Lots of polls have been taken over the years asking Americans whether we believe in God. Over ninety percent say they do. But, really, what does that mean? I mean, after all, what’s the downside to answering a telephone poll and saying you believe in God? It doesn’t mean you’re committed to anything, or that you’ll feel compelled to act differently or think differently. It’s the easy, safe answer, and I’m sure a lot of people just view it as hedging their bets.

I’m sure that most of the people who say they believe in God would also say they love God. I mean, if you’re going to say you believe in the Creator of the Universe, you’d better be sure you’re on God’s good side, right? Occasionally you might run into someone who says that he believes, but thinks God is a jerk, but not too often. So, I think it’s safe to assume that the vast majority of Americans would say that they believe in God and love God. I mean, why not? It’s a safe, easy answer.

It would be interesting to see what the response would be if the pollsters asked another follow-up question. I’d like them to ask this: "All you people who answered ‘yes’ to whether you love God, do you love one another?" Hmmm.

Our reading from the First Letter of John talks a lot about love, beginning with a statement that is so easy for us to take for granted, but that we should never take for granted, or get used to, or stop giving thanks for. It is the simple statement that "God is love." Before we go on, let’s take a minute to discuss what we mean by "love" in this context. It is the Greek word "agape," and it is not a feeling. That’s so hard for us to grasp because we so often use ‘love’ to mean attraction or warm feelings or satisfaction: "I love ice cream." In the Bible, love means a commitment, a commitment to the well-being of the loved one, and a willingness to sacrifice for that commitment. A commitment to the well-being of the loved one and a willingness to sacrifice for that commitment — without expectation of anything in return. It is not an exchange, it’s not about "me." This is a hard concept for us to grasp in our world of exchanges masquerading as love, give-and-take, I’ll meet your need so you can meet mine. But it is absolutely crucial for us lovers of God to understand what real love means.

So, in our reading we hear this: "In this is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins." God loves us first and sacrifices for that love, for that commitment to our well-being.

Now that’s pretty wonderful! That’s comforting and easy. It feels good. We can just sit here and bask in God’s love. Thanks, God!

But then the text goes to meddling a bit, well, a lot, actually. "There is no fear in love," it says, "but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. . . ." Well, that makes sense, I suppose. If I say that I love you (or God) because I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t, then I’m really attending to my own needs, not yours, right? That’s not "commitment to your well-being with no expectation of anything in return." "We love" John says, not because we’re afraid of going to hell, but "because [God] first loved us."

So, our motivation for loving God can be one thing, and one thing only: to respond to God’s love for us. Let me tell you something, that is going to mess up the polls, and it very well could diminish church attendance. Because, sadly, we both know that lots of people in the poll, and, I’m sorry to say, lots of people in churches, don’t really believe that God has loved them. They don’t think they have anything to be grateful for. They’ve answered the poll, or gone to church, to hedge their bets, to avoid hell; they’ve answered, or attended, out of fear, not real love.

And John is not through. It gets harder from there. He goes on to say, "Since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. . . . If we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us. . . ." Well, most of us understand that we really should love one another. That’s a nice sentiment. I know I should do that. But, you know, being committed to the well-being of some people, the people we, well, like, isn’t so hard, but, boy, there are some people that really, really make it tough. So, we can file that little piece of well-meaning advice away with all the other things we know we should do, but don’t: quit smoking, lose weight, paint the house, in my case — clean up my office. We all have a list like that, don’t we?

But now John really, really goes to meddling. "Those who say, ‘I love God,’" he says, "and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars [liars!]; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this:" John says, "those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also."

Oh, man! We expect a lot of "love talk" at church; I mean, it sort of goes with the stained glass, you know? But this is a bit rude, isn’t it? This means that the stakes are too high to just consign loving people we don’t like to our "to do someday" list. I mean, it’s a little embarrassing for you to see how cluttered my office is, but to be called a liar when I say I love God, that’s serious.

John has really turned up the heat. Now when the pollster asks "Do you love God?" saying "yes" isn’t the easy, safe answer anymore. Now that answer has consequences. It asks something of you. It imposes expectations. Now there is a proof, a way of telling.

If we say we love God, our motivation must be that we are responding to God’s love for us, and part of that response is to recognize that God loves all of us, so we are called to love all of us too. And if we don’t, we can’t claim to love God, as least not fully.

So think of people (who might be from the news, or anywhere in your life, or who might be in this room, who might be in this pulpit) people whom you have the hardest time loving, maybe because of their religious views, or political views, or because you think they are jerks, or they’ve committed some terrible act. Maybe these are people who just drive you crazy, or irritate you. Maybe you resent them because they don’t pull their weight. Who knows? But people you don’t feel good about. God loves those people, really loves them. And so we are challenged, not to feel good about them, or to agree with them, but to commit to being concerned for their well-being.

Boy, that’s hard, isn’t it? Maybe it’s not for you, but it is for me. And I want to tell you something — I’m not there yet. I’m not yet at a place where I can immediately be concerned for the well-being of people who irritate me to no end, or are lazy at my expense, or are incompetent, or hurt me, or who do terrible things. Those are the ones who are hard to love, and I’m just not there yet all the time with all of them.

But I’m working on it. Let’s face it, I’ll never be able to love as God loves, but I can get closer. I believe that through prayer and reflection, especially reflection on how God loves us, God’s love can work through us, and we can change. We can grow in love. But it’s not safe, and it’s not easy. It’s not an answer lightly to give a pollster to hedge your bets.

Odds are, you’ll never be called by the Gallup folks and asked whether you believe in God. But we take a poll every Sunday. It’s called the Nicene Creed. The first line is, "We believe in one God." I’ll leave it up to you as to how you understand that for your life. As for me, when I affirm my belief in God, I’ll understand that to mean, "I believe, God, and with your help, I plan to keep growing, to keep learning to believe more, to keep learning to really love the people you love — all people."

And I believe that improbable task is possible, even for the likes of me, because, well, Christ is risen.

Amen.