I am Diotrephes

Introduction: The Ghost of Diotrephes

I am starting a new series this morning called The Ghost of Diotrephes. Why don’t you say that with me? The Ghost of Diotrephes. And you might be thinking, “The ghost of what?” And the answer is this: Diotrephes. The pronunciation kind of varies. I said for years growing up “Diotrephes.” And there are still pastors that say that, and it could be, but I believe it’s “Diotrephes.” So I hope I am consistent with how I pronounce it this morning, but I hope it doesn’t throw you off.

But if you’ve never heard of him, you’re in good company. Diotrephes has a massive one appearance in all of Scripture, and it’s in 3 John. If you don’t know 3 John, it’s the Bible’s shortest book. It’s 219 words in the original Greek - it’s like it could almost be an extended tweet. You could read the whole thing and your coffee won’t even be cold. But it’s this tiny letter near the end of your Bible. It’s written by this old apostle named John, and he’s writing to a church. He names one man in particular in his letter, and this is what he says about him. This is 3 John, verse 9:

“I wrote to the church, but Diotrephes, who loves to be first, will not welcome us.”

I love it. That’s it. Here we are 2,000 years later, after Diotrephes was alive, and we know one thing about him precisely. We don’t know his hometown. We don’t know his occupation. We don’t know anything else. All we know is this: he loved to be first.

Think about that - like your whole life summed up in one sentence. Assuming he made it to heaven, which we would probably think he probably would, 2,000 years later he might be observing what we’re doing now, and he’s like, “The whole of humanity has known precisely one thing about me, and it’s that I like to put myself first.” So I don’t know - if you think about your own life and what you would want to be known for 2,000 years from now, it’s probably not that. “Preston loved to put himself first.” But that’s almost all that we know about this man.

We Are Diotrephes Too

It’s interesting that when I read this verse and was preparing this series, I thought - let me tell you what it’s like to be a pastor, can I? Sometimes you come across certain verses that are just so delicious because you think, “I am going to be able to tell it to the people that bug me.” You know, because it’s like, “Oh, some people think it’s all about them. Some people think church should be all about them. It’s all just me, me, me, me, me.” And I was ready to preach that sermon.

But as I studied it more, and I prayed about it more, and I spent more time with God about it, I got a realization. I’m like, “You know what? I think this verse might be about me just as much as it is about you.” Because I like to be first. Am I the only one? I like to be first. And if I’m not careful, I can put myself in that place too.

I love whenever I’m out there and someone introduces me, and someone says about the church, “Oh, our pastor is so cool and so funny.” And I’m like, “Yeah.” This feels good. There’s just something delicious - I love when I go to another church and I get special parking because I’m a pastor. I like when I have a special entrance to go into. I don’t have to walk in with the common folk.

It’s funny, we were on vacation this past week, and it’s funny whenever you’re on vacation and someone texts you like, “Pastor David, I just want you to know Sunday service was incredible.” And I’m thinking, “Yeah, but how incredible?” Because I want the church to do great, but I just want the church to do extra great because I’m here. You know what I mean? There’s just something nice about putting yourself first. There’s something about being recognized. There’s something about being ahead of other people. It just feels good.

It feels good to be the top realtor in your firm. It feels good to have the honor roll student. I wouldn’t know - I assume it feels really good. And all the other parents know it. Everybody knows that your kid is so great, and you get to put the sign in your yard, and that feels great, because it feels good to be exceptional. It feels good to be the favorite grandparent. And yes, it’s a competition. It feels good to win the merge onto the highway. Like when I’m going up on the I-25 and I can gun it and beat the other loser - love it.

It was funny, we were in Disneyland this past week. We bought what’s called the Lightning Pass. Anyone know the Lightning Pass? You can buy the Lightning Pass and then book your rides, and then you get to go and pass everyone in the line. And you just walk past this whole line, all these miserable people, and I say nothing, but I’m thinking, “Later, losers.” It’s just nice.

And so I hope we can just find common ground before we get into the rest of the series. It’s nice to be first. It’s nice to get the best parking spot. There’s just something nice about being first.

