Are You Walking in Truth? A Look at Three Lives That Still Speak
Long before online reviews existed, long before anyone could pull up a rating on their phone to decide whether a business was trustworthy, the Apostle John wrote a short but striking letter that functioned as exactly that — a permanent, public review of three men. That letter is 3 John, the shortest book in the New Testament in Greek, and it is raw, direct, and deeply personal. It names names. It pulls no punches. And nearly two thousand years later, it still has the power to stop us in our tracks and ask a question we may not want to answer: if someone were writing a letter like this about your life, what would it say?
Three Men, Three Reviews
The letter opens with warm words directed at a man named Gaius. John calls him a dear friend and expresses something that every parent, grandparent, and mentor understands deeply — that there is no greater joy than knowing the people you love are walking in truth. Gaius had earned a five-star review. Word had traveled back to John that this man was living the gospel out loud, not just professing it on Sundays but embodying it every single day. People noticed, and they talked.
Then there is Demetrius, who receives a brief but meaningful commendation. John essentially says: trust this man, he is worthy of your welcome. His character had been verified by multiple witnesses, including, as John puts it, the truth itself.
And then there is Diotrephes. His review is not favorable. He loved to be first. He spread malicious gossip about the apostles. He refused to welcome traveling ministers. He even went so far as to threaten excommunication for anyone in his congregation who dared to show hospitality to John's people. His pride had consumed him so thoroughly that he could not make room for anyone else — not even one of the last surviving men who had walked with Jesus Christ himself.
Three men. Three very different lives. One letter that still speaks.
What It Actually Means to Walk in Truth
Walking in truth is not simply agreeing with a set of doctrines. It is not checking a theological box or showing up to a church service. To walk in truth means that your life and your belief system are the same thing. There is no gap between who you are on Sunday morning and who you are on Monday at work, Friday night with friends, or Saturday afternoon at a backyard cookout.
It means you are the same person in public that you are in private. The same person your children see at home that your coworkers see at the office. The same person who prays in the quiet of an early morning that walks through the rest of the day. No mask. No performance. No inconsistency.
This is what made Gaius remarkable. He was not just saying the right things. He was living them. He had opened his home to traveling ministers at real cost to himself, providing hospitality in a world where there were no hotels, no easy accommodations for those spreading the gospel from town to town. His generosity was visible, tangible, and sacrificial. And because of it, those who received his hospitality became his partners in the work. He was not just supporting a ministry — he was part of it.
The Danger of a Life Wrapped Up in Itself
There is an old saying, difficult to trace to any single source, that goes like this: a man wrapped up in himself makes a very small package. That is Diotrephes in a single sentence.
His pride did not just make him ineffective. It made him destructive. He weaponized his influence. He used his position not to serve others but to protect his own status. And what lived in his heart eventually found its way out of his mouth in the form of malicious gossip against the very apostle who had walked with the Lord.
Pride has always been this way. It does not stay contained. It spreads. It silences others. It shuts doors that should be open and opens doors that should remain closed. The contrast between Gaius and Diotrephes is not subtle — it is the difference between a life poured out for others and a life hoarded for oneself.
The Questions Worth Sitting With
The letter closes with a word of peace, and that is appropriate. Even in the middle of conflict, even when there are hard things to say and hard people to confront, there is a peace available to those who are genuinely following Jesus. Not a shallow cheerfulness, but a deep, settled assurance that does not depend on circumstances.
But before we get to peace, there are some honest questions worth carrying into the quiet.
Does your life represent the life of Jesus, or does it represent your own preferences and comfort? When people observe how you treat your family, how you steward your resources, how you speak about others when they are not in the room — what do they see?
Are you generous with what God has placed in your hands? Everything we have is a blessing, not an entitlement. The question is not how much of it we give away, but whether our grip on it is open or closed.
Do you imitate what is good, or do you drift toward what is comfortable and familiar, even when it falls short of what God calls good?
And perhaps most importantly — are you all in, or are you playing church? There is a difference between believing that Jesus exists and actually jumping. Faith without action is not really faith at all. To believe in Christ, in the fullest sense, is to put your whole life into that belief. To jump.
A Life Worth Reviewing
The letter of 3 John is short enough to read in five minutes. But the questions it raises can take a lifetime to answer honestly. Gaius was faithful with what he had. Diotrephes was consumed with what he wanted. And somewhere between those two lives, most of us are working out which one we actually are.
The good news is that the same Spirit who inspired John to write those words is still at work today, still convicting, still transforming, still making it possible to walk in truth.
