Welcome, everyone. Today we’re in 1 Peter 1:14–17. The title of our lesson is: Called to Holiness: Living as Obedient Children in Reverent Fear. Let’s open with prayer.
1 Peter 1:14 (KJV)
“As obedient children, not fashioning yourselves according to the former lusts in your ignorance:”
Peter has been building the believers up with gospel truths—new birth, living hope, an inheritance kept by God, faith refined through trials. Then he turns from what God has done for us to what God means to do in us.
Verse 14 is one of those clear, fatherly lines in Scripture: it tells you who you are, and then it tells you not to go back to what you used to be.
He begins, “As obedient children…” Notice how Peter starts: not with shame, but with identity. He doesn’t say, “As condemned sinners, try harder.” He says “children.” Christians are not merely people who adopted a religion; they have been brought into God’s family.
That means your life is now meant to grow out of relationship, not out of panic. A child doesn’t work to become a son; a child obeys because he is a son. Peter is giving a family name, and family names come with family ways.
But he doesn’t stop at “children.” He says, “obedient children.” That’s not a compliment about their natural temperament; it is a description of what fits their new household. God’s children are meant to respond to God’s voice.
In the Bible, obedience is not cold compliance. It is trust expressed in action. A child obeys a good father because he believes the father sees dangers the child doesn’t see. Likewise, a believer learns that God’s commands are not pointless restrictions; they are loving boundaries that keep the soul from harm.
Then Peter gives the negative warning: “not fashioning yourselves…” The word pictures being shaped, patterned, molded, conformed—like clay pressed into a form or wet cement set by a frame. Peter is saying, “Don’t let the old mold keep making the new life look old.”
Every life is being shaped by something. Your friends shape you. Your entertainment shapes you. Your grudges shape you. Your fears shape you. Your cravings shape you. Even your schedule shapes you. Peter’s command is: don’t surrender the shaping power of your life to what you used to be.
He names those patterns plainly: “according to the former lusts…” The word “former” is a small word with a lot of hope. It means those desires belonged to an old chapter. They may still knock at the door, but they are no longer the owner. “Lusts” here is broader than one category of sin.
It includes any desire that refuses God’s rule and demands satisfaction on its own terms. Sexual lust fits, but so does the lust to be admired, the lust to be comfortable at any cost, the lust to win every argument, the lust to control everything, the lust to get even, the lust to be first.
One reason Peter speaks this way is because sin is not only a collection of bad moments; it is a pattern-maker. It trains your mind and body to reach for the wrong “medicine” when life hurts. Under stress, some reach for rage. Under loneliness, some reach for impurity. Under boredom, some reach for endless scrolling.
Under insecurity, some reach for bragging, or for tearing others down. Under fear, some reach for control. These become “default settings.” Peter says: don’t keep letting those defaults shape your new life.
Then Peter adds a phrase that cuts through excuses: “in your ignorance.” He is not mocking them; he is describing life before spiritual light. There is ignorance that is simple lack of facts, and there is ignorance that is moral and spiritual darkness—living without seeing reality clearly.
Before Christ, people may know consequences, but they don’t see sin as offense against a holy God and as destruction of the soul. They call chains “normal.” They call poison “sweet.” They defend what is killing them because it feels familiar.
That is why people can say, “This is just who I am,” or “I can’t change,” or “Everybody does it,” as if that settles it. Ignorance makes sin feel reasonable. It makes the narrow path look like misery and the broad path look like freedom.
But when God saves, He doesn’t merely forgive; He turns on the lights. The gospel changes the way you see. What once looked harmless begins to look deadly. What once looked attractive begins to look cheap. What once felt impossible to leave behind begins to look like a lie grace can overcome.
So Peter is saying, “You can’t plead ignorance anymore.” You have heard the Word. You have met the Holy One. You have been given a new nature. You know what sin is and where it leads. Therefore, don’t keep dressing the old life in new clothes and calling it Christianity.
This verse is also a comfort because it tells you how to interpret temptation. When former lusts call, they often speak in the voice of familiarity: “This is what you’ve always done.” Peter answers: “That was former.”
They speak in the voice of excuse: “You didn’t know better.” Peter answers: “That was ignorance; you have light now.” They speak in the voice of identity: “This is who you are.” Peter answers: “You are a child—an obedient child.”
In simple terms, verse 14 says: live like you belong to your Father. Refuse the old mold. Don’t let your past write your present. You are not in the dark anymore, so don’t live like someone who can’t see.
