Newborn Babes
1 Wherefore laying aside all malice, and all guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and all evil speakings,
2 As newborn babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby:
3 If so be ye have tasted that the Lord is gracious.
A Highly Significant Metaphor
Superficial views of the new birth always lead to superficial views of the Christian life. If we, for example, assume that there is no such thing as the supernatural in religion, that Scripture is merely a human expression of ancient religious sentiment, or that becoming a Christian is simply a matter of tradition and family connections, to fulfill social and emotional needs – much like choosing a club or civic organization – then piety will largely consist of external rites and humanitarian works. This is the diseased root beneath the dead fruit of the mainline denominations in this country. Or, if we forget what Peter has already told us (1:23), that it is through God’s living and enduring word that he effects such a mighty renovation in us, piety will not be centered around the word of God but follow every new fad, guru, and gimmick pawned off on an ignorant Christian populace by religious hucksters and salesmen. In such circumstances, we may earnestly desire to grow but yet remain ignorant and immature. We search for the reason and focus upon our needs and problems, but holiness eludes us because we have forgotten that both the seed and the fruit are given through God’s word alone. Finally, if we think that holiness will simply fall upon us like lightning from the sky, we will likely fall into laziness and worldly distraction, and not seek the means the Lord has appointed for our growth in grace. We can then talk of the “Spirit” all we wish, but if this does not lead us back to his word, piety will be nothing but mysticism and the constant pursuit of emotional highs, resulting in frustration and weakness.
Thus, it is a significant, potentially fatal mistake to misunderstand the nature of the new birth or to underestimate the momentous transformation that the new birth brings into our lives. We are born again of an incorruptible seed, receiving a new nature and heart by the sovereign, regenerating work of the Holy Spirit. Nothing less than the omnipotence of God performs this work in us. It is his work from beginning to end, cannot be manipulated or redefined by man, and is made clearly evident by the fruits that grow from the seed. Some of these fruits Peter sets forth here, and his main point is that the new birth always produces a corresponding new life. This life has two aspects. Negatively, we are directed and empowered by the Holy Spirit to put aside, to cast off the sins, the grave-clothes of our former deadness. Positively, since we are alive in Christ, we must continue feeding upon the pure milk of God’s word so that we may grow into mature, fruitful believers (John 15:1-8). This is our Father’s will and work. As surely as a carefully tended and healthy seed will produce a vibrant plant or flower, so the new seed of life he implants in us will grow through the word into maturity in Christ (Eph. 4:15).
Peter’s use of “newborn babes” perfectly captures all aspects of new life in Christ. First, just as babies are neither conceived nor born by any will or work of their own, so the new birth – which is a comparison Peter undoubtedly remembered from our Lord’s encounter with Nicodemus (John 3:1-8) – is the work of God, neither anticipated nor accomplished by any willing or working in us (John 1:12-13). Then, the metaphor may reflect the recent conversion of these believers from Gentile paganism into God’s holy, elect, and sanctified children. And like babies, they needed to grow, as the sins Peter mentions in 2:1 make clear. But a baby’s growth requires assistance and succor; left to itself, it will die. This is the reason our Lord says we must receive the kingdom of God “like a little child,” or we shall not enter therein (Mark 10:15). This is not a likeness of innocence but of conscious dependence, a sense of weakness that leads us to cry to our Father for help. Yet, “newborn babes” is also a fitting description of the entirety of our Christian experience, for we shall never in this life attain to what we hope or ought to be. In comparison to eternity’s light, wisdom, strength, and experience, we are but spiritual infants for as long as we live upon the earth. Whether, therefore, we are recently converted or have been earnest believers all our lives, we are but babes in Christ: always needy, never self-sufficient, needing to grow. As this passage teaches us, our only solid and health-giving food is the pure milk of God’s word.
