OVER THE YEARS, as a seminary professor, I’ve heard story after disheartening story of congregations racked by conflict. Conflict between staff. Conflict between members of the congregation. Conflict between members and staff. Misunderstandings and miscommunications that escalate out of control. Abuses of power at every level of the organization.

On the surface, the issues at stake may sometimes seem trivial to an outsider who doesn’t share the history. Nevertheless, each issue may be of enormous symbolic significance to someone, threatening their whole sense of belonging and trust. Each party to the conflict may be angry and confused: Why don’t they get it? What’s wrong with them? And unfortunately, no one is listening carefully and calmly enough to truly understand the thoughts, feelings, and perspectives of others.

We see church conflict throughout the New Testament, and John’s letters are no exception. He writes to a community that had been split by controversy, giving what encouragement he can to those who were left behind when the instigators left. As we’ve seen, he warns his readers about false teaching and advises them to get in the habit of putting what they hear to the test.

Now we’re at the threshold of what may be the most beloved and best-known verses in 1 John, in which the apostle reminds his readers again of Jesus’ command to love one another, backed by the declaration that love is of the very nature of God. At first, his words about love may seem like a sudden change of subject. Hasn’t he been talking about who is from God and who isn’t? Hasn’t he been making a clear-cut distinction between who has the Spirit of truth and who’s motivated by worldly falsehood? Don’t those sound like fighting words?

Perhaps. But that’s precisely why we need to read what John says in the context of Jesus’ command to love.

IS THERE ANYONE who doesn’t recognize the NIKE logo, the swoosh that adorns shoes and sportswear around the globe? It’s one of the most recognizable brands in the world, worth billions of dollars. Though the company was founded in 1964 under a different name, they officially became Nike in 1971; it’s the name of the Greek goddess of victory who was revered by athletes. The company’s take-no-prisoners culture of victory is reflected both in their slogan, “Just do it,” and in their corporate mantra, “Crush the competition.”

When used in its verb form, the Greek word nike means to prevail, be it on the battlefield or in Olympic competition. It’s the word John uses in 1 John 4:4 to say that his readers have “overcome” the secessionists, the people whose ideas and values were more from the world than from God. It’s also the word John uses to translate the last thing Jesus says to his disciples in John’s gospel before his arrest: “I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Notice, however, the strange nature of this “overcoming,” this victory. His disciples may have dreamed of the day that Jesus, the most powerful man they had ever known, would use that power to rid Palestine of the Romans. But that wasn’t the plan, and the disciples were slow to realize it. This same Jesus, the one who could calm the storm and raise the dead, had just knelt before each one of them to wash their grimy feet, to give them an unforgettable example of humble and loving service.

The one who had overcome the world was also about to allow himself to be arrested and crucified. In John’s account of the arrest, it’s clear that Jesus is in complete command of the situation and goes with the soldiers willingly, in obedience to the Father. It’s a panicked Peter who starts flailing away with a sword, not Jesus. And surely, after Easter, the disciples would understand in a completely new way that Jesus had won a great victory on the cross. But the victory wasn’t just over death. Even before the cross, Jesus had already overcome the world through a life of utter obedience.

Thus, when John tells his readers that they have overcome, it’s not the kind of victory celebrated by sportswriters and war historians. Indeed, I imagine that his readers didn’t consider themselves to be “victors” at all. The situation they had just been through in their community had been a difficult one. They probably still felt some of the tension of the conflict, the sting of people leaving, people they once considered to be their sisters and brothers.

There were no songs of victory to be written, no medals to be awarded. All John’s readers had done was to hold fast to what they knew to be true about Jesus, despite pressure from their neighbors, despite fine-sounding arguments that threatened to chip away at their confidence.

In the process, did they get mad, scream, throw furniture? John, of course, doesn’t say, and I can’t guarantee that they didn’t. But somehow I doubt it. I imagine that their victory was of the quieter kind. I imagine that they prevailed, not with verbal weapons of war but with a calm determination not to let go of the truth.

I SAY ALL this because the corporate culture of Nike reflects values that are already intrinsic to much of American culture: we want to win, whether on the basketball court or in the boardroom. Even church conflict can feel like a zero-sum game, in which there must be winners and losers.

It’s possible to read John’s words as supporting an us versus them mentality, playing into our need to emerge victorious in every argument. But that’s why we need to remember how the related themes of light and love run like scarlet threads throughout the letter. Those who live in the light love their brothers and sisters in a tangible way.

So yes, John’s readers are the victors in the contest that split the community. But as he’s about to remind them, the context of that victory is love.