And there is a practical side to Peter’s command. “Not fashioning yourselves” means you don’t treat sin like a harmless hobby. You stop feeding what you’re trying to kill. If a certain show stirs up lust, you don’t keep it “just because it’s popular.”
If certain friendships keep pulling you back into old habits, you set boundaries. If certain conversations always end in gossip, you change the subject or walk away. If you know your phone becomes a doorway to temptation, you don’t argue with wisdom—you change the pattern.
It also means replacing old patterns with new ones. Don’t just say, “I won’t do that.” Ask, “What will I do instead?” Replace corrupt speech with Scripture and gratitude. Replace lonely drifting with purposeful fellowship.
Replace bitterness with deliberate forgiveness and prayer. Replace impulsive spending with generosity and contentment. The gospel doesn’t only tell you what to leave; it gives you a new way to live.
And when you stumble—and you may—run to the Father, not from Him. Children fall while learning to walk, but they keep coming back to the Father’s arms.
1 Peter 1:15 (KJV)
“But as he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation;”
That little word “But” is a hinge. Verse 14 said, “Don’t be molded by your former lusts.” Verse 15 says, “Here is what should shape you instead.” Christianity is not only subtraction; it is transformation. God does not merely call you out of sin; He calls you into His own likeness.
Peter begins, “as he which hath called you…” The Christian life starts with God’s initiative. We did not reason ourselves into spiritual life, or climb into God’s favor by willpower. God called us through the gospel.
His call is personal—He called you—and powerful—His call does not merely invite; it awakens. That means holiness is not a random hobby for extra-serious believers. It is connected to God’s call. If He called you, then your life has a new direction.
This calling also carries purpose. God doesn’t call you merely to give you a ticket to heaven and then leave you unchanged. He calls you to belong to Him, to be set apart for Him, and to reflect His character.
If you have been called by God, your life cannot remain aimless. The old motto, “It’s my life,” is replaced with, “I am the Lord’s.”
Then Peter states the pattern: God “is holy.” Holiness is first and foremost true about God. God is holy—pure, clean, set apart, perfectly righteous, without corruption. He is not half-light and half-shadow.
Everything in Him is right. He never lies. He never manipulates. He never does the right thing for the wrong reason. His love is holy love; His mercy is holy mercy; His anger is holy anger.
He is not “nice” in the shallow sense of tolerating whatever we want. He is good in the deepest sense of being morally perfect and utterly trustworthy.
Because God is holy, Peter says, “so be ye holy.” That is both staggering and hopeful. It is staggering because God’s holiness is beyond anything we can produce. It is hopeful because Peter isn’t telling us to invent holiness from scratch; he is telling children to resemble their Father.
In a family, the children learn the family ways. They learn what pleases the father and what dishonors the name. Holiness is a kind of family likeness.
Now Peter widens the scope: “in all manner of conversation.” In the KJV, “conversation” often means conduct—your manner of life. Peter is not talking only about how you speak, though speech is included.
He is talking about the whole way you live. Holiness is not limited to Sunday morning or a few religious habits. It reaches into Monday morning, Tuesday afternoon, Friday night, and every quiet moment when no one else is watching.
“All manner” is the challenging phrase. Not some manner. Not only the parts you find easy. Not only the parts that make you look respectable. Holiness is meant to spread through the whole life like clean water poured into a vessel until it reaches every corner.
Many people try to compartmentalize their faith: God can have church, but not their entertainment; God can have their public speech, but not their private thoughts; God can have a little money, but not their spending habits; God can have their “beliefs,” but not their grudges.
Peter says holiness belongs everywhere because sin spreads if it’s tolerated. It doesn’t stay in one corner. That does not mean the believer becomes instantly perfect. Peter is writing to real Christians, with real temptations, in a real world.
Holiness is a direction and a growth. A newborn child is fully a child, but not fully mature. In the same way, the believer is truly God’s, but still learning to walk. That learning includes repentance, correction, and steady growth.
The presence of struggle is not proof that you are lost; often it is proof that you are alive. Dead hearts don’t fight sin. Living hearts do. So what does “holy in all manner of conversation” look like?
It looks like integrity when it costs you. You don’t do the right thing only when it is convenient. You keep your word. You tell the truth even when lying would be easier. You refuse to cheat, even if you could get away with it. You don’t shade the facts. Holiness is clean dealing with people because God is clean.
