When you heard today’s text being read, you could be forgiven for wondering if you had inadvertently wandered into a wedding. Because the reading of chapter thirteen of Saint Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians has become as much a fixture of marriage ceremonies as unity candles, Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, nervous grooms, and fainting bridesmaids. No wedding would be complete without it.
So it may surprise you to learn that when Paul penned these words he wasn’t, in fact, writing about marriage, or romantic love. He was not writing specifically to brides, or to grooms, or to Valentine’s Day sweethearts, but to a church. A difficult, confused, proud, status-obsessed, self-centered, man-centered, church. Located in Corinth, Greece, about halfway between Athens and Sparta. And what he wrote to the people of that congregation, almost two thousand years ago, has resonated throughout the centuries. Because it reminds us of what is central to the Christian life, and what is not, what is important and what is unimportant, what matters and what doesn’t.
Now, I should pause and note that it is impossible to study and to preach this chapter of First Corinthians, as I am doing this morning, without being confronted by the fact that you don’t measure up to the standard which Paul describes here. Of course, that’s always a problem for preachers. But especially here, where the ideal of authentic love is placed before us. In comparison with this, we’re all hypocrites, to a greater or lesser degree. So let’s acknowledge that together, but not let it prevent us from learning what God has to teach us in this portion of his Word. Because this text is not intended to be merely a beautiful piece of poetry. We’re not intended to stand back and admire it, like a Rodin statue, or a Vermeer painting. These aren’t just words to embroider into a wall hanging. God expects us to engage with it; to allow it to challenge us, and instruct us, and change us. It isn’t just part of the script for a wedding. It’s part of the script for our lives. So let’s look at it together and, as we do, let’s each ask ourselves what God would have us to do in response to it. Will you do that with me?
Now, as background, the church at Corinth had a lot of problems. Theological divisions. Blatant sin. Class divisions. Pride. Arguments over speaking in tongues. You think the modern church has worship wars? They invented worship wars. But the root of all these various problems was really quite simple. It was a failure of love. A failure of love shows itself in a myriad of ways. And you can’t always start with the root cause; sometimes you have to begin by addressing the effects, the fruit. But eventually it always leads back to that fundamental problem, a lack of love, for God and for one another. A focus on serving self. An unwillingness to sacrifice, and to serve, and to submit, for the good of others. And so, after twelve chapters of patiently and laboriously addressing all of the more obvious issues in the Corinthians church, Paul finally writes chapter 13.
And this is really the core of 1 Corinthians. Because love is not just one Christian virtue among many; it is the essence of what it means to follow Christ. If you have that, you have everything. If you don’t, you have nothing. It’s really that simple.
So let’s see what Paul has to say about love. We need to hear it. Because although we may not have precisely the same problems as the Corinthians, or have them in the same measure, we all have the same root problem, which is sin and selfishness. So the message they needed to hear two thousand years ago, we need to hear today as well.
Paul begins by making a series of rather startling statements: [1 Corinthians 13:1-3]
“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.”
Now, in each of these statements, Paul begins with a known spiritual gift — speaking in tongues, prophecy, giving — and then he intensifies it, he heightens it to the greatest degree possible.
• Not only speaking in tongues, but speaking in angelic tongues.
• Not only prophecy; that is, declaring the wonderful deeds of God and encouraging God’s people, but having complete understanding of “all” mysteries and “all” knowledge. And by the way, this was something which even Paul did not claim for himself, because he writes a few verses later, “now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully”.
• Not only having faith, but such a faith that one could literally move a mountain from one place to another by believing that God will do it.
• Not only giving generously and sacrificially to meet the needs of others, but giving away “all I possess”, and even giving up my own body; that is, giving up my life for others.
Paul’s purpose in using such extreme examples is to state as forcefully as possible, as emphatically as possible, that nothing we do, no matter how successful, no matter how impressive, no matter how much we sacrifice, no matter how much we accomplish — none of it means anything without love.
