The Watchmans Study

“Away from me I never knew you”! The scariest verse in the Bible, but if you look deeper as a married couple, a man and his wife, this has everything to do with a intimate relationship between Jesus and You, no legalistic ceremonys, just a love relationship flowing from a connected heart to its creator, God.

Depth of ‘away from me I never knew you’

> what is the depth of “away from me, I never knew you

The phrase “I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness” (Matt 7:15–27) operates on multiple levels of spiritual significance, cutting to the heart of what genuine discipleship demands.

At its most fundamental level, the statement means Jesus never recognized those addressed as His true disciples or friends, never approved of them, and had nothing in common with them[1]. This isn’t a relational rupture but rather the exposure of a relationship that never existed—Jesus is not breaking off a connection but revealing that despite their high-sounding words and religious displays, they had no genuine intimacy with Him[1].

The depth emerges in what precedes this judgment. Those rejected had claimed to follow Jesus, prophesied in His name, cast out demons, and performed mighty works (Matt 7:15–27). Yet external religious activity—even supernatural-seeming demonstrations—cannot substitute for authentic transformation. Verbal claims of faith don’t save, and neither does a demonstration of spiritual insight or power[1]. Only those who do the Father’s will and are known by God will enter heaven[1].

This connects to a broader biblical principle: knowing God is demonstrated through keeping His commandments, and whoever claims to know Him but doesn’t keep His commandments is a liar (1 John 2:3–6). It’s not hearers of the law who are righteous before God, but doers of the law who are justified (Rom 2:13). Apart from abiding in Christ, one can do nothing of spiritual value (John 15:1–8).

The tragedy lies in the public declaration of doom—those who walked in human praise will have their guilt and sin announced openly, and all earthly honor will prove meaningless[2]. What matters ultimately is not whether we know God intellectually, but whether God knows us—and God knows those who genuinely love Him[1].

[1] Got Questions Ministries, Got Questions? Bible Questions Answered (Bellingham, WA: Faithlife, 2014–2021). [See here, here, here, here, here.]
[2] John G. Butler, Jesus Christ: His Sermon on the Mount, Studies of the Savior (Clinton, IA: LBC Publications, 2005), 7:391.

> where does 1 John 2:3-6 fit in with following the 4th commandment?

The relationship between keeping God’s commandments as evidence of genuine relationship with Him (1 John 2:3–6) and the fourth commandment is more complex than direct application—it hinges on how the Sabbath operates in the New Covenant.

Authentic discipleship means walking as Jesus walked (1 John 2:3–6), yet Jesus fundamentally reframed Sabbath observance. He declared that “the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath,” (Mark 2:27–28) shifting focus from rigid compliance to the commandment’s humanitarian purpose. This doesn’t negate the fourth commandment but reorients it toward its deeper intention—rest and restoration—rather than legalistic boundary-keeping.

The New Testament presents a significant tension. Jesus affirmed He came not to abolish the Law but to fulfill it (Matt 5:17–19), yet Paul’s letters suggest the ceremonial and temporal aspects of Old Testament law no longer bind believers. Paul explicitly states that no one should judge Christians regarding Sabbath observance, describing such observances as “a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ.” (Col 2:16–17) This suggests the Sabbath’s ultimate meaning is found in Christ Himself, not in literal seventh-day rest.

Meanwhile, Paul permits individual conviction about which days matter, provided the motivation is honoring the Lord (Rom 14:5–6)—whether through observance or abstention. Hebrews reframes Sabbath as a spiritual rest available to God’s people (Heb 4:9–11), shifting from temporal observance to relational reality.

So keeping commandments (per 1 John 2:3–6) means honoring the principle underlying the fourth commandment—valuing rest, worship, and separation unto God—rather than necessarily observing the seventh day literally. The substance of obedience has moved from the calendar to the heart.

> I think the relationship with Christ is a condition of the heart.

You’ve identified something crucial. The heart is changed only through relationship with Jesus Christ.[1] This means that obedience to God’s law—including the fourth commandment—flows from an interior transformation, not external compliance.

When our wills are conformed to God’s will and we act in accordance with that will, we obey from the heart, loving God above all else and desiring what God desires. Obedience from the heart rests in relationship with God.[2] This reframes how we understand commandment-keeping entirely. The Sabbath, like all of God’s law, becomes meaningful not as a rule imposed from outside but as an expression of a heart already transformed by intimate connection with Christ.

Paul’s emphasis on obedience “from the heart” is significant—it flows from a divinely transformed heart.[3] This explains why Jesus could critique the Pharisees for their meticulous Sabbath observance while missing the point entirely. They kept the fourth commandment externally while their hearts remained distant from God.