It looks like purity in private. Holiness includes what you do with your eyes and imagination. It includes the content you welcome into your mind. It includes what you laugh at, what you linger on, and what you secretly enjoy. Many people are “holy” in public and filthy in secret. Peter’s phrase “all manner” reaches into the hidden places.
It looks like self-control in speech. You don’t use your tongue as a weapon. You don’t bless God on Sunday and cut people down on Monday. You refuse gossip that tears down. You don’t stir division. You speak truth, but you don’t use “truth” as an excuse for cruelty. Holiness makes speech cleaner, kinder, and truer.
It looks like patience under provocation. Holiness shows up when you are tired, when you are interrupted, when you are misunderstood. Anyone can look spiritual when everything goes their way. Holiness is proven when you don’t get your way and still respond with humility and restraint.
It looks like mercy and forgiveness. A holy God forgives sinners; therefore His children cannot live comfortably in unforgiveness. Holiness doesn’t mean you pretend wrong didn’t happen. It means you refuse to become bitter and vengeful. It means you hand judgment over to God and pursue peace where possible.
It looks like generosity and contentment. Many “respectable” Christians still bow to the idol of comfort. Holiness breaks the grip of greed. It teaches you to hold money loosely, to serve others, to be content, and to seek first God’s kingdom.
And it looks like worship—not just singing, but a life oriented toward pleasing God. The holy life is not merely “avoiding bad things.” It is actively loving what God loves. Holiness is positive: love for truth, love for justice, love for purity, love for God’s people, love for the lost, love for prayer, love for Scripture. Where the heart is warm toward God, the life follows.
Peter’s command is direct: God is holy, and He called you. Therefore, let your whole manner of life be shaped by His holiness. Don’t settle for a small religious corner. Give Him the whole house.
One more thing: Peter’s holiness is never meant to turn believers into proud inspectors of other people’s sins. Holiness begins with God, and it produces humility, because you know you didn’t clean yourself—you were cleaned by grace.
The more a person truly grows in holiness, the more tender he becomes toward others and the more ruthless he becomes toward his own sin. And as you pursue holiness, don’t do it as a grim project. Do it as love. The Father is holy, and the Father is good; His ways are life and peace.
1 Peter 1:16 (KJV)
“Because it is written, Be ye holy; for I am holy.”
Peter has called believers to holiness, and now he nails the command to something unshakable: Scripture. “Because it is written…” He is saying, “This is not my personality. This is not a new trend. This is God’s settled word.”
When feelings wobble and culture shifts, what is written stands. That phrase also reminds us of how Jesus fought temptation: “It is written.” The believer learns to treat Scripture like a sword, not like a decoration.
Peter quotes God’s own words from the Old Testament: “Be ye holy; for I am holy.” That matters because it shows God has not changed His mind about what His people should be. Holiness is not an optional extra for unusually devoted Christians. It is the normal calling of the redeemed.
It also matters because of when God originally spoke those words. He spoke them to a people He had already redeemed. God did not tell Israel, “Be holy so I will rescue you.” He rescued them and then said, “Now live like My people.” Redemption first, holiness after.
The same order holds in the gospel. We are justified by grace through faith in Christ, not by works. Yet God never saves a person in order to leave him untouched. Grace pardons, and grace trains.
So when Peter says God judges according to works (v.17), and when he says be holy (v.15–16), he is not quietly slipping salvation-by-works into the Bible. He is describing the fruit that follows new birth.
Works are not the root of acceptance, but they are evidence of life. A living tree bears fruit. If there is no fruit at all, something is wrong with the root.
Now consider the reason: “for I am holy.” God does not ground holiness in social respectability or personal preference. He grounds it in His own nature. Holiness is about fittingness—living in a way that matches the God you claim to know.
If God is pure, His people should not cherish filth. If God is true, His people should not make peace with deception. If God is faithful, His people should not treat promises as disposable. If God is just, His people should not love injustice. We are called to reflect Him.
This reason also keeps holiness from becoming self-centered. The goal is not, “Look how disciplined I am.” The goal is, “Look at my God.” Holiness is a form of worship. It is saying with your life, “God is worth obeying. God is worth more than my sin. God is beautiful, and His ways are good.”
At the same time, the command can expose weakness. Many believers read “Be ye holy” and feel the weight: “I can’t do that.” That realization is not the end; it’s the doorway to dependence. God does not command and then abandon. He supplies what He commands.