The Spirit of Diotrephes

I’m calling it “the ghost of Diotrephes” because Diotrephes has been dead for 2,000 years, but I think his spirit and his motivation can live in all of us, and I think unchecked it can ruin a lot of people’s lives. I have been a pastor long enough to see self-centeredness destroy marriages. I’ve seen self-centeredness destroy friendships. I’ve seen self-centeredness destroy families.

And here’s what I’ve noticed in counseling: nobody comes and says, “Pastor David, the problem is I just love being first.” I’ve never heard it one time. No one has ever said that to me. Because it doesn’t seem like a spiritual problem. That just seems normal. That’s our regular operating lane. It’s like our built-in instructions - of course I need to be worrying about myself here.

But did you know that Scripture actually has a lot to say about your desire to be first? Let me give you a couple of examples. Philippians chapter 2, verse 3:

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves.”

Paul is saying here that “me first” isn’t a personality quirk. Paul is calling it “selfish ambition.” Look at what James says, James chapter 3, verse 16:

“For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you will find disorder and every evil practice.”

Where you find people putting themselves first, you will find chaos - that’s what he’s saying. When “me first” moves in, things start falling apart. The marriage falls apart. The family falls apart. The church falls apart.

For the next three weeks - this is a quick series, three weeks - we’re going to be talking about where it comes from, what it does to us, what it does to others, and lastly, of course, the cure. And I’m just going to give away the ending right here at the beginning: the cure for “me first” isn’t trying harder. It’s getting a revelation of the love of the Father. You don’t have to just focus on yourself less. What you need to do is understand how loved you are. And then you become content being second in line, third in line, fourth in line.

My title, if you’re taking notes this morning, is this: I Am Diotrephes.

Let’s pray. Heavenly Father, we’re so grateful for you. We’re grateful for your kingdom. We’re grateful for your church. We’re grateful for your word, and we ask that you would speak to us, and that you would give us the ability to hear from you, and to listen, and to obey. And it’s in your Son’s name we pray. Amen.

Point One: You Can’t Tell Yourself Who You Are

Okay, I’ve got three points for you this morning. If you’re taking notes, the first one - this one might sound weird - is this: you can’t tell yourself who you are.

Y’all know I give myself one point for philosophy, and then I go practical. But this is the philosophy point. I want you to think about this: you have never seen your own face. Like, in this entire room, the one face that you cannot look at is yourself. You can look in a mirror. You can take a picture of yourself. You can look in horror, like I do, when I see a video of myself. But you can’t see your own face. That’s just the nature of it - because you’re so close to it, you can’t even see it. Even if you did a selfie right now, that’s not your face. In fact, it’s a mirror of you, which is pretty weird - it’s a flipped version of you.

So the only way to see what other people see when they look at you is to look through something outside of you. It could be a mirror, it could be a screen, it could be a photo. And here’s my point: it’s not just your face. I would say that you can’t understand yourself without something from outside of you.

Culture says the opposite. Culture says, “You just got to look inward. You just got to find yourself within yourself.” Like, “Look inside, Simba.” Just look in the mirror - “Gosh, you’re a winner, you can do it.” Just talk yourself into how you see yourself.

Here’s the truth: you can’t. You can’t validate yourself. You can’t judge your own qualities. Let me give you some examples.

Let’s say you’re a writer, and you’re writing a book. Did you know that you can’t proofread your own book? Because you can’t see your own typos - nor can you see your own brilliance. You need an outside voice to come in and tell you about your writing.

Did you know you can’t judge your own sense of humor? If I told a thousand jokes up here and nobody laughed, I’m not funny. It doesn’t matter if I think I’m funny. If nobody laughs, you need a word from the outside. And that’s true for a thousand things.

Let’s say you’re a painter, and every time someone sees your painting, without fail they say, “Hot garbage. Total trash.” You wouldn’t say, “Oh, that’s okay because I like it.” You would quit. Because you’re not an artist until someone tells you you’re an artist. It’s not about what you see in yourself; it’s about what comes from the outside.