“Being born again” is not the language of spiritual enthusiasts or theological ignoramuses, as the dead churches and deader theologians often mock. True Christians are nothing else than as Peter describes: those in whom God has performed a mighty work of regeneration, renewal, and transformation. Do we, then, posses the nature of a child of God, even of a hungry, desiring infant? Those in whom God implants his seed obey his truth, love his people, put off the sins of the flesh, and earnestly desire to be fed by God’s word – like an infant crying for its mother’s milk. These fruits of true conversion are not difficult to discern – not perfection but ardent longing for God’s word, a conscious sense of need for God to take us in hand and lead us in the path of truth, a crying out to God for help and wisdom, holiness and love. How does a baby show he is alive? He seeks his mother, roots and cries for her breast; if there is no hunger, there is no healthy life. Moreover, if there is no growth in an infant, we assume something is terribly wrong. Healthy babies fed by their mother’s milk grow; if we hunger for the pure milk of God’s word, we shall also grow up into Christ. Bad teaching and sinful habits, on the other hand, stunt our growth and cloud our understanding. Given the times in which we live and the constant attacks of the flesh and Satan, we must cry for God’s word and seek it with all our hearts. It is not God’s will for us to remain immature, tossed to and fro by every wind and wave of doctrine, but for us to be of sound mind and heart, able to stand as men, holy in heart and conduct.
Laying Aside Our Grave-Clothes (v. 1)
The glory and power of the Christian gospel is that, embraced by God-given faith, it does not attempt to conceal our filth but to destroy and remove the sinful rags of the old man (Col. 3:5). This is unlike the world and every other world religion, which wear masks in order to cover the stench of death (1 Cor. 7:31) and call for no inner renewal of fallen man. Instead, they substitute a variety of external rites, prescribed works, and mystical practices, all in a vain attempt to procure the favor of the deity, leaving the worshipper as inwardly corrupt and defiled before God as he was before. This is the reason our Savior taught us that “new wine cannot be put into old wine bottles” (Matt. 9:17; Mark 2:22). Christian morality and holiness thus proceed upon a completely different principle, a divinely revealed principle that transcends all human wisdom and ability. The old grave-clothes of our sinful nature are not mended and patched but thrown away and burned. The Holy Spirit effects an inner renewal when he sets up God’s kingdom within us through belief in the gospel. The world rejects such change and snips away at its dead branches, hoping to preserve the root of rebellion against God and to avoid repentance and submission to his truth. In the face of our superstition and willful blindness, through undeserved mercy and irresistible power, our Father kills the root of sin, instills new life in us, and transforms us more and more into the image of his incarnate Son. He also fills us with the strength of his grace that strives mightily in us (Col. 1:29), that the filth of the flesh may be laid aside and holiness perfected in the fear of God (2 Cor. 7:1).
Peter’s purpose is not to give a complete inventory of the sinful rags we must burn. He selects these out of firsthand knowledge of the sins of these particular believers – and likely from his own experience. We ought never to imagine that the effects of the new birth are in this life complete, though it brings the will and strength to pursue holiness and a true hunger for righteousness (Matt. 5:6). Peter also shows us that individual sins are not isolated or disconnected from the entire inner character, as if we need lay aside only an old shirt or two. Sin deceitfully stitches a complete, perverse set of filthy grave-clothes, corrupting our hearts and lives, even as God’s renewing work in us beautifully weaves new robes of righteousness that cover us from head to toe. His “lay aside” is the same word Paul uses in Ephesians 4:22, where he tells us to “put off the old man” and “put on the new.” The new birth always results in this transformation, the strength to lay aside the filth of our old nature and be clothed with the new man, which is formed and being formed according to God’s image of knowledge, righteousness, and holiness (Col. 3:10). Peter begins with “malice,” which is the malevolent, depraved disposition at the root of our sinful nature. This nature manifests itself chiefly in the consuming self-love that enslaves every man, until renewed by the power of Jesus Christ. This self-love breeds selfishness, and in turn an evil attitude toward others, especially those who tell us the truth about ourselves, resist our delusional God-complex, and refuse to submit to our tyranny of selfishness. Divorce, wars, greed and covetousness, and the consuming pursuit of pampering vanities that pollute and destroy men’s lives all grow from this evil root.