He gives the Spirit who convicts, strengthens, and produces fruit. He gives the Word that renews the mind. He gives the church for encouragement and accountability. He gives discipline when we drift and comfort when we repent.
And it is important to define holiness rightly. Holiness is not mere outward polish. You can look clean and be proud. You can avoid certain sins and still be cruel. God’s holiness is deeper than appearances; it is purity of heart and truth in the inner man.
So when Peter quotes, “Be ye holy,” he is not calling us to a performance; he is calling us to real change that reaches motives, desires, and loves. This verse also guards us from a popular, soft view of God.
Many people want a God who is basically a more powerful version of a permissive friend—always approving, never confronting. But the Bible reveals a holy God.
His love is not weak sentiment. Holy love rescues from sin; it does not bless sin. Holy mercy forgives and cleanses. If you belong to a holy Father, He will not be content to let you live in what destroys you.
So “Because it is written…” is both a rebuke and a comfort. It rebukes the idea that we can redefine holiness to match our tastes. And it comforts us that God’s Word is clear and steady.
We know what God wants. We know what pleases Him. And we know that the One who calls us to holiness is the One who, by His grace, makes holiness possible.
When God said this in Leviticus, He was teaching His people that they were not to blend in with the nations around them. “Holy” carries the idea of being set apart—belonging to God for His use.
In the temple, ordinary tools could not be treated as ordinary once they were dedicated; they were set apart. In the same way, a believer’s body, time, and gifts are no longer “common.”
They belong to the Lord. That doesn’t mean Christians become strange for the sake of being strange. It means our values, desires, and loyalties shift.
That “set apart” idea also helps with everyday decisions. Holiness asks, “Does this fit a person who belongs to God?” Not “Will I get caught?” Not “How far can I go and still feel okay?”
Holiness asks, “Is this worthy of the Holy One?” That question changes what you watch, what you say, what you celebrate, what you excuse, and what you chase.
And because holiness is rooted in God’s character, the pursuit of holiness is never meant to become legalism. Legalism says, “I will obey so God will owe me.” Holiness says, “I obey because God has been good to me.”
Legalism produces pride or despair. Holiness produces humility and hope, because it depends on grace. A holy life is not the life of someone who never fails; it is the life of someone who hates sin, repents quickly, and keeps returning to the Father.
So take Peter’s phrase seriously: fight with Scripture. Put God’s words where you can reach them when temptation hits. Say “It is written” out loud if you need to. Fill your mind with truth until your desires start to change. Holiness grows where God’s Word is believed, loved, and obeyed.
1 Peter 1:17 (KJV)
“And if ye call on the Father, who without respect of persons judgeth according to every man’s work, pass the time of your sojourning here in fear:”
Peter has told us to live as obedient children and to be holy because the One who called us is holy. Now he brings that holiness down into the daily rhythm of a Christian’s life: prayer. “And if ye call on the Father…”
Christians call on God. We ask, we plead, we confess, we thank, we depend. We don’t pray because we are strong; we pray because we are needy. And we call Him “Father” because Christ has opened that access.
The gospel does not merely change our destination; it changes our relationship. God is not merely the Judge we must face; He is the Father we may approach.
But Peter refuses to let “Father” turn into casualness. Some people hear that God is Father and conclude, “Then He won’t take my sin seriously.” Peter says the opposite. If you call Him Father, remember what kind of Father He is.
He is the Father “who without respect of persons judgeth…” God does not play favorites. He is not impressed by the things that impress human beings—status, charm, education, money, influence, a big personality, or a clean public image.
He cannot be bribed. He cannot be manipulated by religious talk. He sees straight through appearances. That is sobering for hypocrisy. A person may fool friends, family, and church members; he will not fool God.
Yet it is also comforting for faithful believers who feel unseen. God’s evaluation is not biased toward the loud or the famous. Quiet obedience matters to Him.
Peter adds that this Father “judgeth according to every man’s work.” Again, this is not salvation by works. Peter has already spoken of new birth, grace, and hope. But Scripture consistently teaches that God’s judgment will expose reality.
Works do not earn redemption, but they reveal what kind of faith is present. A living faith produces obedience. Not perfection, but a real change of direction. Where there is no desire to obey, no fight against sin, no fruit at all, the claim to know God is empty.
“According to every man’s work” also reminds us that judgment is personal. You will not stand before God with someone else’s résumé. You cannot hide behind your spouse’s faith, your parents’ faith, your church membership, or your ministry involvement.
