We live in times that are described with unsettling clarity in Matthew 7. Jesus speaks of false prophets, deception, and voices that mislead. He warns of wolves in sheep’s clothing. Many today see echoes of this within the Christian landscape, where people are drawn into paths shaped less by the way of Christ and more by exclusion, hostility, and distortion. In that same passage, Jesus describes a moment at the end of time when people approach him expecting welcome. They are completely confident, as they point to what they have done in his name.

“We prophesied in your name. We drove out demons in your name. We performed miracles in your name.”

These are not people without religious activity. They are not strangers to spiritual language or practice. Yet the response they receive is devastating.

“I never knew you.”

The shock of those words lies in their simplicity. They expected to be possibly discussing achievements. Or maybe the doctrines they held as precious. Possibly they were thinking that religious identity or affiliation might come into it. But no. Instead, something far more personal is exposed.

“I never knew you.”

The tragedy is not a lack of spiritual activity. The tragedy is that the relationship Jesus desired never truly formed. These are people who were willing to use his name, yet never learned to trust him deeply. They pursued religious life while retaining control of its direction. They selected the boundaries, defined the commitments, and followed a path of their own making. Christ was acknowledged, but not followed. A simple illustration may help. Consider two very different characters. First we hear from Simon.

Well as you can imagine, I originally visited the doctor when it got bad. He listened to the story of all my various symptoms. He seemed to have a sense of what might be wrong, and asked about several other symptoms which indeed I had experienced but not connected with whatever it was that was wrong with me. He explained his diagnosis and prescribed a course of treatment. It involved both medication (they were very large bitter tablets) and exercise (about which I was non too pleased!) But I followed his instructions and I gradually recovered for a couple of months, and then I had a setback. But I needn't have worried. On my second consultation, the doctor explained again what was happening, and indicated that the treatment was working and I should continue. And so I trusted his judgement. And over the course of the next six months I recovered completely. He really is a very good doctor. Every time I visited him, we were able to connect with exactly my condition, and he both instructed me and encouraged me to persist.

Coincidentally, Jamie had the exact same condition. Here is his account.

I had to go to the doctor. The symptoms were really bad, but of course they are a bit embarrassing and the doctor didn't strike me as friendly. So I spoke in fairly general terms, and I was surprised when the doctor suggested what the problem was. Well, I have never smoked, so I wasn't convinced. But you know what doctors are like - pretty arrogant. They always think they are right. He suggested some medication and said I need to get more exercise. I thought, 'Good luck with that!' And the tablets were impossible to swallow. So I went back, but he just said the same thing, which hadn't worked in the first place. Really frustrating. I must have gone, I don't know, four times over the last two years, and it is as bad as ever. But he refuses to try me on different tablets. I don't really trust him actually, and we never got on. It's important, isn't it, for the doctor to understand that it is my body! Hopeless.

Jesus’ warning points in the same direction. It is possible to speak to him, even hear him, then speak about him, speak in his name, and even work in his name, while remaining resistant to what he actually tells you to do! Ironically, those described in Matthew 7 are not lacking in activity. Their problem is not absence of religious work, but absence of relational surrender. At some point, Jesus is accepted in principle, while control is retained in practice. Commitment is measured, boundaries are drawn, and life proceeds along a personally chosen path. For each of us, that raises an unavoidable question.

If such a serious disconnect is possible, how can anyone be confident they are truly accepted and adopted and known by Jesus Christ? We know our own limitations. We know the beauty of the life Jesus calls us into, and we know how often our lives fall short of it. The gap is real and often uncomfortable. Can anyone truly know that they have been adopted by God? That they belong to him as his children? The apostle John writes his first letter precisely into this tension. Again and again he uses a phrase that carries both clarity and assurance ...

“This is how we know…”

... and later ...

“We know that…”

John does not anchor assurance in vague impressions or passing feelings. He directs attention toward realities that can be recognised in lived experience. His readers knew the calling of Christ, and they also knew their own inconsistency. They lived with the tension between the character of Jesus and the reality of their daily lives. John’s response is both practical and deeply reassuring. It unfolds like this...

Are you drawn toward the way of Jesus? Does his life genuinely attract you? Is there a desire to become like him? John writes in his first letter, 1 John 1:6-7 ...

If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another.

John is not demanding sinless perfection. A few lines later, he assumes that believers still sin. The question is not whether failure occurs, but what direction a life takes. When we become aware that we have drifted into shadow, do we turn again toward the light, or do we settle there? The first indicator is therefore orientation - a genuine attraction toward the light of Christ’s life, rather than a settled life shaped by self-direction.

Here John moves to something central. For a man so attuned to the importance of love, he is on occasions pretty blunt. Here are his words from 1 John 2:3–6.

We know that we have come to know him if we keep his commands… Whoever says, ‘I know him,’ but does not do what he commands is a liar… Whoever claims to live in him must live as Jesus did.

At first hearing, this sounds like a demanding standard. To live as Jesus lived. To obey all he taught. Yet John is not describing perfection. He is describing direction — a life increasingly shaped by Christ.

Then he makes this down to earth statement regarding easily assessed evidence in a couple of places in his letter - in chapter 2 verses 9 and 10, then again in chapter 3 verse 14.

Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates a brother or sister is still in the darkness. Anyone who loves their brother and sister lives in the light…” We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love each other.”

Evidently, love, for John, is not an optional extra. It is the visible sign that God’s life is present in the individual. And that is because he had experienced the life of God as love. So once more he states it with striking clarity in chapter 4 verse 20 ...

Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar.

How do you respond when your life is exposed to the light? Do you become defensive, evasive, or suddenly very busy with things that must get done? Do you try to maintain a self image which doesn't actually stand up to John's scrutiny? He says at the start of his letter in verse 8 ...

If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves…

Those who belong to Christ do not avoid moral clarity. They do not suppress the awareness that something needs attention in their lives. Instead, they bring it into the light. And John expects followers of Jesus to do just that. Which is why he continues immediately with pastoral assurance ...

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins… My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have an advocate with the Father…

The Christian life is not defined by the absence of failure, but by the presence of confession, restoration, and ongoing relationship with Christ. John writes as an elderly apostle who has seen much. He expects failure in those who truly follow Jesus. The question is always what follows failure. Does it lead to humility, confession, and renewed trust in Christ? Or does it lead to concealment, self-justification, and distance from God? Assurance, for John, is never built primarily on spiritual feelings. It is grounded elsewhere.

This is how we know that he lives in us... We know it by the Spirit he gave us.” This is how we know that we live in him and he in us... He has given us of his Spirit.”

Yet even here, John does not centre his argument on intensity of experience. He consistently returns to visible patterns of life. Trust in the love of God A growing desire to be like Jesus Increasing love for others A refusal of self-justification and a willingness to confess sin A life being reshaped by Christ’s example

It is worth saying clearly what this message is not.

It is not “try harder.” It is not “do more.” It is not “avoid enjoying yourself.”

The invitation of the gospel is something far deeper than effort. It is an invitation to rest in Christ, to remain attentive to him, to listen, to consider life in his light, to trust him, and to walk in obedience shaped by love. The same Jesus who speaks the searching words in Matthew 7 is the one who calls people into relationship — not performance, but a life with him.