Let’s be very clear on this point, because we’ve heard these verses so many times that we tend to just read them, silently agree with their noble sentiments, and move on. But let’s really hear what he is saying, and let it shock us, as it should. Paul is not saying that our works will lose some of their value if not done in love. He is not just saying that acting in love is the best way to live out our faith as we serve the Lord.
No, he is saying that without love, nothing we do for Christ means anything. It may benefit others. But as far as I am concerned, the one doing the serving, doing the giving, doing the sacrificing, it has no value whatsoever. I might as well have stayed home and watched television. Because it was all just wasted effort. I get no credit for that; God is not impressed. From God’s point of view, without love, I am nothing, I have done nothing, and I gain nothing. Nothing. Let me repeat that: nothing. Did you hear what I said? Nothing. Nothing eternally, and nothing in this life, either.
Now, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t like those verses very much. To me, they’re not something beautiful and inspiring, they’re an indictment. Because I’ve actually made some sacrifices in my life. I’ve suffered loss. I’ve labored for the cause of Christ. And although I’m fully aware that my own sacrifices and my own labors pale in comparison to those of many saints, around the world and throughout history, still, they were something. Or at least I thought they were. But as I read these verses, I’m forced to recognize that anything which was done for reasons other than love wasn’t, in fact, “something”. In God’s sight, it was nothing. That’s sobering. It’s sobering to think that some of what I was giving my life to could have been for nothing.
Perhaps you’re in the same boat. Perhaps as you look back on your life, you can identify times when you’ve given, or served, or labored, or sacrificed, or suffered, for Christ. Hopefully, you can. And you’re wondering now; was it really out of love, love for God and love for his people, that I did those things? Or was it for other reasons?
Perhaps you’re engaged in a ministry even now, and you’re thinking about these verses and wondering, am I doing this out of love? Am I teaching, or caring for children in the nursery, or leading a Bible study, or tithing, or giving up vacation time to go on a mission trip, out of love? Am I witnessing to my neighbor out of love? Because if not, it doesn’t mean anything, no matter how it may look. You can be working ever so hard, and sacrificing ever so much, and seeing great results, and perhaps even suffering for Christ, but without love, none of it means anything. Kind of like a punch to the gut, isn’t it?
Just to drive this point home, to twist the knife a bit, here’s a verse from earlier in this letter (1 Cor. 3:10-15)
‘10 By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as a wise builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should build with care. 11 For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. 12 If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, 13 their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work. 14 If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. 15 If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved—even though only as one escaping through the flames.”
When people are rescued from a burning house, at first they’re relieved. They’re happy to have escaped with their lives. But then they weep, because so much of what they invested their life in has been destroyed; wedding photos, children’s art projects, the dining room table that twenty years of family dinners were served on. And for some people, their entrance into heaven will be like that. Everything they gave their life to will be gone; they won’t receive any reward for it. Because it had no eternal value.
And what Paul is telling us in chapter 13 is that the key factor which determines the quality of our work, the key factor which determines whether it has value, whether it will last or will be burned up, as if it had never happened — is love. To put it another way; it doesn’t just matter what we do, it matters why. It matters very much why.
Now, at this point, we would like to find a way to let ourselves off the hook. I would like that, at least. It would be tempting to shrug this off, and to say, well of course I’m doing these things out of love. Why else would someone work, and give, and sacrifice? The fact that I’m doing these things proves that I have love. To which I reply, “Oh, really?” Because I can think of all kinds of reasons to labor, or to give, or even to suffer for Christ, other than love. For example, one could do these things to be seen, to be praised, to have the approval and applause of other people. To hear someone say, “Well done! We couldn’t have done it without you.” To be publicly recognized. To be admired. You’ve never done anything for those reasons? Here’s what Jesus said in Matt. 6:1-2, 5:
“Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. 2 “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. . . . And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.”