“Guile” and “hypocrisies” are sober reminders that the life of the flesh is inspired by the father of lies (John 8:44), the spirit that “works in the children of disobedience” (Eph. 2:2). The idea of “mask” is included in each, for the former seeks fraudulent ways of gaining what our malevolent spirit craves while the latter pretends to be what we are not in order to obtain them. Life in the flesh is a hiding affair: any outward “goodness” is pretense, any love selfishness and prompted by ulterior motives, even if unknown to the sin-blinded individual. Though no man is as bad as he could be and the devious paths of the flesh are not evident in the same way or strength in all, since the root is present, the fruit will appear. “Men love darkness, rather than light, because their deeds are evil” (John 3:19). These are the filthy, tattered rags of self-deception that always leads to deceiving others. We do not wish to face who we truly are: selfish, bitter, empty, narcissistic. Thus, we don veils to deceive ourselves and others in order to obtain what we want and avoid the light of truth. This often leads to “envy,” which is the displeasure we feel toward the success and happiness of others, especially when they possess what we crave but do not have. None can stand before envy (Prov. 27:4); not making God our joy and life, we continually thirst after possessions, relationships, and experiences, anything that will fill the void always created by our blindness and idolatry. When others obtain what we want, we view them with squinty eyes of displeasure, which may show itself in aloofness, pride, or outright antagonism. Envy, also, prompts wars and disputes of various kinds, for it is energized by the covetousness of a malicious, depraved, self-seeking heart. This is the reason Peter concludes with “evil speakings,” for the mouth pours forth the filth of the heart. Whether open slander or secret gossip, the mouth is an uncovered pit that reveals the true state of our heart. It is a fountain that spews poison and bitterness (James 3:10-11): in homes and places of business, on the internet, in public forums and from political podiums. We hide our corruption, which is the true source of our troubles and judgments, present ourselves in the best possible light, and tear down others, all because we love the world and want as much as possible of its goods, fame, and approval for ourselves, whatever the cost. How low we sink without God!
Signs of Life (v. 2)
To lay aside all this filth – and Peter insists that our renewal cuts away the root of sin and all its poisonous fruits – we must have a constant diet of the pure milk of the word. Like newborn babes, we are needy, dependent upon our heavenly Father, and must be fed by him if we are to cast away the threadbare remnants of our old nature. However advanced we may think we are or may truly be by God’s grace, we have more growing in Christ to do. We need more clarity and understanding of the central truths of our redemption in Christ, of his atoning sacrifice, of his present enthronement and intercession for us at our Father’s right hand. Like sin is interconnected, true growth in grace is marked by a growing grasp of the connection between truth and piety, divine providence and our comfort and courage, our Savior’s resurrection and our faith and hope. For growth in Christ always brings a deeper experience of truth, of God’s covenanted presence with us, of consuming holiness that permeates into every formerly dark corner, exposing sin and pointing us heavenward for strength and wisdom. Does not an infant’s growth manifest itself in greater strength: ability to lift its head, speak, crawl, then walk? So feeding upon the pure milk of God’s word, because it nourishes the root of the seed of life within us, enables us to lift our hearts in prayer, speak God’s truth in love, and run the race set before us. An infant’s cries give way to verbal attachment to its mother, expressions of gratitude, and breadth of understanding. Marks of our growth in Christ will be similar: sincere words of love to our heavenly Father, honesty before his majesty, thankful hearts that offer to him sacrifices of praise for his goodness, and such a love for his truth that it increasingly controls the thoughts and desires of the heart.
