I LOVE MY wife. I love my children. I love my grandchildren. That doesn’t mean that I constantly daydream about them or feel all ooey-gooey and sentimental whenever I’m around them. But we are bonded in such a way that I care about their well-being and happiness; I want the best for them and will do my part, even if it means sacrifice. And I hope that they would all be able to say, without reservation, that they know I love them in this way.

But have I loved any of them perfectly? Have I loved anyone perfectly? Not even close. I’ve said things I shouldn’t have. I’ve done things for which I never apologized. And more generally, to draw on what the apostle Paul teaches about love in 1 Corinthians 13, I know that I am more than capable of being impatient and unkind. I can get mad easily. Keeping a record of wrongs? You bet; I can hold a grudge.

I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that many of you can say something similar (not about me, but about yourself). Does anyone other than God love perfectly? I doubt it.

Why, then, does the apostle John seem to suggest that “perfect love” not only exists but should be characteristic of Christians? You may already be familiar with what he says in 1 John 4:18:

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. (NIV)

Some of us have been raised in homes, families, and even churches that bred a kind of anxious perfectionism in us. We had the sense that if we didn’t perform up to the expectations of others, we would feel the sting of their disapproval or rejection. Love and a sense of belonging were contingent, conditional. We feared how people would respond if we didn’t get it right; we feared losing their love and acceptance. Over time, we internalized their scrutiny, becoming the ones to judge and scold ourselves even when no one else is around.

Imagine, then, the kind of nameless anxiety that John’s words and the phrase “perfect love” might trigger in someone with perfectionistic tendencies. Yes, if I’m being honest with myself, I do live with fear, they might reflect silently. I fear punishment, rejection. So is John telling me that if I were more loving, I wouldn’t be afraid anymore? I guess that’s my goal then. I have to become perfect in love, perfectly and unfailingly loving.

As many who wrestle with perfectionism might tell you, however, that’s a losing battle. That reading of John only puts a religious gloss on the struggles we already have, piling guilt on top of shame, increasing not decreasing our insecurity.

But that’s not what John means. If we want to hear him without filtering what he says through our anxious uncertainties, we need to remember three words: context, context, and — you guessed it — context.

FIRST, REMEMBER THAT what John has been trying to do in his letter is reassure his readers, in the wake of recent controversies, that their identity and belonging in Christ is secure. He is not chiding them for being fearful, nor holding up a standard of perfection that they must meet in order to quell their anxiety.

Second, to what “fear” is John referring? Clearly, it’s the fear of punishment. But what punishment? What makes the most sense is to read verse 18 in light of what he’s just said in verse 17:

This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus.

John is not talking about fear in the abstract. Rather, the controversies that split the community left some of his readers in doubt of their eternal destiny. It’s easy to imagine how, as the arguments grew more intense, the secessionists insisted that those who didn’t agree with them were in some kind of spiritual jeopardy.

Don’t worry, John tells them. Here’s how you can tell who is born of God and who isn’t, who’s abiding in Christ and who isn’t. It’s partly a matter of belief: you have to hold to the gospel of Jesus as the Son of God and our Savior who came, lived, and died in the flesh. But it’s also a matter of behavior: who loves their brother and sister? Who sees a need and reaches out in some tangible way? That’s the mark of a true disciple of Jesus: the obedience to his command to love one another.

Thus, John points to the love that already exists between his readers both to draw a contrast with the secessionists who left the community and to reassure them that they are in right relationship with God.

But does he then insist that their love for one another needs to perfect or flawless in order to know that their eternal destiny is secure? Is that what they have to do to be able to have full confidence on the day of judgment?

This is the third point, and by now you might already anticipate it. Remember that John has referred twice to God’s love being “made complete” in us, both in 1 John 4:12 and in verse 17, the verse we just read. The verb John uses suggests something that has reached maturity or achieved its goal. When he then says in verse 18 that “The one who fears is not made perfect in love,” it’s the same verb, though the New International Version (NIV) chooses to translate it differently from verses 12 and 17. Moreover, the adjective “perfect” in the phrase “perfect love” is from the same root as the verb: John is not speaking of flawless love, but love that’s reached its intended goal.

Thus, for example, in contrast with the NIV, the Common English Bible is consistent in translating “made perfect,” “been perfected,” or “perfect” in verses 12, 17, and 18. Going the other way, Eugene Peterson, in The Message, is also consistent in mostly avoiding the language of perfection. He mentions “perfect love” once in verse 12, but otherwise uses the phrases “becomes complete,” “becomes mature,” “well-formed,” and “fully-formed” instead.

God is love, John insists. We’ve seen that love demonstrated in the flesh through the life and death of Jesus. We are the children of God, and children who truly know the love, grace, and mercy of their heavenly Father don’t fear divine judgment or punishment.

That’s already a lot for John to say. But he is saying more. The goal of God’s love — its “perfection,” if you will — is for it to be embodied in the relationship between his children. John isn’t saying that we have to be flawless in our love. He’s pointing to our love for one another as evidence that God does in fact abide in us, that we are living out what God intended. We can see God at work in us and among us.

And for that reason, we don’t need to fear.