Jesus spoke these words, and Matthew included them in his gospel, because doing good works for the approval of other people is a very real temptation. And when we act from these motives, we get exactly what we were seeking. We get that recognition. But nothing more. Here’s a trivial example: when you put your offering in the basket on Sunday morning, do you ever hope that the next person in your row sees how much you put in? Or do you secretly hope that the person who deposits the checks notices how much you gave that morning?
I’ll give you another example. In Philippians chapter 1, Paul writes about those who were preaching Christ out of “envy and rivalry”. In other words, some were working hard to preach and to teach effectively. But not out of love. Not out of a love for God or a love for God’s people. Out of a desire to build their reputation. Out of a desire to be viewed more favorably than Paul. Let me ask you: Have you ever taught a class here on Sunday morning, or led a home Bible study? Do you wonder how you compare to the other teachers? Do you work hard at preparing the lesson, in the hope that people will talk about how great your class was, or comment on what a wonderful teacher you are?
Let me make some other suggestions as to why someone might give, or work, or sacrifice. How about duty, or a sense of obligation? Doing your part, fulfilling your responsibilities as a church member. Nothing wrong with that, but it’s not love. How about guilt? Have you ever been “guilted” into serving, or giving? Sometimes you get the double whammy: guilt AND flattery. “We’re in a real bind, and you would be so great at this!” And actually, not only pride, but any of the so-called seven deadly sins can motivate us to do good things. That’s right: gluttony, greed, sloth, lust, wrath, or envy – any of them can be a motivation for outwardly godly behavior. We human beings are really messed-up, aren’t we?
Now, some of the motives I mentioned aren’t bad in themselves. Duty, for instance. Or a desire for honor. But if that’s all there is; if the driving force accompanying that motive is not love, then what you see is all you get. You have your reward in full; God is not impressed.
OK. So that’s the bad news. That’s the first half of the sermon. And if I did nothing more this morning than encourage you to reflect on why you are doing what you are doing, so that you would examine your heart and repent of any base motives, then I would have succeeded. But happily, there’s more in this passage than a warning; there’s also useful instruction, and there’s some very good news.
First, the useful instruction. Since our true motives are often hidden, even from ourselves, how do we know if we are acting in love? How do we know if love is what is motivating our serving, and giving? The answer is that we can tell by how we treat other people.
Let’s look at verse 4 of chapter 13 [remainder of 1 Cor. 13 verses not on the overhead]: “Love is patient”. How is patience an expression of love? And what kind of patience does Paul have in mind? First, patience includes forbearance, that is, tolerating the everyday faults and flaws of our brothers and sisters in Christ, rather than complaining about them, or irritably rebuking them, or forsaking them entirely.
“We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves.” – Romans 15:1
“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” – Colossians 3:13
Forbearance is like tolerating that small stone in your shoe that pokes you a bit every time you take a step. It’s putting up with the things that we find irritating in other people. And let’s face it, some of the things you do can be pretty irritating. You tell the same stories over and over and laugh at your own jokes. You insist on showing everyone pictures of your grandchildren, or your vacation, or of your cats dressed up in silly costumes. You complain too much. You talk about your job all the time. You’re too opinionated. You’re obsessed with money, or with sports, or politics, or Polka music, or Justin Bieber. [That’s right. You know who you are, Beliebers.] Patience means just putting up with people who do those things. Not temporarily, not on the condition that they eventually change, but as long as necessary. Because you love them. And because you love them, you’re willing to overlook their faults, and foibles, and failings; their quirks and their shortcomings. Just as you hope that they will overlook yours.
Patience also includes longsuffering. This is the willingness to accept suffering over an extended period of time, rather than trying to escape it at the expense of others’ welfare. Sometimes there’s a way out of a difficult situation, but it involves hurting others. Or violating a trust. Or failing to keep a promise. And love means not taking that way out. Have you ever been through a long period of unpleasantness, which you have could have avoided or escaped by acting in a selfish way? Love means not taking that way of escape.