The question is whether we are willing to.
Long before online reviews existed, long before anyone could pull up a rating on their phone to decide whether a business was trustworthy, the Apostle John wrote a short but striking letter that functioned as exactly that — a permanent, public review of three men. That letter is 3 John, the shortest book in the New Testament in Greek, and it is raw, direct, and deeply personal. It names names. It pulls no punches. And nearly two thousand years later, it still has the power to stop us in our tracks and ask a question we may not want to answer: if someone were writing a letter like this about your life, what would it say?
Three Men, Three Reviews
The letter opens with warm words directed at a man named Gaius. John calls him a dear friend and expresses something that every parent, grandparent, and mentor understands deeply — that there is no greater joy than knowing the people you love are walking in truth. Gaius had earned a five-star review. Word had traveled back to John that this man was living the gospel out loud, not just professing it on Sundays but embodying it every single day. People noticed, and they talked.
Then there is Demetrius, who receives a brief but meaningful commendation. John essentially says: trust this man, he is worthy of your welcome. His character had been verified by multiple witnesses, including, as John puts it, the truth itself.
And then there is Diotrephes. His review is not favorable. He loved to be first. He spread malicious gossip about the apostles. He refused to welcome traveling ministers. He even went so far as to threaten excommunication for anyone in his congregation who dared to show hospitality to John's people. His pride had consumed him so thoroughly that he could not make room for anyone else — not even one of the last surviving men who had walked with Jesus Christ himself.
Three men. Three very different lives. One letter that still speaks.
What It Actually Means to Walk in Truth
Walking in truth is not simply agreeing with a set of doctrines. It is not checking a theological box or showing up to a church service. To walk in truth means that your life and your belief system are the same thing. There is no gap between who you are on Sunday morning and who you are on Monday at work, Friday night with friends, or Saturday afternoon at a backyard cookout.
It means you are the same person in public that you are in private. The same person your children see at home that your coworkers see at the office. The same person who prays in the quiet of an early morning that walks through the rest of the day. No mask. No performance. No inconsistency.
This is what made Gaius remarkable. He was not just saying the right things. He was living them. He had opened his home to traveling ministers at real cost to himself, providing hospitality in a world where there were no hotels, no easy accommodations for those spreading the gospel from town to town. His generosity was visible, tangible, and sacrificial. And because of it, those who received his hospitality became his partners in the work. He was not just supporting a ministry — he was part of it.
The Danger of a Life Wrapped Up in Itself
There is an old saying, difficult to trace to any single source, that goes like this: a man wrapped up in himself makes a very small package. That is Diotrephes in a single sentence.
His pride did not just make him ineffective. It made him destructive. He weaponized his influence. He used his position not to serve others but to protect his own status. And what lived in his heart eventually found its way out of his mouth in the form of malicious gossip against the very apostle who had walked with the Lord.
Pride has always been this way. It does not stay contained. It spreads. It silences others. It shuts doors that should be open and opens doors that should remain closed. The contrast between Gaius and Diotrephes is not subtle — it is the difference between a life poured out for others and a life hoarded for oneself.
The Questions Worth Sitting With
The letter closes with a word of peace, and that is appropriate. Even in the middle of conflict, even when there are hard things to say and hard people to confront, there is a peace available to those who are genuinely following Jesus. Not a shallow cheerfulness, but a deep, settled assurance that does not depend on circumstances.
But before we get to peace, there are some honest questions worth carrying into the quiet.
Does your life represent the life of Jesus, or does it represent your own preferences and comfort? When people observe how you treat your family, how you steward your resources, how you speak about others when they are not in the room — what do they see?
Are you generous with what God has placed in your hands? Everything we have is a blessing, not an entitlement. The question is not how much of it we give away, but whether our grip on it is open or closed.
Do you imitate what is good, or do you drift toward what is comfortable and familiar, even when it falls short of what God calls good?
And perhaps most importantly — are you all in, or are you playing church? There is a difference between believing that Jesus exists and actually jumping. Faith without action is not really faith at all. To believe in Christ, in the fullest sense, is to put your whole life into that belief. To jump.
A Life Worth Reviewing
The letter of 3 John is short enough to read in five minutes. But the questions it raises can take a lifetime to answer honestly. Gaius was faithful with what he had. Diotrephes was consumed with what he wanted. And somewhere between those two lives, most of us are working out which one we actually are.
The good news is that the same Spirit who inspired John to write those words is still at work today, still convicting, still transforming, still making it possible to walk in truth.
The question is whether we are willing to.
Melvin Vandiver
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