Don’t Plant Your Flag Here
I love the world.
That probably sounds like a strange way to begin a blog centered around a passage of Scripture that tells me:
“Do not love the world or the things in the world.” 1 John 2:15
But I do.
I love traveling. In fact, it might be one of my favorite things to do. I love almost every part of it. I love planning a trip weeks or months before we ever leave, researching where we’re going, figuring out what we need to see, and anticipating what we might experience. I love the journey itself. I love walking streets I’ve never walked, seeing landscapes I’ve only seen in pictures, experiencing different cultures, and discovering what makes each place unique.
I’ve had the privilege of traveling to Israel twice. On my second trip, I proposed to my wife there. I’ve traveled to Mexico, explored all over Turkey last December, and made my way through 26 of our 50 states, with the goal of eventually visiting them all.
Last year, while traveling through Turkey, I decided I wanted to start purchasing a small flag from every country I visit. Nothing extravagant, just a keepsake that represents somewhere I’ve been and reminds me of what I experienced there.
So when I recently slowed down over the words of 1 John 2, they created a little tension for me.
Do not love the world.
Really? Because I kind of do.
What World Are We Talking About?
Obviously, John isn’t commanding us to despise the mountains, oceans, cities, cultures, people, or beauty God has placed around us.
Psalm 24:1 says:
“The earth is the LORD’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein.”
The same God who tells us through John not to love the world is the God who created it. Scripture begins with God looking over His creation and declaring it good.
So I started digging a little deeper.
The word translated as "world” in 1 John 2 is the Greek word kosmos. Depending on its context, the word can be used in different ways. Here, John isn’t simply talking about planet Earth. He’s describing a world system operating in rebellion against God; a way of thinking, desiring, valuing, and living that has rejected the authority of its Creator.
That’s an important distinction. God isn’t commanding me to hate His creation. He’s warning me not to fall in love with a system that has rejected its Creator.
Suddenly John’s next words make much more sense:
“If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world; the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life; is not from the Father but is from the world.”
1 John 2:15–16
John gives us three characteristics of this system: the desires of the flesh, the desires of the eyes, and the pride of life. In other words, what feels good to me? What looks good to me? What makes me look good to everyone else?
Thousands of years have passed since John wrote those words, and I’m not sure our world has changed nearly as much as we’d like to think. We’ve just found better ways to market the same desires.
The Flags We Collect
Travel isn’t the only place flags show up in my life. I also love sports.
Over the years, I’ve collected pennants from several of the college and professional teams I love and support. Some have been easy to find. Others have required far more effort than a triangular piece of felt probably deserves.
As I’m writing this, I’m eagerly awaiting Saturday’s kickoff because college football is officially back. There is something about this time of year that I absolutely love. I’ll watch, cheer, probably get way too invested and, if history is any indication, almost certainly set myself up to be disappointed yet another year.
Yet here I am, full of anticipation.
Those pennants represent something slightly different from the flags I’ve collected through traveling. One kind of flag reminds me of somewhere I’ve been, while the other tells you where my support has landed.
And that’s when this passage started getting even more personal for me.
Because there’s a difference between collecting a flag and planting one. A collected flag can remind me where I’ve been. A pennant can tell you who I cheer for. But a planted flag declares where I belong.
Maybe that’s the question John is forcing us to wrestle with:
Where have I planted my flag?
When Enjoyment Becomes Identity
I don’t believe the takeaway from this passage is that Christians shouldn’t enjoy anything. I’m going to keep traveling. I’m going to keep collecting flags. I’m going to keep watching football. And I’m probably going to keep convincing myself every August that this could finally be the year.
The issue isn’t simply whether I enjoy something in this world. The issue is what happens when something I was meant to enjoy becomes something I need to tell me who I am.
That’s when a flag gets planted.
If we’re willing to be honest, there are a lot of places where men are tempted to plant them. Our careers, bank accounts, accomplishments, political identities, possessions, reputations, influence, hobbies, families, and even our ministry can begin carrying more weight in our lives than they were ever designed to hold.