What is love like? Verse 4 also tells us that “Love is kind”. This is both passive and active. Kindness sometimes involves meeting another’s need in a compassionate way. Offering a word of comfort or encouragement. Helping them with a difficult task. Relieving their burden through practical actions. But sometimes kindness means not saying something; sometimes it means refraining from harsh words or actions, even when they might be justified. Sometimes love means simply holding your tongue.
That doesn’t mean you never share hard truths. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is to tell someone a truth they would rather not hear. For example, Simon Cowell always felt that he was doing American Idol contestants a favor when he crushed their dreams. Here are some examples; you decide. [I considered attempting a British accent here, but thought better of it.] So here are some Simon Cowell quotes to aspiring singers:
• “You're like a mouse trying to be an elephant."
• "Years ago I sat on two cats and that's what it sounded like."
• "If you had lived 2,000 years ago and sung like that, I think they would have stoned you."
• "You sing like a train going off the rails.”
• "Do you have a singing teacher? Get a lawyer and sue her."
• "That song was like going to a zoo or something. I mean the noises were beyond anything I have ever heard."
• There's only so many words I can drag out of my vocabulary to say how awful that was.
Are you a Simon Cowell? Love is kind, even when communicating a hard truth.
Now back to verses 4-5: Love “does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking”. Envy looks at what someone else has, whether it’s good looks, money, a good job, a happy family (or even just a family), friends, an education — envy looks at those things and says, “That’s not fair. It’s not right that they should have those things, and not me. I’m just as deserving as they are.”
And there’s some truth in that. This world isn’t fair. Ecclesiastes taught us that. The race doesn’t always go to the swift, or the battle to the strong. We’ve seen that in the Olympics these past couple of weeks, haven’t we?. Many who were expected to win are faltering, coming in eighth instead of first. In our own lives, the promotion doesn’t always go to the hardest worker, or the most productive employee. Our ancestors, whom we didn’t even choose, supplied the DNA which determined whether we would be tall or short, hairy or bald. That’s not fair. As Solomon noted, life isn’t always fair, “under the sun”; that is, on this side of the grave. But envy is not the right response. Envy is the enemy of love. Because envy, with its counterparts, boasting, and pride, is a zero-sum game. If you look good, then I look bad by comparison. If I want to look good, then I need to make you look bad. This attitude of comparison, in which someone is always up and someone is always down, is corrosive of relationships, and corrosive of love.
Let’s do a thought experiment. It’s going to be a little uncomfortable. Now don’t look at them, but think of someone in this congregation that you envy. Your initial response is probably, Alan, “I’m a Christian. I don’t envy anyone, and especially not my brothers and sisters in Christ.” And my answer to that is, it’s a sin to lie in church. OK. Close your eyes for a minute. Think of someone in this church whom you envy. For their money, their looks, their seemingly perfect family, their job, their car, their full head of hair, their youth and strength, their wife, their husband, whatever. If you’re visiting this morning, then think of someone else whom you envy. I’ll wait. Now I’ll wait a bit longer so that you can repent. OK. Do you have someone in mind? Good. Now again, don’t look at them, but open your eyes.
OK. Now, that person you were thinking of, that person whom you envy, are you more or less likely to share their burdens, to lend them a helping hand when they need it, to encourage them, or to serve them? Less, right? Why? Because you think, “They already have more than me. Why should I help them?” In fact, maybe you’d be secretly pleased if life was a little less kind to them. And so that attitude of envy and comparison leads you to withhold help when it’s needed, and perhaps even to smile a bit when life gives them bumps and bruises. That’s not love. And that’s a problem.
There’s a reason why the command not to covet was included in the Ten Commandments. Because a community that is poisoned by envy will soon cease to be a community. When envy and resentment take hold in a country, you see political attacks on those who are successful. When envy takes hold in a family, you see brothers and sisters who are bitter and estranged from one another. And when you see it in a church, you get division, and disunity, and coldness, instead of love.
There’s another reason why envy, and coveting is harmful, and this reason has to do with our vertical relationship with God. Because it extinguishes thankfulness. You cannot be envious and thankful at the same time. Because thankfulness is gratitude to God for what he has given you, while envy is resentment at what he hasn’t given you. They are diametrically opposed to one another. And so envy not only eats away at your relationship with others, it erodes your relationship with God.