Let’s say you’re a musician, and everyone says, “You are the worst musician I’ve ever heard in my whole life.” And you’re like, “I think I’m great.” That’s cool for you to think that. But you’re not. Validation only comes from the outside.

Let’s say every time I preach, you come up to me and say, “Swing and miss - you’ll get them next time, buddy.” I would quit. It doesn’t matter if I think I’m a good preacher. And you might be thinking, “Oh, you should get your validation from God.” Don’t get ahead of me.

Here’s my point: you can’t validate yourself. Self-approval is not good enough. “Oh, good job, me. Great work, buddy.” It’s like telling yourself a joke - it won’t be funny because you see your own punchline. And the same is true for you in understanding who you are. The answer to who you are is not found just looking down, journaling. You can’t journal long enough to understand yourself.

If you never had any contact with any other force outside of yourself, you would have no idea if you’re a kind person. You would have no idea if you’re a loving person. You would have no idea if you’re an angry person. Because the voice has to come from outside. We need someone to come and say to us, “Your life counts.”

We all search for that validation in different places. A lot of people search for it from work: “Look at my title. Look at my paycheck. Look at the plaque on my office.” That’s how they know who they are, because the mirror they’re looking at is their work. Some people find it through their kids - you perceive yourself the way people perceive your children. Their report card becomes your report card; if they get detention, you feel like you just got detention. Some of us see ourselves through a parent, and we’re 40 years old, still trying to earn an “I’m proud of you” that’s never coming.

But it’s how you see yourself. And all those things are good things - work matters, kids matter - but none of those can carry the weight of telling you who you are.

A lot of us think what we want to hear is “good job.” What we really want to hear is, “You are loved.” That’s the real message. You need it. I need it. Diotrephes needs it. So the question is never, “Do you need a word from the outside?” The question is always, “Whose voice do you trust?”

That’s number one: you can’t tell yourself who you are.

Point Two: Attention Is Not Love

Number two is this: attention is not love. Can all the young people repeat that after me? Attention is not love.

What’s funny is that attention and love can feel identical for like five seconds. “Oh my god, someone liked my post. Oh, I’m so popular. Everybody noticed how pretty I look.” Or, “Everybody clapped when we won.” You get some attention, and it satisfies that craving on the inside of you for like five seconds. The problem is it only lasts as long as they’re looking at you. The second they look at someone else, the satisfaction goes away.

No one shows us this better in the Bible than a man named King Saul. King Saul, if you don’t know, was the king before David. He was the people’s king - tall, handsome, the people’s choice. Early on, the people loved Saul. We all think of Saul as kind of a cautionary tale, a tragedy, but early on, people loved Saul. Saul was awesome.

But then, as time goes on, Saul starts to get overshadowed a little bit by somebody else - David. There’s this famous moment in Scripture where the army returns from war, and the crowds flood the streets, singing and dancing the praises of their incredible military might and victories. Look at the song they’re singing, 1 Samuel chapter 18, verse 7:

“Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands.”

Oh my god. Keep in mind, he’s still in the song - they’re still celebrating Saul. The problem is they’re just celebrating someone else ten times more. That comparison poisons Saul for the rest of his life. He never recovers from the song. That song becomes the anchoring identity he can’t escape until he finally dies.

That’s the problem with living off applause - there’s always someone doing more. No matter what you do, there’s someone who does it better than you. There’s always a better musician. Pastor Dharius - phenomenal musician, not the best, but good. Jesse - phenomenal musician, not the best, but pretty good. There’s always going to be a better preacher. I’m not even the best preacher on staff. There’s always a better preacher. There’s always a bigger church. There’s always a more successful photographer. There’s always a mom whose kids are more put together than yours.

It doesn’t mean that the approval of people doesn’t feel good. It does. But you could say it like this: the approval of people is great candy and terrible food. It’s good - I love when people recognize how cool I am. “Wow, you’re leading that church now?” It feels good. But if you try to live off it, like it tastes great, gives you a sugar high, but you can’t live on it. If all you eat is candy, you will die with your mouth full. Because it’s a fun treat, but it’s not what sustains us.