In other words, just as a baby’s growth is natural and expected, provided it is properly nourished, so the transforming effects of the new birth are expected in us if God himself indwells us by his Spirit. Thus, we shall gradually grow as we feed upon sacred, eternal truth: meditating upon it, praying it, consuming it. Growth is gradual; indeed, Jesus warned of the unbelieving heart upon which the sown seed yields a rapid fruit that just as quickly dies because the root was shallow (Matt. 13:20-21). Sometimes our natural growth is rapid, but usually it is day by day, season by season. The safest and surest growth in holiness is that which is gradual, with roots spreading deeply in God’s word, which always yields enduring fruit that is able to withstand the tests and afflictions our Father wisely sends to refine and prune us. Growth is comprehensive; it is not the baby’s head or foot only that grows, else the disproportion yields a hideous deformity. The same unattractive result is seen in us if our head is filled with truths that do not transform the life, or we pursue spiritual activity without adequate understanding. The word of God matures the understanding, gives resolve to the will, makes active the life, and softens the heart. And our growth is perceptible. The sins of the flesh are evident, plainly recognizable (Gal. 5:19); growth in Jesus Christ is similarly evident: love, humility, activity, fellowship. The seed may be hidden from human sight, but the fruit of the seed is gloriously manifest in God’s true children. And there is a connection between this growth and the laying aside of the flesh, between “putting off and putting on.” One without the other is an impossible; our warfare involves both death to sin and life to righteousness, both through union with our Savior in his death and resurrection.
Thus, we must pursue the milk that makes us grow. “Milk” is sometimes used in a negative sense (1 Cor. 3:1; Heb. 5:12), but in those places it is a metaphor for immaturity. Here it means the unadulterated, pure word of God (Ps. 119:140). It is like a mother’s milk; nothing else will substitute. Man-made variations may imitate and even sustain life, but mothers and doctors have long known that nothing builds the immune system, wards off later health problems, and builds long-term health like a mother’s milk. And so, for us, is God’s word. Man’s nifty moralisms may contain a germ of truth that will barely sustain life; clever packaging may have just enough truth mixed with the distraction to avoid being outright poison. But look at the fruits in our lives and churches. Our Lord, as has been observed, has far more dwarfs than he has disciples, as may be seen by our immaturity, unbelievable, dangerous ignorance of the Bible, faith without a solid foundation, disconnect between truth and life, God’s commandments and human society, understanding and will, doctrine and practice. All these are the consequence of substituting God’s pure milk, which he has so wondrously and graciously preserved, with the word of man. For this reason Paul professes to the Ephesians that he was “innocent of their blood, because he had proclaimed to them the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:26-27). We must exercise extreme caution not only how, but what, we hear. Not all food delivered from the pulpits of the land will bring maturity. The only pure milk is God’s pure word, in its entirety, without the pollution of man’s creativity, addition, or subtraction.
And here is the truth of the matter. God’s living seed craves pure, unadulterated milk. It is his seed; he defines its nature and sets the path for its health. He never leaves it to us to determine what is best. He says: “Seek my word, only my word, all my word.” This is not said to exalt human preachers, for even the best must be tested by God’s eternal truth (Acts 17:11; 1 Thess. 5:21) and are never without their shortcomings in ministering God’s manna. Yet Peter would stir us up to seek the pure milk of God’s word. It is the only thing that will make us grow and strengthen us to fight against the sins of our fallen nature. Thus, our hearts must “break with longing for God’s word at all times” (Ps. 119:20). It is the lack of desire for God’s word that is starving the church: that instead of pursuing God’s word with the tenacity with which babies cry for their mothers’ milk, we hunger after the world, spiritual highs, convenience, profit, and the latest technology. We are often no better than the children of the world. Earnestly, fervently pray, child of God, for God to feed you. Spare no pains in seeking out preaching that proclaims and unfolds God’s words in all its breadth and depth. Let not distance, weariness, expense, or business prevent you from being in God’s living temple, where the risen Jesus of Nazareth proclaims the Father’s name and glory to us (Heb. 2:12). Lay aside all the sins, relationships, and worldly loves that choke out God’s word, diminish your taste and hunger for his heavenly manna, and distract you from applying it to your life. Abandon your own thoughts and meditate consistently upon God’s word. If we crave God’s word in this fashion, he will supply us with food. If a faithful mother responds to her crying infant by feeding it, how much more will our faithful heavenly Father feed us if we cry to him?
