we made! And that’s ridiculous!
John’s point here in these 3 verses, echoes Jesus: out of the heart the mouth speaks.
What we consume shapes what comes out. Our diet determines the health of our souls. You don’t do your way to eternal life. You sit at the table, feast on God’s presence, and the doing flows naturally from that relationship. The person who “does what pleases God” is simply the one who’s showing up at the banquet, enjoying the meal, letting the feast shape their life.
And I get it—you might be thinking: Okay, Levi, feast with God, don’t settle for fast food. But how? My life is loud, the fast food is everywhere, and this all sounds simple—but it feels impossible.
Church can I confess something to you. I struggle to get this. I know it in my head. That I can’t earn favor with God, but I still regularly live with a performance heart before God. I so desperately want to hear the words, well done good and faithful servant. I want my Father in Heaven to be proud of me! And I know I’m covered by the blood of Jesus and I’m loved and all that, but deep down, I live with a heart who still feels like I have to do and prove myself before Him.
Often times I try to show up to God’s table with a sack lunch I prepared myself!
I was just journaling to God this past week about some frustrations I have with people and honestly with God and the lack of power I see sometimes of His gospel at work in the lives of people I love and care about and I asked Him, Jesus is there anything I need to do better, love more, say better, preach better, what would you have me do to see more fruit? To experience more of you joy? What do you want me to do Father?
Sometimes, in my journal I write back to myself as if God were the one speaking.
Here’s what I wrote and God spoke to me through it.
Child, you see dimly now but one day you will see clearly. I know you’re concerned with doing and I plan to use you, but you should concern yourself less with tasks and doing.
Levi, do you know that if you never did another thing for me, if you never had another spiritual conversation with someone, if you never preached another sermon, or lead another group, if you never did another thing “for” me, I would still love you and be glad to see you. If you died tomorrow or in 5 seconds from now I’d be glad to see you with me. I want You to release all the doing. You are not better than others, you can’t do more, you won’t be better by doing. I just want your being.
Here’s what I wrote back.
Jesus, I don’t know how to just be. That feels lazy and irresponsible. But I hear you. I renounce doing to earn status before you and others. I renounce my need and desire to hear well done based on my performance. In Jesus’ name I command anything in on or around me that I gave ground to the enemy by believing this vow to go now from my life and I embrace the truth that I will hear well done solely because Christ did it all!
Spirit help me live this out without being apathetic or uncaring. I want to be useful but more than that I want You. Draw me in Lord. Do work. Heal me. Heal this world. Amen.
In the Church, we can talk about a lot of things—and most of them are good—but sometimes I think we overcomplicate it. The only “work” God has for us is to sit with Him, to believe on Him in a way that looks like a trusting relationship of time spent together.
The Father gave us this picture, Church: it’s the picture of feasting at the table.
Is it any wonder that when Jesus was with His disciples at the end, He didn’t give them a sermon but rather shared with them a meal? A meal we could never earn, but only accept. The Father invites us to sit with Him as the Host and enjoy His presence.
Church, you can’t choose better or try harder—and praise be to the Father, that’s not the invitation! The table has been set, and in Jesus you’ve already been invited. If you’re in Him, you are already there.
It’s why John begins this section by reminding us of our position before giving the command. He’s not a drill sergeant trying to whip you into shape. He’s a pastor reminding you your name is already on the guest list. He’s saying to you this morning:
(Read 1 John 2:12-14, perhaps with your own edits like below)
12 I am [preaching] to you who are God’s children because your sins have been forgiven through Jesus. 13 I am [preaching] to you who are mature in the faith because you know Christ, who existed from the beginning. I am [preaching] to you who are young in the faith because you have won your battle with the evil one. 14 I have [preached] to you who are God’s children because you know the Father. I have [preached] to you who are mature in the faith because you know Christ, who existed from the beginning. I have [preached] to you who are young in the faith because you are strong. God’s word lives in your hearts, and you have won your battle with the evil one.
We are not fighting for a seat at the table; we’re living from our secure place as honored guests. We are loved. And when we know we’re invited to a feast, the fast-food joints on the side of the road lose their appeal.
This changes everything. It changes how we relate to each other. We stop being “accountability groups” built on fear of failure—checking each other’s diets—and we become “identity groups” built on joy, reminding each other of the feast we’re invited to. Our motivation shifts from fear of disappointing God to deep gratitude for His invitation. Our focus shifts from our weak efforts to His generous provision at the table. And our response to failure changes completely—it’s no longer condemnation, but simply realizing we wandered off for scraps. The solution is to return to our seat, where the Host is waiting.
We finally see the world’s offers for what they are—fading junk food—because we’re feasting on the real thing.
Remember whose you are, Church. You will not love the world or the things it offers, because the love of God is in you and you know you have something that will never fade away.
God's love conquers our cravings by feeding us a joy the world can't offer.
Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit. Make it so in our hearts this day!