Let me just say this: social media makes this a thousand times worse. Back in the day, you could just be dumb and happy. You’re just a plumber - life’s good, you got a house, everything’s cool, you got a TV, everything’s fine. Now you have to see that your friends are making posts like yours and they get more likes than you. It’s brutal out there, because everywhere you go you’ve got this little rectangle in your pocket that reminds you that you’re not the best. It reminds you that people like you, but they don’t like you like they like other people. And if you let it, this thing will kill your joy.

Social media is cool, I’m all about it, but you just got to understand there will always be a bigger fish. There will always be someone more successful, better looking, more popular, a better preacher, a better musician than you. And if you let it become your food, you’ll starve.

Let me remind you that I’m preaching to myself here. I can pour my whole week into a message - I’m writing, I’m praying, I’m like, “God, give me a message.” I believe every word of it. I love it, I’m passionate about it. And five minutes after I hop off this stage, I’m already thinking, “Now, what do people think?” “Well, my joke didn’t land.” “Well, they don’t think I’m funny. They don’t think I’m cool.” And then I’ll go online, and it’s like, “Oh, this guy says I’m such an idiot. They can’t believe they let a guy with tattoos on stage.” And it’ll steal my joy. Because it’s not something that’s meant to be an anchoring principle on how I see myself.

Thankfully, I have grown in my discipleship to Jesus over the years, and now I understand attention is not the same thing as love. Sometimes I get attention - they make a post: “David, your post popped off on Instagram.” Okay, cool. Sometimes they post something I like ten times more, and it gets four likes. Okay, it’s fine. Because you think what you want is attention, but what you really want is the security that comes from knowing deep on the inside that you are good. That what you have, what you do, is enough. That you’re loved not because of what you do - you’re loved because of who you are.

That’s number one, you can’t tell yourself who you are. Number two, attention is not love.

Point Three: You Are Who the Father Says You Are

Number three, and this is my third and final point: you are who the Father says you are.

There is exactly one voice in the entire universe that can satisfy that desire to finally feel okay. You can spend your entire life trying to be successful enough to feel okay, and it never will happen. I was talking to my friend Jared Lee at the Abundant in El Paso - they’ve got like 20,000 people that go to their church on a weekend - and he says, “David, I just want you to know the comparison thing doesn’t get better, it gets worse.” Because you always think, “Man, if we had a thousand people, then I’d be satisfied.” No, you won’t. “Man, if I just finally cracked six figures, then I’d be happy.” No, you won’t. “If I could finally crack a hundred likes on Instagram, I’d be okay.” No, you won’t. Because all of those things you think are going to satisfy something that can only come from the Father. His love is not about what you do - it’s about who you are.

And luckily, you don’t have to go digging, because he tells you what he thinks about you. Look at this, 1 John chapter 3, verse 1:

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are.”

Lavished. Isn’t that interesting? And catch that last line: “that is what we are.” So everything hangs on that. It’s not, “Oh, something we’re working towards.” It’s not, “Someday if I hold it together, then maybe his love would be lavished.” No - that is what we are. Right now, present tense, already true.

And look at that word “lavished.” I think that word is so cool, because it’s not like God is thinking, “Fine, I guess you can be my kid.” No - lavished means over the top. It’s like running over the bowl. The Father isn’t embarrassed to overdo it in his love for you. He wants to pursue you, and he wants to lavish his love on you.

When I say good night to my daughter Grace, she comes over - I sit in a Lazy Boy, that’s just the kind of guy I am - and Grace comes over to me. “Say good night to your dad.” She leans over to me, and I try to kiss her a hundred times. I kiss her on the head, on the arms, on the back, on the cheeks. I’m trying to kiss her a hundred times. And after about fifteen, she’s like, “I get it, Dad, I get it.” But I don’t care - I want to go over the top in showing this precious little daughter how much I love her, how crazy I am about her. Not because of what she does, but because of who she is.