The deeper issue with the Sabbath, then, isn’t whether Christians must observe the seventh day, but whether their relationship with Christ has reshaped what rest, worship, and devotion actually mean. Scripture is directed against external legalism, which judges according to visible outward acts rather than inward dispositions—particularly the heartless “hardness” of prevailing regulations concerning the sabbath.[4] A transformed heart naturally gravitates toward genuine rest in God, whether that occurs on Saturday, Sunday, or throughout the week. The commandment’s substance—honoring God through intentional separation and worship—becomes possible only when the heart itself has been renewed through Christ.

[1] W. T. Kirwan, “Biblical Anthropology,” in Baker Encyclopedia of Psychology & Counseling, ed. David G. Benner and Peter C. Hill (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1999), 134.
[2] Sarah Heaner Lancaster, Romans, ed. Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015), 119.
[3] Andrew J. Goddard, “Paul and Obedience,” in One God, One People, One Future: Essays in Honour of N. T. Wright, ed. John Anthony Dunne and Eric Lewellen (London: SPCK, 2018), 335.
[4] Walter A. Elwell and Barry J. Beitzel, “Heart,” in Baker Encyclopedia of the Bible (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1988), 1:939.

> which is why Jesus replays with their hearts are far from me

Exactly. Jesus responds to the Pharisees by quoting Isaiah: “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me” (Matt 15:8–9; Mark 7:6–7)—and this cuts to the precise problem you’ve identified. External religious performance, no matter how meticulous, cannot mask a heart disconnected from God.

Jesus warns about the heart, and in Matthew 15, the Pharisees opposed Him because their hearts were not right with God.[1] The tragedy is that they could honor God verbally, teach commandments, and maintain religious structures while remaining spiritually distant. The repudiation of God’s commands reflects hearts that are far from Him, and the religious leaders showed by their dishonoring of God that they were not His sons.[2]

This is why the condition of the heart determines everything. What comes out of people—from the heart—is what makes them unclean, not what goes into them.[1] A person can keep the fourth commandment perfectly on the calendar while their heart remains untransformed. They rest on the Sabbath but worship themselves. They abstain from work but serve their own interests.

The inverse is equally true: God promises a new heart and new spirit, removing the heart of stone and giving a heart of flesh, so that by the Spirit, God’s people will follow God’s Word.[1] When Christ transforms the heart, obedience becomes natural—not because rules demand it, but because the heart now desires what God desires. That’s the difference between law written on stone and law written on the heart.

[1] Josh Moody and Robin Weekes, Burning Hearts (Scotland, UK: Christian Focus, 2014). [See here, here, here, here.]
[2] Adam Friend, “Filial Revelation and Filial Responsibility: (Dis)Obedient Sonship and the Religious Leaders in Matthew 11–16,” Themelios (2024), 49:1:70.

> so with all this said, Jesus testifying “I never knew you” is a direct response to individuals being disconnected from their creator God. Like a married couple exchanging vows and being dedicated to one another through thick and thin, till death do us part.

You’ve grasped something profound. The marriage covenant metaphor runs throughout Scripture as the ultimate expression of what genuine relationship with God demands—and what its absence means.

God established covenant relationship with Israel, declaring “I was their husband” (Jer 31:31–32), yet they broke that covenant (Jer 31:31–32). The tragedy of infidelity mirrors the spiritual condition Jesus addresses: those who claim relationship with Him while their hearts remain distant are functionally unfaithful to the covenant bond.

Christ’s sacrificial love for the church—cleansing and sanctifying her to present her in splendor—mirrors the marriage covenant, where “the two shall become one flesh,” a mystery referring to Christ and the church (Eph 5:25–32). This isn’t mere sentiment; it’s the framework for understanding what “knowing” God truly means. Like a marriage, it requires mutual commitment, faithfulness, and transformation.

The parable of the ten virgins crystallizes this perfectly. When the unprepared virgins plead for entry, the bridegroom responds, “I do not know you” (Matt 25:1–13)—the identical language Jesus uses in Matthew 7:23. They showed up externally but lacked the internal readiness, the oil of genuine devotion. They never entered into authentic relationship with the bridegroom.

God remembers Israel’s early “devotion of your youth, your love as a bride,” how they followed Him in the wilderness (Jer 2:2)—but that intimacy fractured when hearts turned elsewhere. Similarly, those told “I do not know you” (Matt 25:1–13) never cultivated the sustained, faithful intimacy that marriage demands. They performed the rituals but abandoned the relationship.

This reframes the fourth commandment and all obedience: they’re not rules to check off, but expressions of covenant fidelity—the ongoing “yes” a bride speaks to her husband, through thick and thin.