So how do you avoid this? How do you combat this enemy of your soul? By looking to the future, as Paul does in the remainder of this passage. Let me read it, 1 Corinthians 13, starting with verse 8:
“Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
Now here’s why the message of First Corinthians chapter thirteen is so powerful. It was powerful to the people of Corinth, who were so obsessed with class, and wealth, and influence, and reputation. And it’s equally powerful for us. Because in order to love, to truly love one another as Christ loved us, to love sacrificially, and authentically, and joyfully, we have to keep in mind that most of the things that cause divisions among us, that make us envious or proud, that create a mentality of “us and them” — most of those things don’t matter. They won’t last. They’re temporary, like your breath on a cold winter morning. Ecclesiastes taught us that, too.
But it doesn’t feel that way, does it? No. This life feels like everything. The sixty, or seventy, or eighty years we have on this earth feel like all the years we have, and the things we have and experience here feel like all there is to have and experience. But they’re not. Compared to our real life, the life that we will live in eternity, with Christ, everything we experience here, from cradle to grave, is less than a breath. Less than the blink of an eye. And when we find ourselves standing on the other side, none of those things will matter. Your neighbor’s full head of hair, his 6-foot-3 stature, his muscles, his health? Will all be gone. Discarded in the grave. And chapter 15 of First Corinthians tells us that you will have a resurrection body that is immortal, and powerful, and more glorious than you can imagine. A body that will never get sick and never decay. A body that would make Liam Hemsworth look like a little girl. [I watched Thor this weekend] So will he, if he’s a Christian. Your brother in Christ has money, a big house, an expensive car? It’s all going to be burned up. None of it will be left. When our few short years on earth are over, it won’t matter how much you had, it will only matter what you did with what you had.
Or maybe you compare yourself to others based on education, or intelligence. My answer to that is that, in heaven, Albert Einstein would be the village idiot. Shakespeare would be like a child learning his ABC’s. Aristotle would be reading “Philosophy for Dummies”. Listen to me: in the world to come, your insight, and knowledge, and wisdom will far surpass that of the greatest minds in human history. Because “then”, as Paul says, we “will know fully”. We will all have a reasoning capacity, and insight that if we could perceive it now, would be astonishing; literally incomprehensible. And so, why envy someone who for the briefest period of time on this earth, has a marginally superior intellect? In eternity, that difference will be eliminated, and will be utterly insignificant.
I could go on and on. Fame, power, prestige, reputation – none of these will last past the grave. None of them will persist into eternity. What will last, what will matter, is how we have treated one another. Whether we have loved one another from the heart; and whether our conduct has demonstrated that love; love for one another, and love for God. Everything else is details; everything else will be swept away.
I’m going to close by removing one more impediment to love. I realize that I haven’t mined all the depths of this chapter. But on the other hand, I didn’t promise I would do that, so you can’t ask for your money back.
So here goes. One more thing to consider. Everyone sitting around you is fighting their own private battles. Sometimes, we know about those. We learn that a church member has been diagnosed with cancer, or that a friend’s wife has filed for divorce, or that someone we know has lost a job. But much of the time, perhaps most of the time, because we’re all so good at hiding our weaknesses, most of the time you don’t know what the people sitting around you are struggling with. They may seem to have it all together, but I assure you that they don’t. They may seem to have a perfect, charmed life, but in reality, that life includes sorrows, and disappointments, and pain, and struggle, and loss, and heartbreak, just like yours does. And because of those things, they need for you to respond to them in love. To speak to them in love. To serve them in love. They may look like they don’t need it; they may act like they don’t need it; they may say they don’t need it, but they do. We all do. And whether or not we do that is frankly, the only thing that God is going to be looking at when we get to heaven. Let’s make him proud. Let’s make the Holy Spirit rejoice. Let’s love one another.