That’s how the Father is. He’s not kissing you once and saying, “Yeah, you’re all right.” He’s lavishing his love on you. And he’s not kissing you because of what you did - he’s kissing you because of who you are. So if you have a good day, if you have a bad day, it’s still a hundred kisses. No matter what. Because he doesn’t love you based on what you did.

Now, I’m not saying obedience is pointless. I’m not saying God is indifferent in any way to how you live. In fact, the Bible says the exact opposite. Hebrews chapter 13, verse 16:

“And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.”

God is pleased - your obedience genuinely delights the Father. You can do something that makes God happy. I believe you can also do something that disappoints the Father. But let me say it like this: your obedience can please the Father, but it can never produce the Father’s love.

Sometimes my daughter Grace comes back from school, and she’s drawn me a picture - it’s a horse, allegedly. I’m like, “Okay, beautiful,” and I put it on the fridge, and I love it. But that drawing is not the reason she’s my daughter. She was mine before she could ever hold a crayon. She was already mine. And even if she draws me zero pictures ever again for the rest of her life, she’s still mine, and I’m still crazy about her. The drawing pleases me, but the drawing doesn’t make her mine. That’s how it is with the Father - he’s pleased with what you do, but he loves you for who you are.

One more verse for you, Zephaniah chapter 3, verse 17:

“The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”

Did you know that God sings over you? He sings over you. I don’t know the last time you’ve honestly just sung. People don’t sing because they have to - well, some of y’all do in church, we’re working on it - but outside of church, when’s the last time you just sang? It’s not something forced; it’s just an expression of joy. And that’s how the Father feels about you.

I want to make one more comparison: Saul chased the song of the people, and the song of the people destroyed him. It was never enough. But the Father is also singing a song, and it’s not based on what you do - it’s a song that has already been sung and is still being sung over you.

Conclusion: Living from Approval, Not for Approval

Anytime you see yourself reaching for, “Man, I need to be first,” “I need people to recognize that I’m successful,” “I need people to realize I’m cool” - just understand what the underlying question is. And the question almost always is this: Who am I? Am I enough? Do I have what it takes? And you can’t perform your way to an answer to that question. You need an outside word to tell you who you are.

Can I tell you what’s actually true of you? You are not what you have. You are not what you do. You are not your worst moment. You are not your best moment. You are not what people say about you. You are not what people post about you. You are what the Father says you are.

And that doesn’t stop you from working - but it changes what you work for. You stop living for approval, and you start living from approval. That’s the idea I’m hoping to get into your head for three weeks: you are who the Father says you are. Opinions will come and go. Success will come and go. Money will come and go. Friends will come and go. But you never have to wonder if you have what it takes, if you’re enough - because your first identity is not what you do, it’s who you are.

So back to Diotrephes. We’re talking about him 2,000 years later, again, which is very unfair - I acknowledge that, sorry. He loved to be first. But if you can find your satisfaction in the Father’s love, then you don’t need to be first. And let me say this too: in the kingdom of God, being first isn’t even the goal. Why? Because the first shall be last, and the last shall be first.

And of course, that brings us to Jesus. Jesus teaches us through what he says, but he also teaches us through what he does and what he doesn’t do. I find it significant that Jesus didn’t need to be in first place. He was God on the throne, the triune God - the Creator, the Almighty - comes down, and he doesn’t have to be first place. He doesn’t get up in some fancy hotel; it’s the manger, the barn. Nor did Jesus need other people to tell him who he was. He wasn’t like, “Oh shucks, the people don’t like me, I must not be doing a good job.” He didn’t worry about it. All he needed was one word from the Father: “This is my Son.” And from that, he has the strength and the identity to change the world.

Jesus models for us that even when circumstances change, even when opinions change, you can be okay, secure in the Father’s love.

Closing Statement

Diotrephes is remembered by one sentence: he loved to be first. And that same tendency lives in us.

One: you can’t tell yourself who you are. You need a word from the outside to tell you who you are.

Two: attention is not love. The approval of people is great candy and terrible food.

Three: you are who the Father says you are. Your obedience can please the Father, but it can never produce the Father’s love. He has lavished it on us already.