God judges truthfully. He weighs the life as it actually is. And because He is impartial, He judges the famous and the unknown by the same standard.
Then Peter gives the command that ties it all together: “pass the time of your sojourning here in fear.” “Sojourning” means you are a pilgrim—someone living in a place that is not ultimately home.
Peter has already called believers “strangers” earlier in the letter. This world is real, and our responsibilities here are real, but we are passing through. The Christian cannot live as if this age is the final word.
A pilgrim travels with the destination in view. He doesn’t build his identity on temporary applause. He doesn’t sacrifice eternity for a moment of comfort. He remembers there is a home ahead.
“Pass the time” is a gentle but firm reminder that life is measured. Your days are not endless. Time is spent like money. You can waste it on what will burn, or you can invest it in what will last.
Peter is not telling believers to panic; he is telling them to be awake. Don’t drift through your short stay here as if your choices have no weight.
And we are to do this “in fear.” This fear is not the terror of a condemned criminal expecting punishment at any moment. Peter calls God “Father,” and a child’s fear is different. It is reverent awe—deep respect, seriousness, trembling at the thought of grieving a holy Father.
It is the fear that says, “God is real. God is holy. God is not to be handled lightly.” Nearness is not irreverence. In fact, the closer you truly get to God, the more you feel His weight.
This kind of fear is healthy. It protects the soul. When temptation whispers, “It’s fine—nobody will know,” the fear of the Lord answers, “My Father will know.” When pride whispers, “You deserve this,” fear remembers that God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble.
When bitterness whispers, “Hold on to it; they owe you,” fear remembers you will stand before the Judge and you must forgive as you have been forgiven. When lust whispers, “Just this once,” fear remembers that sin always costs more than it promises.
So “fear” is not meant to make you run from God. It is meant to make you run from sin. It keeps prayer from becoming empty words. It keeps worship from becoming entertainment.
It keeps the conscience tender. It makes you careful with your eyes, careful with your tongue, careful with your secret life. It doesn’t turn you into a nervous wreck; it turns you into a serious pilgrim.
Practically, passing your time here “in fear” means you don’t manage sin; you mortify it. You don’t pet it, excuse it, and keep it around. You bring it into the light. You confess quickly. You keep short accounts with God. It means you make choices with eternity in view.
Before you speak, you ask, “Will these words please my Father?” Before you click, you ask, “Does this fit someone who calls God Father?” Before you spend, you ask, “Am I serving God or comfort?” Before you hold a grudge, you ask, “How will this look when I stand before the Judge?”
It also means you fear God more than you fear people. Many believers stumble because they are more afraid of being mocked than they are of grieving God. Reverent fear reorders that. It says, “Even if obedience costs me, God is worth it.”
And notice how Peter joins prayer to accountability. Many people pray as if God were a convenient helper who never inspects the life of the one asking. Peter says, “You call Him Father—good. Now remember: your Father is also the impartial Judge.”
That doesn’t mean believers live under condemnation. The same letter will speak of Christ’s precious blood and God’s keeping power. But it does mean the Christian will not treat grace as a license.
A real child doesn’t want to hurt his father. He doesn’t say, “He’ll forgive me anyway,” and then walk straight into sin with a shrug.
Think of a good son who has his father’s name. He may fail at times, but he cares about the name. He doesn’t want to bring shame on the household. That is the kind of “fear” Peter calls for. It is love with backbone.
It is reverence that says, “My life matters because my Father is real.” And that reverence grows when you remember you are a sojourner: you won’t be here forever. Soon you will stand before Him. Live even this week in a way that you won’t regret when you see His face.
Verse 17, then, gives balance. God is Father—so draw near and pray. God is Judge—so take Him seriously. Put those together and you get healthy Christian living: assurance without looseness, joy without carelessness, intimacy without flippancy.
If you call on the Father, spend your short pilgrim life with reverent fear, because the One who saved you is holy, impartial, and worthy. Amen. Let’s end in prayer.
Closing Prayer
Father, thank You for Your Word and for calling us Your children. Help us leave behind our former ways and live holy in every part of our lives. Give us reverent fear, a tender conscience, and steady obedience as we sojourn here. Keep our hearts fixed on Christ, and let our lives honor Your name. In Jesus’ name, amen.
If you would like a lesson book for further study, we have those available. If you have an offering, please drop that in the basket. Thank you for your attention. You are blessed in Jesus’ name!
More grace,
Michael Wilkerson 2/15/2026