None of those things necessarily begin as evil. Many of them are gifts from God that we’re called to steward faithfully.
But a gift makes a terrible god.
The danger comes when something that should sit underneath the lordship of Jesus begins competing with Him for our identity, affection, security, or allegiance.
Maybe one of the easiest ways to discover where we’ve planted our flag is to ask ourselves some uncomfortable questions. What am I terrified of losing? What do I need people to recognize about me? What do I instinctively become defensive about? Where do I look for validation? What makes me feel significant? What, if it disappeared tomorrow, would leave me wondering who I am?
Those answers might expose a flag we didn’t realize we’d planted.
Planting Flags in Temporary Ground
Then John says something that should change how we view all of it:
“And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.” 1 John 2:17
It’s passing away.
Think about how strange it would be to carefully choose a spot, drive a stake into the ground, raise your flag, and declare, This is where I’m building my life, while knowing the ground underneath you is disappearing.
Yet we do it all the time.
We plant our flags in success even though success fades, in money even though money disappears, and in approval even though crowds eventually move on. We plant them in physical strength even though our bodies grow weaker, careers that eventually end, political movements and earthly kingdoms that rise and fall, and accomplishments that eventually become someone else’s history.
We plant our flags in things John has already told us are passing away.
And I’m beginning to think that’s part of the invitation hidden inside this warning. John isn’t merely telling us what not to love. He’s pointing us toward something better to build our lives upon.
A Kingdom That Cannot Be Shaken
The contrast throughout Scripture couldn’t be greater.
While the world is passing away, Scripture tells us:
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”
Hebrews 13:8
While the world is constantly shifting, we serve the God of whom Scripture says:
“He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.” Psalm 121:4
And while earthly kingdoms rise and fall, we are receiving:
“a kingdom that cannot be shaken.” Hebrews 12:28
That’s where I want my flag planted.
Not because I suddenly stopped enjoying everything else. Quite the opposite. I think knowing where I belong actually frees me to enjoy God’s gifts without asking them to become something they were never designed to be.
I can enjoy traveling without needing another destination to satisfy me. I can cheer for a team without allowing its success or failure to define me. I can work hard without making my career my identity, steward money without trusting it for my security, and participate in the world around me without allowing its systems to determine who I am.
I can enjoy the journey without confusing it for home.
Scripture reminds us that those who belong to Christ are strangers and exiles here. Philippians 3:20 tells us that “our citizenship is in heaven.” We are living here, serving here, loving people here, and stewarding what God has placed in our hands here, but this was never meant to be the place where we planted our ultimate allegiance.
Don’t Plant Your Flag Here
Hopefully, I’ll live long enough to add quite a few more flags to my collection. I’d love to eventually have keepsakes representing countries all over the world and finish visiting all 50 states. I’m sure I’ll continue adding a pennant or two from teams I enjoy along the way.
Those flags will represent some incredible memories: places I’ve visited, people I’ve met, teams I’ve supported, and experiences God graciously allowed me to enjoy.
But eventually every one of them will fade. The fabric will wear, the colors will dull, teams will change, cities will change, nations and kingdoms will rise and fall, and one day everything I’ve accumulated will belong to someone else.
So I’ll collect the flags. I’ll hang the pennants. I’ll enjoy the places and cheer for the teams. I’ll thank God for every bit of beauty, adventure, laughter, and enjoyment He allows me to experience along the way.
But I don’t want to plant my flag here.
I don’t want to build my identity on something God has already told me is passing away. I want my allegiance planted firmly in Jesus Christ and His Kingdom because long after every other flag has faded, His Kingdom will remain.
Maybe John’s words aren’t asking us to stop enjoying the world God created. Maybe they’re asking us to consider whether we’ve fallen in love with a world that was never meant to become our home.
And perhaps the question worth sitting with today is simply this:
