There’s a universal parenting instinct that echoes across generations: “Stay close.” Parents say it at crowded amusement parks, busy stores, and unfamiliar places. It’s not because we inherently believe our children are bad or that danger lurks around every corner. Rather, we understand a fundamental truth—proximity breeds safety. When we can see our children, when they remain within reach, we believe they’re protected.
This simple parenting principle reveals a profound spiritual truth about our relationship with God.
The Power of Proximity
The Apostle John, writing in his first epistle, uses a powerful word when addressing believers: “remain.” Some translations use “abide.” Both point to the same essential concept—staying close to Jesus. In 1 John 2:28, he writes: “So now, little children, remain in him so that when he appears, we may have confidence and not be ashamed before him at his coming.”
Remaining isn’t passive. It’s an active choice to stay near, to keep our eyes fixed on Christ, to let His presence dictate our decisions and direction. Just as children who stay close to their parents navigate safely through crowds, believers who remain in Christ navigate safely through life’s storms.
And make no mistake—storms are certain. You’re either headed into one, in the middle of one, or coming out of one. That’s the reality of life in a broken world. But when we remain focused on Jesus, when we stay where we can “see” Him in everything we do, those storms lose their power to destroy us.
The Family of God
When we remain in Christ, we’re not just staying close to a distant deity—we’re living as part of a family. And families operate differently than country clubs. In a country club, if someone stops showing up, it might go unnoticed. But in a family? When someone falls out of the circle, everyone knows. Someone calls. Someone checks in. Someone cares.
The church—the true, universal body of Christ—is meant to function as a family, not a collection of competing organizations. It shouldn’t matter what building you worship in or what denominational name hangs on the door. If you’re God’s child, you’re part of the family. Location doesn’t cause division in biological families; why should it in the spiritual one?
This family perspective changes everything. When we see someone drifting, our response shouldn’t be judgment but concern and love. After all, families pursue the lost member, not to condemn them, but to bring them safely home.
The Gift of Righteousness
First John 2:29 reminds us: “If you know that he is righteous, you know this as well. Everyone who does what is right has been born of him.”
Here’s the truth many of us forget: our righteousness isn’t earned. It’s given. We didn’t become God’s children because we were good enough, smart enough, or spiritual enough. We became His children because He chose to adopt us, to give us His righteousness as a gift.
Children receive things not because they deserve them, but because they belong to the family. Your righteousness, your standing before God, exists not because of your performance but because of Christ’s finished work on the cross. When we remain in Him, we remember this truth. When we drift, we fall back into the trap of trying to earn what’s already been freely given.
Seeing His Love
In 1 John 3:1, we’re invited to do something transformative: “See what great love the Father has given us, that we should be called God’s children, and we are.”
See what He’s done. Look at it. Focus on it. Remember it.
There’s a powerful photograph of a nine-year-old American boy handing a shoebox gift to a young gypsy boy in Romania. The American child, bundled against the sleet, represents abundance. The Romanian child, holding up pants too big for him, standing in mud, represents desperate poverty. Yet even the American child, despite later losing many comforts when his family’s circumstances changed, still had more than that Romanian child would likely ever know.
This image serves as a stark reminder: even on our worst days, if we know Christ, we have more than we deserve. God didn’t have to love us. He didn’t have to save us. He didn’t have to make us His children. He chose to.
When we remain focused on Jesus, we remember His goodness. We remember that if He never did another thing for us, He’s already done more than we could ever deserve. This perspective transforms complaints into gratitude and entitlement into humility.
Different by Design
The world didn’t know Jesus because He was different. And here’s the reality: “The reason the world does not know us is that it didn’t know him” (1 John 3:1).
You’re supposed to be different. Not obnoxiously so, not self-righteously so, but genuinely so. You’re a square peg in a round world, and that’s exactly as it should be. The things of God seem foolish to those who don’t know Him. Your faith, your hope, your joy in the midst of trials—these things won’t always make sense to the world around you.
But that difference should be marked by love, not judgment. Jesus didn’t condemn the woman caught in adultery; He loved her and then called her to a better life: “Go and sin no more.” When we remain in Christ, we develop His mannerisms, His way of dealing with people. We remember that behavior isn’t identity—that people are created in God’s image, even when they’re covered in the mud of their choices.
Children Now
Perhaps the most powerful truth in this passage is the immediacy of our adoption: “Dear friends, we are God’s children now.”
Not later. Not after you clean up your act. Not after you prove yourself worthy. Now.
Every promise in Scripture is available to you now. God doesn’t want you to wait until heaven to experience His goodness, His provision, His peace. Yes, heaven will be infinitely better—no more pain, no more tears, no more death. But God wants to help you today. He wants you to live in the abundance of being His child right now.
The Invitation
So the question remains: Are you staying close? Can you “see” Jesus in your daily decisions? Are you remaining in Him, or have you drifted to the edges?
If you’ve drifted, the good news is simple: He hasn’t moved. The Father is right where He’s always been, arms open, waiting for you to come close again. Proximity breeds safety. Stay close, stay where you can see Him, and watch how everything changes.
You’re His child now. Live like it.