The Taste of Jesus’ Kindness (v. 3)
Peter provides two motivations for us to lay aside all our corruption and desire God’s pure word. The first is the “wherefore” (v. 1), which connects all he has said about our sonship with its inseparable duties of holiness and love. We are God’s children; he has restored his image in us. If we would truly bear the family likeness, we must imitate him in love and holiness. Then, the price of our ransom from sin’s slavery, the precious blood of the Son of God, strongly urges us to put off the sins for which he died. He is our Head, our elder Brother, our Lord and Savior. We sustain an inexhaustibly close relation to him of grace and life, communion, fealty, and love. If our hearts are touched at all by the depths to which he sank in order to redeem us, sin will be hideous. We will feel every word of his to be worth our lives a thousand times over. And as newborn children in whom the seed of life is planted, are not our sins a monstrous deformity, a denial of divine grace and mercy, noxious fumes that choke out the desire to receive God’s word with meekness? This “wherefore” comes to us like a thunderclap, as well as like our Father’s still, small voice, reminding us that his election, adoption, and redemption, flowing from his sovereign grace, fatherly goodness, and unquenchable love, will not be in vain, must not be received in vain by our refusal to cast off our grave-clothes and come to him in humility and gratitude to be fed by his pure word.
Verse three adds another and, if possible, a deeper incentive. “If” (ei]per, eiper) does not call into question the legitimacy of their adoption, for this would overturn his point; “since” is preferable and linguistically acceptable. These believers had tasted the kindness of the Lord (Ps. 34:8). And if we have truly tasted of God’s grace and kindness, we are drawn by him again and again to learn of him who has subdued our hearts to teachableness, to love him who has first loved us, and to walk in the holy image of him who called us from living death. And yet, as “Lord” undoubtedly refers to our Lord Jesus, as the verses following indicate, Peter’s point is even more specific. Our Savior has been so kind to us! Consider how he voluntarily took upon himself our suretyship: assumed our nature, bore all our weaknesses and infirmities, became sin for us, suffered the wrath and judgment of his Father that were rightly ours. Consider his earthly life, how “he went about doing good” (Acts 10:38): healing, weeping, teaching. Consider the intense agonies of body and soul he underwent for our sake, the sorrows of death holding him in their horrible grip, the sweat like drops of blood, his unspeakable sufferings on the cross. Consider how he bears with us each day in our sin and weakness, interceding for us, advocating and pleading for us before his Father, guaranteeing by the virtue of his incomparable sacrifice and endless life that we shall not be lost. And consider how Peter witnessed our Lord’s kindness first hand: the three years of close fellowship, the patience with his arrogance and stupidity, the upholding words of promised recovery in the upper room, the look of knowing tenderness as our Savior crossed the courtyard, being condemned while Peter was denying, our Lord’s restoration of him by the sea . All this set against the inconstancy of his love, his resistance to the Lord’s repeated warnings, his cold, unfeeling heart in the garden, his constant blustering, the baseness of his denials. He never forgot the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, how though he was infinitely rich, yet for our sakes he became miserably, bitterly poor (2 Cor. 8:9). Peter can bring forward nothing more personal, more compelling, more thoroughly motivating to sin-hating love and word-hungering sonship than the kindness of his blessed Savior. You see, a taste of him, even one, true, life-giving taste of his kindness, draws us back to him, to the fountain of his sweetness, again and again.
It is lovelessness toward our Lord Jesus that makes us unwilling to face our sins honestly, repent of them before the throne of God, lay them aside as filthy rags, and replace them with holiness. It is for lovelessness of our Savior that we have no taste for his word, no hungering for communion with him, no desire to hear his blessed voice. How may we recover our taste, like newborn babes, crying again for our Savior? No man can restore your desire: no sudden flashes of insight, impulse of emotion, or slogan of piety. But Jesus Christ can; he did Peter. His heart was humbled by such indescribable, constant, passionate kindness, such undeserved grace. Go back to his Gospels; read them again; love him again. Think upon his kindness to you in daily life, his patience and gentleness, forgiving heart and sustaining hand. Taste of him. Do not stop seeking him – and you will, in his time and by his power alone, lay aside your moth-eaten garments of corruption and be content to sit at his feet and learn of him, drinking in the pure milk of the word to the delight and strength of your soul.